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purpose: for in the many parts of me, I know somewhere there
could be a perfect version of me – if only I wasn’t losing pieces
of myself so purposely. living past due the experience of full sleep;
ten thousand butterflies in the net of my body, to form a fluttering
soul.

heavy lead filled tears to melt in the soil – when I choose to cry, I
think of the rain for my emotions to better flow, catching my breath
on love, by that breeze of excitement. winded from chasing after the
dreams of it, and running further away from prior defeats – some still
follow me.

love asks me, to fight my battle; a lover would tell me, “be my
champion,” my own strength would remind me to be a little more
patient – my eyes would sting me, for finding a reason to be blinded
again. lastly these unclean hands would pretend to have never
touched a piece of sin though in the many pieces of myself, pieces
of myself have been followers of skin.
            so stands the message, sighed as a lover
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2021
Oh, hear me,
the humming cloud
is raining down.
Am I about to get back
my ears?

My long missed Saqi
gone to fetch the sea.
I say come your one
signature drop is enough.
Keeps the cloud afloat and intact
above the sea high enough.
Down to a parched Earth then
pour down some raw stuff
some zero sugar marshmallow fluff.
Saqi is a metaphoric wine bearer.
Shofi Ahmed Dec 2020
I took a sip from your cup
a drop of your signature potion.
Oh, you know what?
Just one is enough.
Leave a drop for the bees.
Let the honeycomb build and melt
in this sea of sweet magic!
The rest is yours as you please.
Amanda Hawk Aug 2020
Tears are a signature
Our mouths
Can’t quite sign
For goodbye lingers
In the corner of our eyes
Stumbling down our cheeks
Hands shake for words
To create in an embrace
That will swallow us whole
And for a moment
Feel full, overflowing
Healing
For seconds are fleeting
When goodbye has a home
Upon your tongue
Ylzm Apr 2019
Stitched from pieces of Truth
Making a tapestry of a Lie
The signature handiwork
Of the Father of Lies

To which the wicked proudly cling
As vindication and justification
To beat the Truth
To submit to the Lie
Elaina Jan 2013
Wind shapes open land
Carving its own signature
Painting on canvas
TERRY REEVES Apr 2016
Just imagine that you're standing on a hill looking down
there before you is everything that you didn't own
no one wanted to see you and remembered your song
what you did, the way you conducted yourself was wrong

And yet - there is contrition born out of this condition
even tho the doubters would wish for an explanation
you can't give them one, you are what you've always been
which is a signature in different shades of green

You walked the colonnades and people began to stare
then the whispers: 'You see, isn't that him over there?'
It is no matter - everyone is changed now, mellow somehow
you have to live, try to give, not encounter a silly row

We may all be together again - the way I have returned
and then we'll see just how much we've all really learned
Adam Kobosky Jan 2015
You got yours,
I got mine.
We're alright,
half the time.
This is my original first poem ever written. Tell me what you think!

— The End —