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Harry Roberts Jul 2017
The rain gently falls like mist,
Grey sky mysterious and still.
The fresh air scented with rain
Provides comfort and a sense of relief.

The clouds sit quietly,
While the wind blows lazily,
And the world seems happy at rest-
If not contented for the time being.

The world will wake again,
Under light of a new day,
Nourished and replenished
By the waters of gentle rain.
Written while waiting for the train in the misty rain
Ma Cherie Jul 2017
cool rain and quiet calm
overcome my mind
peaceful and serene at last
something hard to find

amidst the choas an confusion
life it surely gives
back to me in many ways
in every day I live

I just have to remember to count
my many blessings
an have gratitude
regardless of my circumstances.

Ma Cherie © 2017
Idk mindfulness
Scarlet Rose Jun 2017
Sometimes there's solace in writing words,
Watching them swoop in gentle curves,

Losing myself in a world of my own--
A peaceful place where I dwell alone.

Among the letters I have myself created,
I find escape from the world I've hated,

And can emerge happily, after some time,
Ready to take on life with this smile of mine.
Sometimes writing is the only thing that can help
Sombro May 2017
It's at times like these,
that I remember the sound of a piano,
skin crumpled within an armchair,
arms wrapped like a present,
and two burning river stones here to hear stories,
It's at these dark times I remember that...

when all was calm,
and time did not stand still, but sat with me, deflated in the silence,
Looking into the fire, we shared deeply,
hoping homely things
would come to us,

so still, so slow, as if we were never born to move,
but sit and watch without thinking,
I remember those nights when all else broke down,
and sat quietly with me watching twigs crackle,
Describing a night solemn
and thick with temptation to sleep, but
somehow never managing it...

but to tiptoe through the thoughts we already had...

I remember that time
When the moon peered in,
anxious to share,
unable to dazzle us,
accepting second place beside the fire
and singing, if silver light could sing,
and I swear I heard it, constantly serene
Hum an eerie silver tune...

hmmmmmmmmm, lightly, haaaaaaaaa...

Even dust does not venture through this space,
gathering around the dull armchair
in every seam listening quietly,
listening peacefully,
As thoughts lap the shores of unconsciousness,
and slowly descend into a dark sleep,
Where even the moonlight cannot reach me
and no troubles can disturb me...

yes, I remember
I quite like this one, a calm thoughtful mood took over me. I like to think when I have nothing to rush me. It's at times like these I wish for nights like those the most
Kathryn Maurine Apr 2017
It’s rather difficult to comprehend what’s going on in situations of mass chaos
There’s a man laying in a pool of his own blood, next to a young child with his arms detached, a box of knives, a pile of rags, an overturned safe.
How can one possibly make sense of it all with the constant buzzing of the fan…
Slaughter
Blood
Chaos
Calm
That’s how it happens
Lives so precious taken in an instant, from the conception of the ****** carried through to this serene silence of the scene at hand
Calm
That’s where we are now,
the tranquil peace of the absence of life, no struggling, no pain
just vacant stares and the crimson red of the blood pooling around their bodies
There’s something beautiful about the silence  
something that draws you in, yet the eerie nature of it brings you a sense of dread
A sense of dread that I created
…drip
          …drip
                   …drip
I think to myself, it must be raining outside, but I know that can’t be true…
I look down to see my palms are raining blood
M Harris Feb 2017
Spectral & Whites,
She shoots liquid kryptonite,
Forming civil twilights,
Lighting up satellites,

Effusive she moves in crowds,
Vetting the loud,
Entombing in her vortex clouds,
Fiction stitched exclusive to her shroud,

Translucent transcendence,
Sinking in ascendance,
Obscured abundance,
Her celestial dependence,

Mutating sacraments,
Dissolving electrolytic laments,
Decaying she resents,
Her serene blood stains,
Choking reckless intents,

Torrential far cry,
Of her desecrated lullabies,
Edging serrated highs,
Triggering sulphur lies,

Profanity in her transmits,
Photonic duality she emits,

Fluttering in trance,
Her psychopathic stance,
Initiating empathetic dance,


Seductive incandescence,
Buffering her schizophrenic vehemence,
Veiling the era of repentance,
By unveiling spiritual severance,
And pseudo sacrosanct irreverence,

The future’s here,
Nuclear souvenir,

She past my prime,
When the evidence realigned,
Confiscating her downtime,
She committed my crime,


Make amends… We are designed to be outlived….

03:22AM
Blank Canvas Dec 2016
You were sleeping, hugging yourself
It was cold
I walked away

I came back
You weren't cold anymore
You were sleeping, what a beautiful sight
I walked away to get a blanket but I guess he didn't need it anymore.

And woah! It's been 8 months since my last entry. Will post more often from now on.
Douglas Scheurn Oct 2016
Around the old pillar we used to dance,
         I gaze at its worn face.
Is it odd I sit in a trance,
            picking my mind with a turn of fate?

"Take my hand and dance with me!"
your ghost whispers oon the wind.
the trees move and softly sing,
illuminated grass bows and bends.

Stars fill the violet sky like a projection,
I smile at the haunting voice,
"But you are my memories' reflection"
I chuckle and rejoice!

no clouds swim
in the waters of the sun
I'll go on a whim
I am the only one.

Carpe Diem
annie l hayes Oct 2016
I have my autumn feet ready to seek out adventure
In a season of brisk winds that chill fingertips,
Frosty-nosed nights spent huddled beside a crackling fire,
Days wrapped up inside a thick, warm blanket
Gently grasping a steaming mug of hot tea.
Where calendar weeks are filled with
The steady rapping of raindrops on windows,
apples grappled from trees to make grandmothers’ famous pie,
and friends gathering to wander down endless rows of corn.
My autumn feet are ready to explore,
They are ready to adventure.
Leo Sep 2016
when my eyes close under weary stars
i see a field flooded with dawn
my feet tickled with dew-pearls
and surrounded by delicate fawn
i see not the bitter tragedy
that strikes my open eyes
just the peaceful grazing
i could only hope to memorize
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