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Asher Nov 24
Whispers in the breeze,
Leaves pirouette, gold and red,
Autumn sighs softly.
Emery Feine Oct 2
Raised by a pair of dragons
Dodging their huffs and puffs of smoke and fire
And if I accidentally step on their tail
I'll burn on my own fiery pyre

And I watch the others with their parents of rabbits
While I'm here, trying not to be burnt
And while I dodge these flames once more
I think about what could've been, was or weren't.
this is my 92nd poem, written on 4/19/24
silvervi Sep 13
Drastically decided to make getting up at 7 am my new routine.
Self-compassion made me agree on giving myself 7 days to reach this.
Self-compassion also stopped me from planning any further agreements so that I can focus on only one for now.
This feels not overwhelming for a change.
This feels like I am giving myself the time I deserve.
Thank you, self-compassion!
This is from today. A glimpse into how I combine self-compassion with goals.
We'll see if it works out. :)
Spicy Digits Jun 20
Sweet soul
Yesterday's gone.
There's fields ahead
Baby, stretch your legs.
This bright face
This tender heart.
Keep close the sun
Keep their words apart.
fray narte Feb 2022
π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘‘π‘Žπ‘¦π‘  β„Žπ‘Žπ‘£π‘’ 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 π‘šπ‘¦ π‘π‘Žπ‘–π‘› π‘‘π‘œ π‘ π‘œπ‘“π‘‘π‘›π‘’π‘ π‘ . π‘šπ‘Žπ‘¦π‘π‘’ π‘‘β„Žπ‘–π‘  𝑖𝑠 β„Žπ‘œπ‘€ 𝑖𝑑 π‘ β„Žπ‘œπ‘’π‘™π‘‘β€™π‘£π‘’ π‘Žπ‘™π‘€π‘Žπ‘¦π‘  𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛.
this gloomy,
sunshine.
these cloudy,
rays.
the softness in,
these Fall days.
L Oct 2022
O
𝔗π”₯𝔒 π”π”žπ”ͺπ”Ÿ π”Ÿπ”’π” π”¬π”ͺ𝔒 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”šπ”¬π”©π”£Β Β 
𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔒,
𝔗π”₯𝔒 𝔰𝔬𝔣𝔱𝔫𝔒𝔰𝔰 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔑𝔒 π”₯𝔦π”ͺ.
Sara Brummer Jun 2021
It begins with light
slanting through the seasons
and an azur sky
filled with emptiness,
a crane floating softly
among the clouds,
drifting shadows on the earth.

There are days I live,
frantic with life,
others where I float
inside a bubble,
breath moving quietly.
I hear the music of
the ancient pines,
filled with poems.

Something touches me
from that other place,
thoughts I don’t think
to say, reaching through
the high, still air –
silence washes away
the past as I breathe
quiet mystery into myself
« with a mind that’s forgotten
mind.Β Β»
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