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ashw Sep 2013
Upon this poem I entertain relief,
From an uncertain journey with lack of reprieve.
A prayer delivers the same result,
A warmth in my being, an absolving of fault.
My thoughts are freed from their hampered state,
No longer caged by triviality or the dullness of fate.
Daily routine had exiled imagination,
But with this escape my thoughts upend reputation.
The daily grind had dampened my soul,
But looking toward heaven I envision being whole.
So small a thing to provide such release,
So fleeting a moment in a life so deplete.
But it’s just enough to keep madness at bay,
These times that I write and those times that I pray.
your delicate frame was bent
in the act of beseeching contrition

like remorse was a mask to be worn
like penitence was a role to play

my opulent frame was bent
in the act of torturous punishment

like sadism was a game to be mastered
like a grudge could be beautiful art

your delicate frame was bent
in the act of  beseeching contrition

like mercy was a place we had visited together
like absolution was a time that you had marked in your calendar

my opulent frame was bent
in the act of humorous revelation

like it had taken you a year to realise
that there will be no reprieve here
this time i do not forgive
Pyrrha May 2020
If all the wrong doings and doers that have or will come to me
Were to hand over a key to their destruction before they leave
I'd melt it down to nothing so they never again feel that initial fear
I'd never allow such weakness to remain in these moments tied to pain
For from within every weakness either strength or evil is released
So as I melt away the demons fears, so too myself have I reprieved
Ylzm Sep 2019
Rest is Reprieve
   from the burdensome curse of futile toils
Rest is Restoration
   of the perfection of life freshly bloomed
Rest is Return
   from Edenic exile to its fullness of beauty
Rest is Remembrance
   of Seven, an artefact of Mind
   a Mystery and a Measure of Time
Rest is Today
   for as long as its Today
   until the Eighth Day dawns.
nishta Jul 2019
grab your bags
let go of your inhibitions
and let's leave.
leave this town
leave this city
and break free from our shackles, our chains.

we'll run by fields of gold
bask in the warmth of dusk
wade through the weeks of cold
and reach the crossroad of life.

all the way.
i've always wanted to run away from city life and just explore nature and be with nature and just live.
Tatiana Jun 2018
Life is so precious
when you're the one who's taking it.
I took the life of your friend
Again, again, again.
I'm contracted to take the hit
I know that makes no difference.
The lives you hold so very near
I'll take them from you dear.
Why can't
            my mind
find its
I know the position you're in.
I was not born into this.
A hit was placed on my family and friends
to recruit my obedience.
I pretend to be normal
until my contract is signed
and the clever, chaotic side
unleashes on its next sacrifice.
There is no way to say this
I'm a killer who warps the meaning of justice.
I'll die alone in a ditch
and laugh at my own hopelessness.
I laugh
   at my
own mind's
There's no reprieve!
Lau­gh with me!
© Tatiana
I got bored and started writing a character who works as a hitman and is losing their mind, ya know, the normal stuff. And this poem is from that character's perspective.
eleanor prince May 2018
waves orchestrate
bruised kisses

dazed moon’s
beclouded stare

teal canopy’s
torn sinew

tidal riposte
homeless debris

shattered fins’
bullied silence

callous world      
spawns grinding

rabid avarice
fuels dueling

winds stir
shifting sands

light eclipses
night’s capricious

noon darkness
steep ransom’s

earth salvaged
true Son
a lonely shore on a tempestuous night had these thoughts come to mind about the state of the world and the high price paid for mankind's redemption - (Matt 20:28 Christ gave his life as a ransom for many; Matt 27:45 darkness at noon for 3 hours as payment for humanity is made)
Sarah Markbride Feb 2018
You are at peace now that I know.
My head knows all the reasons but the grief still won't let me go.
My love for you knows no bounds even now, I look at the stars and I see you somehow.
Am i too afraid of when my heart starts to heal that your death will become all too real.
The grief when it gives me a reprieve, will it still be just as hard to breathe.
Without your love I feel nothing but this pain in my heart and soul.
Please can we just go back to the start when I still had all the pieces of my heart
we've been perched on the hot seat
from this weather there's no retreat
a week of the sun pouring scorn
no wonder we're feeling so worn
day break confirms more of its beat

reprieve not coming to the pleat
air temps truly stifling of bleat
they're so draining our seared corn
we've been perched on the hot seat

summers not being a pleasant treat
consistent the burn of defeat
far too much of it did adorn
we await a cooler fall morn
to breeze in with a notice neat
we've been perched on the hot seat
to avoid the pitfall of prospective homelessness
which near future prospect
   induces existential angst i confess.

Today (end of rope rhyme rote
   approximately deux orbitz round the sun),
i wanted ta die and bid god riddance grandly
   going gamesomely gra grave,
   de deum, and cymbal crash

to Bing mulct emotionally, physically and spiritually -
   all the grinding hardships would be gone in a flash
how tempting to seek ot a solution sans hemlock
   or other deadly potion,

   whereby toothless mouth need not gnash
boot simply swallow and drink from the goblet of
   mortal freedoms renting psych *** under
   with purposelessness mine hash

tag, which bout with suicide
   while n the edge of thirteen -
   Anorexia nervosa defeated -
   then as now experience
   10,000 banshee maniacs whip lash

lacerating, flagellating,
   and repeatedly rousing thoughts
   shin to circle back to why death be not proud
   when life on par with a mash

up of ennui, futile gobbledygook housing incubus
   analogous luft waffe bombardiers quash
the joie de vivre per je ne sais quois spritely spring
   in step happy jollity,
   and levity attempt to make light

   of psychological me's mental illness rash
whence thru the (then) lvii roam min years
   as chief garbage taster of trash
hurled my way gnome matter

   the gremlins dwelt within the Wabash
distance to inflict din er of dissonance
   targeted this mortal for'er abash
as soon as he got expelled
   from the womb, his reddened ears did bash
from sonic screaming boom causing astir the nurses

   into the maternity ward
   of me late mum sped like dash
her, and fast as a comet Prancer doth emulate
   a con ***** dancer, cuz ova this rude half
   re: that came a boot
   from genetic chromosomal dna wash.
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