I only need you
Lover, drown me through deserts
Of painful mistrust

Audora 2d

you would crash over me into a
river of un-scathing emptiness

I retreat to my special place
A park by the river
A line of benches face the water
Each bench bears a name
Each a person departed
I pick my bench carefully
I sit
I gaze at the water
I wonder what the person was like
What love they left behind

Jameson Boone Jan 15

I hate looking at my reflection,
in the cool, calm river stream.
The one we loved to look at,
the one that we shared
so many warm days at.
My reflection is a peculiar thing,
a lonely thing.
The sun hangs low;
reminds me of the days past.
We spent our time here,
talking, laughing, loving.
We would set by the shore,
on summer nights,
intertwined and watching the stars.
When autumn came
we laid in the dying leaves,
listening to the water flow by,
while our love grew stronger.
Winter chills tried to cool our love.
We set on a bench,
bundled together watching the crystal water,
as our breath steamed the air.
It's spring now.
I sit by the river.
A chill in the air.
I never had to worry about being cold before.
I sit here holding a symbol,
a symbol that has no meaning.
Not anymore.
I hate looking at my reflection,
in the cool, calm river stream.
Because, it reminds me,
that you're not here with me.

Akash Mandal Jan 10

The mind—a river
Brimming with thoughts, words and sounds
Cutting through mountains.

Engeli Jan 8

Neon lights reflected
Han river flows the open bay
I poured in dewdrops

Haiku"Free style"  2018
Ryan Poplett Jan 6

An age of silent desperation
Reaching to that beyond mention
A call for words in a stream so sickly sweet
Milk flowing below my feet
Children rejoice in a world of snow
White silk slipping and swirling as I row
Through screams and shouts that echo
In the chamber of my dreams

Bryce Jan 4

Ice bleeds to water in lukewarm air
As timeless crystal lattices
Into perpetually formless jumbles

You take a pick to the lakebed
Slash shaves of ice from their atomic bondage
Grit chattering teeth against slicing cold
To brush frosted life beneath its shell

Exhale vaporous dawnlit dragon-breath
There is no sweat on your icicle skin
Help our furnace-star do its nuclear work
In time for rite of spring

The soul floats a sub-arctic berg
Incongruously bobbing ever onwards
While hypothermia licks at the fingertips
Between your edges and the warming waves

River fall quietly
The sound of the river
Leaf on water
Fall and go
Sit and wait the time come

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