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Mose Jan 13
My heart is spring in January. I can feel it in my bones when it's about to rain. The smell, the unearthing of everything we buried. It's the way in grief too.

Anniversaries are the seasons we never can quite escape. Pulling us back into the tundra & frozen in time. We revisit the moments as if they never quite left us.

I swear each year the midwesterners must reckon the seasons changing yet again, but each winter all still feels the same to them....

Like it was the very first time.
ChinHooi Ng Nov 2022
The swallows return
unveiling the garment of spring
it's a season of greenery
walking in the field
a beautiful painting is in front of you
butterflies will show you the way
light wind will dance
climbing to the top of the hill
the brook will sing for you
run with you
hot sun in the blue sky
will make your body shine
in this sweet season
I'd like to walk with you
and walk into the depths
of the flowery splendor.
Ready my therapist, ready the tissues
Suicidal jargon and self harm, tenth issue
My tears, the alien plants to my fragile
sanctuary, ******* all the water and smiles,
Are changing to healthy oak trees,
Odd, in Blue Season, trees shrink to weeds,
The rain queen has become a frivolous giver,
And I remember how the cactus use to quiver
because Blue Season meant the Sun’s burning rays,
Well, the cactus isn’t **** anymore! Back to wearing his spiky clothes always.
Industrial air to countryside,
My fauna and flora haven’t died,
Actually they have multiplied,
The poachers, the self harm, hasn’t ambushed,
No, no! They have been seen about
But they’re less and success is a doubt.

Momentary depression, the lethal poison to
my sanctuary, wreckage seems to be subdued.
There’s still challenges in my sanctuary. However, mostly from death being the only way to super sad just need some chocolate, family, friends, a good book vibes, I feel proud.
Rickey Spence Mar 2022

Retreating shadows, the night has lost
Victorious day, but what is the cost?
The trees leave their leaves around
In piles here and there on the ground
The cold air stings my lungs and my face
And my numbed bones become like a brace
The black of night turns greens to yellows
The lack of light is poison the world swallows
Blue skies slowly give in to the grays
Low clouds with white flakes and dark haze
It’s daytime now, but what did we lose?
The night has left us bitterly bruised.
ryeon Feb 2022
staring out the window on hot summer dawn, as i look up in the sky, i vaguely recall becoming trapped in its twinkling stars and made me feel like i was in the midst of a mesmerizing little village at christmas or a sea of fireflies in the woods. however even the brightest star couldn't match with the splendor of the early morning light gleaming through your eyes, or the way you could see every star in your vision. in the wee hours of the night, their radiance was enough to illuminate a thousand cities.

you were the universe, and i was merely a tiny little particle that dropped to witness your brilliance, and so i reached out my hand to you only to be struck by the emptiness that had taken its place in your presence. for more days than i cared to remember, you were barred from embracing me. even yet, i'll keep reaching for yours in the desire that you'll show up along the way to meet my grip. despite the time of day or night, i only hope to genuinely love you like much more than i did the last time we met.

after all, why would anyone ever want to see you go? those moments when the summer breeze can't compete with your warmth and love. there is nothing more endearing than the bright sun rising in the morning. sometimes the flame is too hot to touch, and i have to find solace behind the tree for a while. your figure, on the other hand, will not decay, nor will you be eroded by the weather. your presence is the only one anyone would like to see, much like a bee that is longing for its flower to bloom— i'm a honey bee, and you're a delicate flower. reflecting rainbows after a little mist of summertime fog, having me within you will not bring an end to your dreams. our nights will get more luminous as well as our days as season goes by.
this is based on the kdrama entitled our beloved summer. i was so hooked by the story of it so i decided to create a short prose that is inspired from the kdrama itself. if you haven't watched it yet, better watch it now, sit back and relax!
Leocardo Reis Feb 2022
I wait
for spring;
the petals
on a fleeting breeze;
the scent of grass
made soft by the warm sun;
the hymn of life
started by the first birdsongs of the morning;
the faint hum
of beating wings
as a bee lands gently
on the pistil of a flower;
the lukewarm night
where the moon peers curiously
at the yellow-orange tinge of sunrise.
stillhuman Jan 2022
Remember that summer
when it was dry and heavy
but in the evening
the breeze would gently
sway the smoke
of your cigarette in my hand
when you were trying
to teach me how not to choke

And I remember coughing
and laughing it off with you,
how smoke had always
been around me
but my lungs were funny
'bout this direct approach

And we talked 'bout everything
from heartbreak, to lovers, to family
And I truly felt wonder
at the simplicity of those moments
and how much they meant to me

So much I look back to them now
when it's winter and I'm alone
missing your warmth, your voice
and itching for a smoke
everything matters
MuseumofSoph Dec 2021
‘Oh Christmas tree oh Christmas tree’

Your lights shine too bright
My eyes
Are sensitive
And so are my ears

Loud voices and bustling shoppers
Make me anxious
Whatever happened to whoville?

I don’t need presents or money
I’m happy with those I love around me

Sometimes I wonder if they feel the same
Or has the holiday season
Driven them insane?
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