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s y kalindara May 17
Don't get too close if you forsake immortality -

consider this your first wave of yellow warnings.

I am still my mother's child, I remember every thing;

so with carved words like these and my bragging heartbeat,

watch me as I seal you in all my letterings,

until you find Death on his knees, calling me a ***** cheat,

no grave can keep you buried if you leave it up to me

to adorn you in forget-me-nots and singing elegies.


Copyright © 2022 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
The dramatic version of me saying "I'll immortalise you - if I loved you enough to write about you".

(P.S. you can follow me on instagram, if you'd like to @sykmusings ♡)
Allesha Eman May 6
Do you remember when tunneling ravines would flow through our stomachs before we spoke out into the open?
And how vigorously tapping our feet felt like the only way to shake the mountains, daring to bury us alive...
or how when cold shoulders felt like judgment harmonized
and yet the dissonance euphonized in our ears as we swept our heads back into the open arms of the universe,
engulfed by inescapable laughter  

Now things are different; you wear your heart on your sleeve, washing the shores of people and things that scare you with your perpetual confidence,

and I proudly observe in wonder and admiration...

Distantly tapping my feet, fighting ravines, and laughing alone.
fading
a single point
keeps on showing
a space-less sky
scratch, it’s clearing
flowering. Mind’s eye
ripe on a man-made tree
blind
to the board
play,
play on
play on without me
play, play at
fading
flower to
a single point
in the sky.
Zywa Mar 4
Please give my corpse back

to my friends, with my fingers --


for them to divide.
"Details" (2014, Ghayath Almadhoun)

Collection "Human excess"
Willow shade Feb 16
Ah, you never see how my looks freeze
and how they stick to the feelings behind the scenery...
And there are times beyond the imaginary
when you do not search, just come across:
a tiny piece of paradise -
which the value is enormous...
A new paradise I found today,
merci!
A harmless and innocent memento:
I have the power to carry it inside
and you are full of leniency...

I get cosmic vibrations at times
feeling the universe testing me
and making arrangements,
the noble angel smiles and whispers:
'never question the grace of destiny'.
We were tried and gifted with what we lacked
and we met our inner selves:
we were hungry to share,
we were for love,
we are for love,
we will be for love, dear...
You will be to relieve,
I will be to live...
To live in the deepest sides of the meaning...

How insanely I miss you...
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2021
~
Pieces of this and that

From remember when

It used to be a flowershop

She used to smell of roses

Panting church candles

Now and again

From the quiet corner of absolution

Eyes closed to the dusk of sensualité

In search of lost time

"yearning for a song of reply"

~
Closing line borrowed from Melanii's poem "lullaby (the nightingale)"
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4506035/lullaby-the-nightingale/
Jael O'Dell Dec 2021
It's important to remember
that the impervious,
and often mellow,
hum of love
is so much greater
than the pain
of the inevitable end
you will experience
whenever you choose
to care about others.

If we forget,
all is lost.
Allesha Eman Dec 2021
Waterfalls of your everlasting memories
Flood down, pooling into pre-existing floods
Of stories, you left behind
Words I could never seem to understand
Memoirs of pain and grief that lay dormant on my skin
I swim in the ocean of teary-eyed nights
That colour these passages
Trying to decipher, trying to find the beginning
But every time I dip my fingers into these cascading waves
My eyes always seem to latch on to the moonlight
That you left behind
And stars that fluoresce with remediated happiness

The waters turn to sand
And I sit in this empty space
Echoing the future to your dissipating anguish
s y kalindara Nov 2021
A string of unrequited loves
invade my mind amid restless sleep,
four AM dreams under starless skies occupied by
pretty schoolgirls with rosy cheeks.
Seven years flowed under the bridge,
yet one of the many unspoken faces stands out
uncloaked in the mist of corridors and the early stir
of shuffling feet and uniform skirts,
my breath catches in my throat as I think of her.

I think back to our interlacement inside those four solid walls,
how I had met you through gossiping whispers and scribbles on bathroom stalls,
our paths had crossed in late winters and spring,
but those summer conversations changed everything.

By now the details are coated in dust,
but I remember the shifting air around us
wrapping me in enchantment,
and I knew I hadn't known euphoria
until I'd tasted my name on your tongue,
and I've only ever been sober
but the sound of your voice could get me drunk.

You wore a shell unlike whatever held your notoriety
and I never saw it coming, like an English storm brewing,
getting caught in the middle of it all until
it became this game of counting midnights, pacing, waiting
for the day our fingerprints stamped the same staircase railing.

I'll bet my eyes that your deathless beauty is just as haunting
as it was when I looked up at your raven hair against jasmine skin
and eyes rimmed with shadows that got me thinking
how close can our skin skim before it gets too intimate?

Transposed to a time when
what made me float the most
were your glances,
brushing hands and
hugs between classes,
and all your excuses
for patching my bruises,
to wiping blue paint off the curves of your face
and suppressing the urge
to crop the space
between our flustered breaths and parting lips,
I'd still give anything to have that kiss.

These days, I recite your letters to my bedroom ceiling at every turn
and they echo back to me in harmonies, as sacred as scripture.
How do lost words in stale, stained ink still make me yearn, crash and burn
until I'm screaming to the sea before me that you slipped through my fingers?

In retrospect, I think it's fair if I called it love
and that's something I won't apologise for.
Perhaps someday, I could stand up with a hurdling heartbeat and tell you
that I loved you the way Emily loved Sue
in glistening pink, purple and blue.


Copyright © 2021 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
Apparently the major crush I had on this girl I knew back in highschool wasn't a phase. I'm bisexual, which isn't as hard to admit now, but it was back then. I was 14/15/16 & growing up in a really religious & homophobic region & all these thoughts I had, felt so shameful to me. I'll still never admit them to her even though I think she felt the same way, it still feels way too risky to say. And my sexuality is something I keep hidden when I'm back home but I feel comfortable sharing it online & in poems, so thank you for reading this if you've gotten this far. **


(P.S. you can follow me on instagram, if you'd like to @sykmusings ♡)
Dave Robertson Nov 2021
With leaves fireworking
their last defiant blaze
against grey skies and the mud,
once again I forget to remember

the muted tannoy announces silence
for customers and staff
and the surreal descends
among the tins of peas and carrots

where the absence of the normal clatter
suddenly roars, catches in my throat,
the plaintive, Sally Army bugler
scoring the sadness in these aisles,
these isles

with two minutes passed,
the cacophony of the tide
of plant based diets
and too early Stollen returns
to wash over, to forget
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