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deliberation deliberate
how different to consider;
and to do.
tell and wait
show and stall.
keep time in back pockets.
fish for change
and make a
surely after words,
came reactions,
and after broken promises
came sanctions.

surely after it stopped burning
things began to grow.
stories of salt,
of salting.
an act to crystallise
and make barren,
make bare.

how similar to filling up,
and filing down,
a feeling.
I stand at the shore of an ocean
vast, uncrossable waters
between me and my salvation
I could swim, but for how long?

how long before my limbs give out
my lungs searing in my chest
metal in my throat
salt in my mouth

so I stay on the shore
(metal in my throat
salt in my mouth)
feet on the ground
leeaaun Dec 2022
i hated my body
but today i realized
that hate was never emerged
from my heart
it was the insecurity of others
they sprinkled it like salt on me
to feel superior
and what a stupid soul i was
just to fit in small size
i hated my curves
like i wasn't meant to be pretty
as the standards were to small
for my double XL size
who decides the beauty standards on parameters of body shapes sadly we all do, but from now on I'll do the justice to my body
Shofi Ahmed Jun 2022
True, the sugar tops
sweeten everyone's mouth.
Hold onto the salt though
let's not lose out.

Pinches of sea salt
    dancing smash hit
deep down the sea floor
   ace extracting ice cores,
boom, the clouds form high,
show the upside is sky!
Jubilant cumulus pop
only crystal clear vibes 
let the wind see through
that sings the rhymes.

Oops, it's not always a blue sky
wispy white clouds turn dark.
The storm soars the larks fly low
busy men down the trees
seek refugee for a mo.

Sticking my head under a roof
pondering me find a room.
Is this 'smash hit high sail
of the clouds rising from deep core,
all is gone in a blink of a storm'.

Not far in the sky
nor deep down the sea.
I see a raindrop on a shining
flower before me.
Something more to tell
very closely!
I was reading Seamus Heaney's The Death of a Naturalist poem lately. Few daws later I wrote this poem.
Annees Apr 2022
(this one is about a piece of cloth)

The said attire is not common wear
no suit and tie or gown
needing no further introductions
or additional instructions

Its layers are abstruse

It is of certain quality of tension
resembling clumsy bodies
trying to meet and greet each other  
talk about belonging to someone  

Reserved and refined
restricted they cannot rewind

Ornamental is what they are
And you
         you are judgmental 

Ready to look at the attire again?

One layer got lit by a precedent match
which led to an arson
you could not even start that
with the fire you drew up your leg

Everyone is promised to someone
who lives in another country,
and will break their heart
and turn them into a pillar of salt
for looking back to the tragedy

Forever drawn too impulsively to those
Daria is not supposed to look at
She touches them as often as possible
Only few times she's been able stop  

Those times retain a repetitive pulse,
same in its essence but,
alternating on the patters and pace

I can see you are listening to me right now,
I  should probably want that

Listening is a beautiful thing,
a blessing in disguise and
acting on the details of your acoustic research 
is a physical translation of affection

Tell me that you are not unable to translate

I at least need to feel you again
Laugh at you even though our situation is dead serious

I scrutinize the piece of cloth for any signs of damage
You see I wouldn't want it to
get ripped off anytime soon

Although I'd gladly tear off
the rest of your clothes next time I see you
Thomas EG Mar 2022
I finally accelerate and you sense it, pulling back before I can try to satisfy this thirst

The plotting smile in your dark eyes is mischievously magnetic and I lunge forward to steal one last kiss

But one more is never enough, with you

And goodbyes are so hard even when our hello is still so fresh.

How am I expected to pass your heart over to summer?

Your lips, your hands, your salt? Who am I to just let them go?

We are two bodies, becoming one, irrespective of the distance between us

If I am, then we are. If we are, then I'm okay.
Falling x
julius Sep 2021
i can't focus
i'm stuck in a room with you
and whatever i do
seems to speak to you
i can't think
i'm inside your skin
and although i try harder
i can't seem to win

i can't get out of it
can't get out of this hole
that's 6 feet deep
and taking my soul
her name is piper
and she's not a fighter
and neither am i
but i have to try for her

she's not as pretty
as funny or witty
but she's someone
that says she likes me
she's not a poet
or anything close to it
but at least she holds me
when i'm so lonely

she stays in my head
or lying in my bed
shows me things
i never thought
i wanted
to see
she calls me things
that at any other time
would make me cry
but somehow
it's nice
to be told
what i am
by her

how do i tell her
everything is wrong
this is wrong
this is so so wrong
i'm so wrong
Dave Robertson Aug 2021
At the core of my being
I reckon there’s oil
and garlic and salt
and probably chilli flakes,
lemon or lime zest and juice,
or orange at my heart

applicable herbs, like basil
thyme, oregano,
always rosemary as it grows

stock cubes
or those new jelly ones
to amuse the palate
in each experiment  

all to hold off the meal deals
we know are coming
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