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StoryTallinn Feb 2019
Wishing things were more linear
It all feels so peculiar
Like a compass looking for the north
I don't know where to step forth

It is all coming together
And falling apart at the same time
Lost and overwhelmed
This chaos is starting to look too familiar

If hope is the engine
Then, perseverance is the path
Introspection is the map
And resilience is the key
Taanika Shankar Feb 2019
Since her childhood, she dreamed,
That her life would be more that it seemed;

That she wouldn’t just be another somebody,
Was something she would show to everybody;

Silently, she worked, not caring for recognition,
Past the occasional breakdown, she continued on her mission;

She wanted to be different,
To leave in this world her dent;

She was determined to rise,
Who could hold her down?

Some told her she couldn’t do it,
She told herself, especially to them, I’ll prove it;

Momentary lapses that lasted for days,
And loss of heart, she did face;

But she was determined to rise,
Who can hold her down?

Days turned into months, which turned into years,
Now, words of encouragement are what she hears;

She held on to her dream like it was her life,
But truth be told, it was no comparison;

Then one day, a stranger recognised her face,
In the tower she was building for herself, she was now far from the base;

Another day came where a stranger called her name loudly,
A name that had come to be associated with what she had worked on so proudly;

She was determined to rise,
And that dream, she made her life;

She was determined to rise,
Who could have held her down?
inreticence Feb 2019
long live

the resilience

in you.
My Kings and Queens.
StoryTallinn Feb 2019
You have to start somewhere
You have to start somehow
At rock bottom
You cannot go down

Just do something
Forget the pressure to be successful
This fake exceptionalism you see on social media
Meaningless influencers and food for ego

Listen to your intuition and forget the noise
The bird that tweets the loudest is not the most productive
You just need to be the one with the strongest wings
Resilience is key
Anita Alig Jan 2019
Blood-thirsty
the hounds were clipping my heels
panting, jeering
teeth showing

breath bereft
the lion's roar ceased
dying, faltering
ghost crumbling

light flickering
neither flight nor flight
doable, practical
discretion spent

outwitted
the lion lay low
willing, hankering
death by hideous hounds

a stranger to
fiery forces
converging, composing
resounding resurrection

eardrum busting
the lion's roar roasted the hounds
easing, mending
spirit rising

horizon spanning
my breath took hold
expanding, binding
fragments of me
Never underestimate yourself
Spicy Digits Jan 2019
I've grown cold
a close call
from a stone's throw
thrown from black souls
acid seeps from necrotic holes
in my resolve
worlds unfold
as I lose control
to the arseholes
who police and patrol
break me like a criminal
without parole
they pigeonhole
and troll like Interpol
I duck and crawl,
drop and roll
then with gall
stand tall
10 feet tall and sure
face the ****** brawl
despite the toll
scream till I'm sore
an immovable flesh wall
of colour bold

full of holes

yet whole
annh Jan 2019
I’m wearing your old jacket. Remember? The one you used to fish in. The one with the tear in the silk of the right-hand pocket. You used to tease me. You used to say that this jacket kept your loose change safe from my chocolate addiction. You being left-handed; me being right.

I bury my face in the nap of the moleskin collar. My nostrils fill with your scent - stale cologne, a hint of woodsmoke, and...fish. More disconcerting than unpleasant, it’s all I can do not to choke on my memories of you. Of me and you. Together.

'Tell me, how can I be, now that you alone are gone and I am left behind?'

I feel like I’ve been abandoned in a foreign capital with nothing more than the clothes I stand up in and a wallet full of the wrong kind of currency. The day is drawing to a close. My luggage has disappeared with the exhaust from the bus which took off before I could catch my breath and explain my dilemma - that I’m not sure where I’m going or even where I’ve been. Lately.

Maybe a kindness will point me in the right direction. An open-all-hours diner on an inner-city corner, snuggled in between the high-rise office blocks. Maybe I’ll have enough cash for a meal and a trail of hot, sweet tea to lead me into tomorrow. Maybe I’ll close my eyes and remember where I’m supposed to be and what I should be doing.

And just maybe, as the rhythm of the traffic slows and the night progresses, I’ll find some peace in the ever-changing cityscape. A time-lapse production of late revellers, harried shift workers, the dispossessed and restless; until finally the earliest commuters and exercise fanatics emerge from the riverside neighbourhoods to face the new dawn.

‘Hey, lady.’ A disgruntled voice shatters my reverie. 'I ain’t got all day, y’know.' Scrambling for cash, I reach deep into your left-hand pocket and find...***...a limp fifty-dollar bill...and a battered envelope. There’s a note scrawled on the outside in your familiar hand:

'How can you be, now that I alone have gone and you are left behind? The short answer is: you will be. For you are as singular and complete today as you were before 'mine' became 'yours' and 'I' became 'we'. My darling, I’m no tourist. You know how impatient I can get - always taking the most direct route. I’m just out of sight around the next corner. You take your time and meet me when you’re ready. Sometime...later. Whenever. I’ll be waiting.'

Stunned, I mutter an apology to the waitress and step out from the warm fug of the café into a bright, fresh New York morning. The doorbell tings shut behind me and I realise with new-found clarity that I know exactly where I am. I’m home. It’s not going to be a great day but it’ll be a better one, which is a start. Besides I have things to do - chocolate to buy, a jacket to launder, and a needle to thread.
This started out as a haiku...and turned into 500 words of I’m not sure what. Probably not poetry. I’ve seen a smattering of very long pieces on HePo - about this length - and thought I’d post it anyway. Otherwise it will just gather dust. :)
Ofelia Jan 2019
Clear blue sky
Soulful eyes
No more cries
Tears like ice
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