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IMCQ Apr 30
When morning comes and I wipe away the tears
From your face, you are alarmed by their existence.

You hurry to the shower, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake.
Symbolic of your desire to shed yesterday's stresses.

You let the water run down your face and think,
I could let it out now.  This is my last chance to cry.

The water runs cold, back to your senses.
Times wasting, places to go, people to see.

You stand in front of your reflection judging.
You lack grace, you lack confidence, fix your posture.

Should I dress to impress, you ask.  Whatever makes you happy.
You dress for comfort, baggy jeans with a shirt and  zip-up hoodie.

Toast with peach jam.  Your favorite.  A balance of sweet and savory.
A glass of water.  Pills on the side.  You need them apparently.

Keys, wallet, phone and you're out the door.  Deep breath.
If it isn't raining, you wish it were.
Good Morning, it's a new day!
Life in a mess
Mind reflects
Bring call to order
No rest small steps
Routine reigns supreme
Breathe that little bit more
Look a little bit further
Sterner fall through the pane of pain
Prioritise, it'll be worth it
Organised chaos is lived short term
Energy hiltered keep clear use a filter
House of cards can only grow so far
and won't last just wilter
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
ms reluctance Apr 23
C – me, slumped over in bed,
       tousle-headed, still half-dreaming.
O – the yawn, long as it is wide,
       accompanied by copacetic stretches.
F – a familiar pose,  
       bent over my phone, browsing.
F – the faucet gushing,
       my toothpaste dislodged unceremoniously.
E – the stack of banana pancakes,
       doused in honey, decimated briskly.
E – the coffee maker beeps,
       the ****** to a routine morning.
NaPoWriMo Day 23
Poetry form: Acrostic
(with each letter visualized according to its shape)
Dez Apr 22
Woke before the dawn
Think back to when we first met
Get ready then we part
Nylee Apr 6
Tumbling and crumbling
I get up and go back to sleep.
Jade C Apr 5
Bushy pine
Wild ghost of the sunrise
Supervising the storm
On Sunday morning

Rosemary and lavender drum
Against the glass
The wind plays her harmonica

My coffee isn’t hot anymore
there is no moon to be seen

Dog-eared pages bark
Plead for some curious examination
They roll open and over

My bones creak like the trees
Like the walls
The kettle whistles in harmony with
the wind, thick and full
Telling the fog to “move along”

I measure my wake in
Degrees of brightness
I find the moon in my reflection
It’s image paralleled across my cheeks
My chest emits a circular glow
Soft and warm

The rain lightens and
the ghosts of trees dance
Wavering spirits
Crawl back into the shadows

I carry the moon until the sky
Folds in half tonight
And it vacates this body
I’m still working on this
Carlo C Gomez Mar 27
A couple jogging in the park
Can't seem to schedule in ***,
They pass the plight
Of an overwhelmed trashcan
With indifference.
Some have too much,
Others not enough.

A young mom
Pushing the pram,
A young snail
Pulling its shell,
A bird on a wire
Watching both intently,
The call of his stomach
Shall prevail.

Love and doubt,
Apathy and duty.
A checklist of options
Lost in the quicksands of time.
Pick one to share,
As if metering off infinity
With a yardstick.
******* the hour.
Confuse the day.
Create exotica by building
Interest in offshore drilling.

The well run dry,
What's left to strike
Rests inside the mind.
The second hand cannot remember why
She must constantly move like a shark,
And so she settles to sleep,
Forgetting who she is.

The couple in the park may run
home to make love in the shower.
The trashcan may finally
Be relieved of its anxiety.
And young mom, snail and bird
May find continued purpose.
But when asked what time it is,
The clocks with amnesia
Will only be able to say,
"I don't know."

I can no longer see past the smoke.
Life is a heartbeat
Inside a cage of fear.
What we don't know is terrifying.
What we do know is even more so.
Dez Mar 23
Done I said when I went to bed
But today is new and yesterday is so dead.
So I took another dose
And went off stubborn as a post
But know it is night and I am done writing for I am in bed.
Every night what do you go to bed saying your done with?
Just to get up and do it again the next day?
Isabella Mar 17
Same wretched thing,
Why try to fight it.
Numb and routine,
Just the way I like it.
A repeat it seems.
Get tedious; might it?
Numb and routine,
Just the way I like it.
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