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KNS Feb 2021
I stand and wait for the 115
Or 15 bus to arrive
It's cold, I blow an icy vapour with every breath

A sea of umbrellas
Hoodies
Raincoats
Dreary faces

Longing for freer times
since fleeting, since forgotten, since lost
Pudless stepped in without hesitation
Or avoided with passive agression

Like their lives
Like ours

The water adresses what we can (could)
not
Write this while waiting for the bus and having my coffee.
Emma Pratt Feb 2021
memories from the past keep echoing
like little drops of rain tapping on the windows in my head
pitter
       patter
               drip
                   drop
remnants from the storm only I could see
feel
     hear
           taste
the scent of death weaves its smoky hands around my neck
i scream

but my voice is only a whisper
so
   soft
        so
           soft
my screamswordsfeelingspains
are just dead leaves carried on a heavy w
                         i
                           n
                              d
dead leaves you crunch with your feet
Rain
The sound of rain from nature
Pitter Patter
Raindrops from the clouds
Rain
The sound of rain that falls from the grey clouds
The sound of rain
AE Feb 2021
Underneath fractured rainfall
a shadow remains of the person you used to be
Your thoughts fly among the doves
having escaped steel cages of clouded silence
and comes gentle rain,
washing away the unforgiving cold

As your dreams pour out of your voice
A continuation of my previous piece "The Miseries of Healing"
Grey Feb 2021
The world rains down on this lonesome desert plane
and we watch and wait and go insane.
12/7/2020
Wanted to continue this into a longer poem but I'm not sure where to take it.
Grey Feb 2021
As I watch
your soft limbs bow before me
giving me permission to climb your sturdy trunk
up to your leaves.

I peek through the branches,
the world broken up into crisscrossed windows
each one a glimpse into someone's world.

I'm reminded of my younger days,
climbing higher and higher
until the sky brushed my fingers
in a soft command.

I would be a sky pirate, searching
for something or somewhere or someone
until momma came outside with lemonade and PB&J
and all my problems were solved
with a single kiss to my forehead.

Now, though, I simply watch from above
content in spending a few moments alone,
just me and you and the sky.

Wind picks up, your delicate branches waving in the breeze
letting swaths of gold float to the ground
in curtains that coat the cracks in the pavement
and hide the imperfections with golden rain.

And in that moment, there is nowhere else I'd rather be.
2/2/2021
Inspired by golden rain trees
Max Neumann Feb 2021
under the core of time, there's the beach of dreams
bathed by the water of wishes, attachments and fear
nothing can you bring to this place, it's all there
guarded by ancient creatures, made of clay and stone

everything a being knows will be forgotten there
all abilities and skills will be unlearned for good
misunderstandings will be solved, time stops ticking
the word "why" loses its function under the core of time

pearls of rain fall on the ground to stroke people
to redeem them from the arrogance of living on earth
and a mist of gold and light belts the sleeping ones
under the core of time, space becomes infinite and clear

a kingdom, where love shall be king and law, peaceful
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