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Descovia Jan 2021
I'll be ****** if I didn't.

******. If I did.

It's understandable to make up

For missed moments
as a kid


It's all fun and giggles.

Until, somebody falls in face first in s*

Sit down. Think a minute. You never thought about
the cause and effect of your actions? The outcome could have been different. Perhaps, it was mindless pleasure, without harm intended,  You decided not to listen. What in the f-
Face of everyone you love, you were thinking?

Another day, blunt burns away.
Without much hold the bars. Please.
We smoking.
We drinking.
Tune in for another tab.
My heart starts sinking.

Tears blur my sight.
The last words I remember
confessing to you under
the moonlight.
I keep telling myself
It's going to be alright (alright)
I feel the pull of my soul
ascending to the sky
Baby. Please, don't you cry.
Must hold tight as
angels sing loving lullabies
while carrying you as you fall....



This world around you

Needs your truth!

What is your meaning tied to?

What is us? If I am without you!?
low poetry Dec 2020
i like to write under high pressure
you make me feel pleasure
sweet precious

i like to transform move to dance
old form can make new sense
or be nonsense

opened myself to feel the rhythm
doesn’t care it’s good or bad time
this moment like a shiny gem
stop playing their silly game

trying new like chef cook
paid for everything I took
reading the next big book
she like the way I look
Rollercoaster Dec 2020
I am stuck in the trappings of poetry.
I have an exam to answer at 8 am.
I read and rejoice.
But I am sure
that I'll be overwhelmed
by regret in the morning.
Although, I’m mindful of the President’s tweets
and the pundits’ chatter;
And, while I keep up with the world news that matters;
Amid the pandemic, the politics, and the police brutality;
I often settle my spirit on . . . poetry.

I take some time.
I free my mind.
S l o w l y, I sip from a glass of smooth merlot wine.  
I relax,
I kickback,
and I ride the rhythm of the rhymes.

Because after a bit,
the constant “Breaking News,”
the quarantine,
the vanishing Lysol disinfectant spray amid covid19,
the social-distancing,
the quest for a vaccine,
the protest rallies,
the unsettling maskless scenes,
and the viewing of America’s racial unrest,
just invites unwanted and needless mental stress.

So, during these anxious days of shelter in place,
I retreat to a quiet and pleasing space,
where literature calms all worries within.
I find a book. Take a sip.
And, I warmly welcome fiction like a cherished friend.
The poem "Sipping Wine Over Rhymes" is also the name of the book published on Amazon written under my pen name "Tanya DeVonne"https://www.amazon.com/Sipping-Wine-Over-Rhymes-Lessons/dp/1735176907
saarahe Nov 2020
as children we learn to write,
learn to read
things important,
things we need
but sometimes
in the thick of it all
we cry and chatter
crumble and crawl
lose sight of how do
we best through it all -
no, straightened with grace
noise crackles through
darkened halls
to we learn to write to speak our thoughts?
do we learn to read for dear knowledge sought?
It's important, we should ought
ourselves forget others eyes and
seek the beauty our hearts call for inside
we have hands and eyes and ears
time to learn, time is near
burning questions, waters clear
Oh God, let us have the patience to seek the truth, the dear.
Yes I have fallen behind in my classes, and I need to reevaluate my intentions for it all. It doesn't help to not remember why I'm doing it.
Hammad Oct 2020
I use metaphors
and you like
the awkward pause
My Dear
It would be
a lot better,
If you could see
all the signs
and let me read
all the unsaid words
between the lines...
R L Oct 2020
I turn the pages
Redolent of fantasies
Eyes eager for words
Sorry, I know it’s not my best. Still a beginner
Zoe Grace Oct 2020
To read is to breathe
To write is to drink
To listen is to eat and
To wonder is to believe
Literature is energy for the soul
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