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I trace your name across the night,
With solar ink and lunar light,
Each syllable, a burning thread
‘Tween stars that have not shifted red
That I still count each night in bed.

I know you do the same for me
Beneath some distant canopy.
Upon your lips, my name a sigh,
A whispered vow to midnight sky
That tethers us, both you and I.

Our names are written line by line,
With diamonds set to intertwine
As constellations from above,
Devoted to the keeping of
The tacit truth of starlit love.
©️2025 David Cornetta

Follow me on Instagram for more and links to my debut collection “If Saturn Should Fall”
@sanddpoetry
January 7d
You know what!? F**k it
Just this once?
Let's abandon all the worries and make awfully ridiculous decisions.
Let's be reckless because time's a *****.
(it slows down when we want it to pass quickly and it flies when we want it to never pass)
Let's wear that dress sitting amidst the folded fancy clothes and not care about the fact that no one wears that kind anymore.
Let's gobble up all the snacks that's out there and not say a word about brushing our teeth.
Let's binge watch all those episodes and sleep until noon and wake up with horrible hair and not care.
Let's go and confront the guy who's confusing you with the things that aren't supposed to confuse you.
Let's try saying 'no' to the things you've been saying 'yes' to but thinking otherwise.
Let's sneak out of our homes and meet somewhere we're not ought to be.
Let's do all of those first times and you know what!?
Let's not regret.
She had a well-oiled mind.
A kind of thinking that kept a rhythm,
even in chaos.
That kept tapping the well of knowledge until it found what it sought.
That kept time with life,
while feeding the spiritual.
With one foot in the proverbial language of the world,
and one foot in the meadow.
Quick but careful.
She took her time,
in a world where anything tedious was shunned.

-Rhia Clay
Nishu Mathur Mar 18
Blue skies call on me
Clouds float with a toss of their fluff
Ripples ripple in the lake
Birds pirouette to their own songs
The butterflies tango with the roses
The hibiscus sway
A million leaves sashay
The wind taps at my window
Seems to take my hand —
"Shall we…
Shall we dance?"
Nature Feb 16
Life with joy ,
Life with success,
Dreams in reality,
Dreams come true moments,
Fulfilled minds,
Fun-filled times,
Memories get replenished,
Memories that never forget,
But once pacemaker stops,
It's all done , nothing much again...
Human life: short but a lot

         One of main quality of human beings is that they create memories which are unforgettable in their as well as in others life...

Live life with happiness not hatred...
it used to have me bored
till the roam saw greater overpass
lacking value, lacking cash
in these times even the brokest can catch some a*s.

2018 scene , was the year of thirteen
confused then till I hit the pen
the skaters always been too “bold”
too “crazy-like” , yeah we fight
all in our right.

these same parks saved me from a sin
reminiscing the first time to one watching “cherry” with a grin -

now peaking with motivation
rather than bored

let’s cruise down in the Valley
learn something more in high hope
may be a little demure
when skating though,
the wheels turn to show -
who’s really true
who’s really pure.

and that’s from your$truly
Pitter Patter, Pitter Patter
Man’s cries, children's laughter
Leaving home, an infinite daughter
Maybe if I cared more, loved harder
If they didn't leave me, my mind altered
Then I wouldn't be here, a complete disaster
Crumbling like weak plaster

I am here after all
Waiting for that morning call
Worrying about a forever fall
Did I even have the gall?
To throw that curve-ball?
I’d never felt so small
Though I won't let it be my downfall
I'll come back again like rainfall

I am not who I was
I applied the gauze
Even though I was the cause
I never broke our laws
They sank into my, their razor-sharp claws
Straight to the bone, they gnawed
Then, suddenly, they paused
Started with their slow applause
A joke of the court, I was

So I told them no
They packed in their big show
Set off with precious cargo
All they were was fake snow.
Atop the curve of a carved stone dome,
well gilded by rays of many setting suns,
Fortune pirouettes and prances all alone
while her clockwork wheels rhythmically run.

With each new tick of her timeless clock,
she spins the drivewheel another round
and dances ’round the clockwheels’ cogs
in freedom, from our cares unbound.

The spring in her step drives clock’s time,
a rhythmic dance with outstretched hands
that point to sorrows or high cloud nine
as suits her music: She won’t come to a stand.

Would that we could pass the years
like Fortune, a lady unwound by our fears.
Inspired by this photo I took of the statue of Fortuna atop Potsdam’s City Palace: https://bsky.app/profile/jackgroundhog.bsky.social/post/3lglbyrewek2e
Bekah Halle Jan 1
Rhythms,
Unashamed sounds,
Playing to the beat of their internal drum,
No fear of questioning,
But unleashing originality as it comes.
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