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L B Sep 2016
...and there’s no one there to hear it,
does it make a sound?

My poetry performed—
before a crowd of johnny-jump-ups
Their faces toward me in unison—
they listen
Intense, motionless energy
Velvet applause of purple and
Yellow yelling!

of performing in the perfume
with a troop of lilacs
They will remember me
While I— await their return to May
through billowing miles
of drowsing sachet
breathing euphorias
between the lingerie of clouds

What happens after ecstasy?

Grieving in life’s presence?
Loss of mind to self-possession?

...and when my sense of smell gives out
I will hold on for a while
to the walker of hearing
trying not to stumble past
the song of thrush
beyond me in the blurring leaves
once so clearly—
crinkled, shiny, and infant green….

As a child I held on to nothing
for dear life
I could cup a storm in my hands!
Could run with the rhythm of a horse!
I could fly in my mind’s eye
if the ferns I used were only wings!
If I pretended hard enough
I could eat my own home-baked mud pies!

If only I could be—

more than a fledgling of eight
so earthbound, clumsy  

But while the lilacs were out of town
thunder met the flash
and gutted summer!

I ran for dear life!
from the amazing distance of its echoes
pelted by its gentle gift
Snagged by growing things—
the clinging prattle
of their momentous tendrils....  

Lovers run off the path
past water lilies
along the swollen veins to the river
toward a grave and pounding heart

The Ancient Flood was jealous....

Now when the wind softens
and rain is tossed
last, and only from the leaves
may their encore be cupped in the hands
of some passer-by
that either because of a trifling wind
or the weight of time...

a tree fell here
clubbing the river’s bank senseless
Of course it makes a sound.
I will always believe this.  Why I still write.
I'm so thankful for HP.
hollobee Jan 2016
In this dance
I don't care
If you think you lead or follow.
Like your simultaneous presences in my
Bed &
My two feet encounter both
Split between realms
My arms embrace their own weight in various currencies

It's tallied in my brain
How each piece of clothing peels, falls, or floats away
And how the floor does not discriminate
From your cream adorned with curls
And your café con leche

But I never hear the fall
Like  leaves shedding in an anti-gravity zone
Preventing finality
Just so we can slip back into our skins effortlessly
With four eyes shielded,
Blindly clutching creeds through winter

So as I purposelessly push last night's leftovers aside for tomorrow's,
I am satisfied that my shelf stays full
And my floor unstained.
Jacey Oct 2015
I'm a little bit terrified that I'm
A real life
Manic pixie dream girl.

What if I only exist
To help others
Find their place in this world?

What if I'm doomed
To float in and out
Of depressive episodes?

Never having actually
Done much of anything.
A depthless side character

In my own life.
Lillian Harris Jun 2015
We are just ghosts
Aimlessly passing the time,
Forgotten places
Left behind,
Boarded up doorways
Stained by decay,
Restlessly looming
In the deepening gray,
Disappearing beneath
The undergrowth
Lillian Harris Apr 2015
I am
A street without a name
A pictureless frame
A dull knife
A still life

I am
A question mark
A smothered spark
An unread book
A stolen look

I am
A blank page
An empty stage
A heavy sigh
A passer-by

I am
A ship with paper sails
A train on rusted rails
A flightless bird
A Dream Deferred

I am
An overcrowded mind
A word that hasn't been defined
A lighthouse that no longer stands
Two feet sinking in the sand.
Kate Lion Nov 2014
i dangle my feet over the edge of hell.
i'll never do it,
but i wonder if i will ever be able to braid my hair by myself
tie my shoes
smile like a two year-old who thinks cookies are the purpose of having teeth and a tongue

if i search in darkness, i will surely find despair
and there is a cellphone light glowing in my face
as i write this
so i should pursue this happiness
this temporary thrill i get from internet existence
Pauvel Jétha May 2014
Bobbing up and down
amidst the sloshing waves,
the bottle floats on
carrying a message inside.

Hailing from forgotten hands
Searching for unknown lands
Its fate at the mercies of the deep,
ferrying voices from across the Sleep.

Under the sun and the moon,
Through rains and storms,
tossing and turning it travels
fearing every reef and rock

lest they should stop it
while life flows on past it.
Fearing lest it be broken
and the voices perish unspoken.

Not knowing if it will ever be picked up,
not knowing by whom,
little knowing that the one it seeks
had lain down his head in death's lap.

Wasted hopes now it bears,
inane memories and cares..
Without purpose,wandering..
In lifeless seas,ever drifting.

— The End —