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The drops are so much deeper,
and the highs aren't high at all.
Ongoing expectant measures listed,
of these persistent calls to pressure.
To fill a frame that's drained,
when switching off is no longer an option.
Are these real problems or signs of age?

Before was easier, yesterday simpler,
but would the early days help to mould,
when you've already grown from there.
Late observations of missed play,
a rug pull calls out the fool to vacate.
As we're a little bitter in vain,
there's no sweetness today.
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Ahmad Attr Apr 19
Curse upon the day that divides us

Dear Sagittarius
You hit your mark right at my heart
Now I walk with one hand in my pocket
And the other one flailing out
Just so you could come and hold it

Dear Sagittarius
Now I walk closely with you
So you could put your arms on my shoulders
Now I keep looking at you
So just for a fraction of a second you can look into my eyes

Dear Sagittarius
I’m weak
Not even strong enough to write how weak
But my love for you Is strong
It’s like a force in itself

Dear Sagittarius
You don’t like the details
But I have written books about you
I write and I write, it’s never ending
For you are my art

Dear Sagittarius
I can’t sleep, you are being too loud
Or maybe amidst the deafening traffic of this city,
The barking dogs, and shouting men,
My ears can only seek out you voice
Laughing and jesting with your friends

Dear Sagittarius
I can’t be one of them
Your Leo, your Aries
I am a Capricorn, sun and moon
How can you love me like I love you
Give me a clue, lost, not sure what to do

Dear Sagittarius
I have tried everything
But silence between us two
Is like a chasm constantly expanding
How long before the tragic ending?

Dear Sagittarius
Talk to me, I’m right here
Call out my name, look at me
You broke your promised yet again, I fear
Maybe there is nothing for us to talk about

Dear Sagittarius
In all honesty
I’m jealous of you
And I’m jealous of your love
Because both of these things don’t belong to me

Curse upon the stars that divide us
Dear Sagittarius
Curse upon the day that divides us
Both born in the same month, Same week but divided by one day. And that rendered us to have different star signs. Such a small distance yet such a wide one at the same time.
Juhlhaus Apr 8
The highway changes when you travel it
At different times,
In different seasons,
Weathers, road conditions, or decades.
The places you pass and your final destination
Will change entirely from year to year
Or day to night.
The highway will tell you totally different things,
The signs change from year to year
And day to night.

The sky goes dark, the lights come on,
Some letters are lost, and new meaning found.
A roadside motel becomes simply a "mote,"
There is vacancy where before
There was nothing at all,
Just an abandoned fruit stand, which by twilight
Becomes a small house—
The siding might be yellow or brown—
With dark curtains and neon signs
Proffering readings, psychic insights, an open palm.

The other night, I came to the end of the highway.
I would have crashed right through the barrier
But God or my survival instinct intervened,
And my journey continued
On a different highway altogether.
Abby Apr 5
Deja vu dreams glimpse what’s to come
Veiling reality from perception
Obscuring past and future selves
What’s once hidden, again found in another
Worthiness forfeit to the gravity of expectation

Fail, or follow

Trust is built on words of wisdom
Drink it in or drown it out
Connect to the sonorous vibrations
Or feign ignorance while praying for more
The evidence is prevalent to those whose hearts are open

Belittle, or believe

Fan the flame that ruins or refines you
The choice is yours to build or burn it to the ground
To find meaning in the minutiae
A manifestation of subconscious cues
Confirmation that the path before you is the one you’re meant to be on

Falter, or forward
This is a musing I wrote for Grieve the Astronaut’s “Signs” album, and this one in particular is about the titular song. I was asked to pen my response to each song and their lyrics and express what it meant to me in my own words. This one deals with thoughts of fate or divine paths, belief in ones purpose and meaning, and the choice to accept or dismiss the signs.
Tessa Savanna Mar 12
Inkless pen,
Broken hands,
Empty mind,
But a poet's love
For poetry,
Will forever reside,
Inside the heart.
Continue writing poems
Skye Jan 21
In between the lines
My emotions, carefully masked away
Just look harder, see the hidden signs—
A sharp inhalation, elation cut short,
Of fragmented words and meaningless phrases,
Like our goodbyes;
Obscured mistruths you hide in your sleeve
Actually read it in between the lines (odd). Then do it again (even). Now read it as a whole. Idk...
rig Jan 17
by the cliffs of london
it stands, loving the sky
silently with fiery
signs of blissful promise.
the lisbon ship awaits
at berlin by the sea.
Anais Vionet Dec 2020
How well I know this place, I’m trapped in these interiors.
I refuse to step on cracks and I avoid the hateful mirrors.

I’m watching like a cat the many motions of the heavens.
I’m straining like a witch to extend my intuition.

I'm looking for hidden patterns in odd numbers that show up.
I’m sorting out the tea leaves that my mom leaves in her cup.

I’m sure I hear the whispering of the moon on predawn walks.
I think I’d hear the angels - should one decide to talk.

Oh, God, I need some answers - I've become a hopeless mess -
show me secret signs or release it to the press.

You know I wait impatiently, with several billion friends,
for my vaccine miracle - when will this virus end?!
virus, virus, virus. Less Virus, less 2020 - come on 2021!
Daniel Cuzzo Nov 2020
There are days when I see unhappy written across the sky.
It’s so tilted that letters drift apart and fall as red leaves.
The red never leaves them though, but only I can see.

Eight signs obstruct my vision.
One of them might be real.
They cannot be judged by color.
I cannot use my hands to feel.

The night feels like a doe in the woods.
Art tries not to make it stir,
but even the unknown steps on those leaves.

Words do ripen in the spring,
Oblivious to the flower buds, doubts and dreams mingle.
They argue, but not with each other.

The fight gets carried in wind.
As words ascend they try to take the shape of signs.
Only one can remember meeting, one knows their name.

The one for those who take too long to choose.
As familiar letters stain white across the sky, they wonder,
had they ever really fallen from so high?
I love the joy I feel returning to poetry after not writing for so long.  This is one of those poems.  Written with a splurge of insight from a semi-practiced hand, it captured an emotional cycle I found myself in.
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