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inkedsolace Sep 25
winter has receded into my bones,
sharper than the strike of rocks and stones,
yet none can penetrate the hive that is my mind,
for you see my child,
love is blind.
inkedsolace Sep 17
I could be a writer,
breathing life into words,
I could be a musician,
turning emotions into song,
I could be an artist,
coaxing being into the inanimate,
I could be a poet,
awakening the dormant within,
I could be...
or,
alternatively,
I can be.
girlinflames Sep 19
A date?
I don’t know.

Your love—
is it fake?
Maybe.

Why did you take my number?
Just to know.

And now,
what will this be?
Perhaps a story
already fading into smoke.

Let’s pretend
we never did a thing.
fish-sama Jul 27
i hate writing
in short lines—
snapping into
indigestible
chunks.
Just kidding :)
Jun Lit Mar 3
Webs catch the small flies
But big bees just pass through them.
Talk about justice . . .
Lalit Kumar Feb 27
You
Are
A spark,
A wildfire,
Burning through my soul,
Your laughter—lightning in the dark.

Love
Grows
Like waves,
Silent tides,
Crashing without sound,
A rhythm only hearts can hear.
Friends walk side-by-side
when you need them most
as woes tug at your sleeve
or tackle you from behind
they're there to halt the fall
until you're ready
ready to face the rising sun
as the curtains open on a new day
that is not overwhelming anymore
Written Tuesday 13th June on a warm summers day at 13:55 in the afternoon. I just let the words flow, no pre-planning. I often find my best works just materialise without serious thought, but when I act upon my feelings and instinct at the time of writing.

Copyright Joshua Reece Wylie 2023
I bathe in endless sips of your love
'till the watery depths of my stomach
gurgle their dissapproval,
leaving me sick.
copyright ©️ Joshua Reece Wylie 2022
There are sometimes just too many words,
to use, to pick or say,
we think we have them sorted,
and then they slip away.
We know the right ones
and plan what ones to use,
until we get all flummoxed,
leaving ourselves confused.
I used to be good with words,
but they've vanished from my lips,
if you're good with words yourself,
please give me some tips!
A simple poem, lighthearted. Writing is slow these days - it's not just themes and topics, but the words don't flow as easily. This poem portrays every writers anguish as they soul search for some new creative flair!

Copyright ©️Joshua Reece Wylie 2022
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