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Luca Scarrott Oct 25
We are like bread.
Bread has three irreversible modes:
dough, bread, and toast.
many things in life, if not
everything in life
have many different forms.
we are all in the different stages of bread
and yet
we criticise and judge ourselves
for moving and changing
and needing a new environment.
The suitable storage for dough
differs vastly to the suitable storage
for bread
and yet
we do not mock it
but facilitate it.
We could learn a thing or two
from bread.
I was thinking about the concept of toast while making croutons from stale bread today. It both baffled me and made me laugh a bit when I realized how heavily we judge ourselves for not being in the 'right' place. Whether that's not being where we want to be, where we thought we would be, or where we are. The thing we can learn from bread is that the right time will come around eventually- time just takes time. I'm not usually one for light-hearted or comical poetry but I hope this can make one person smile to themselves!
Anais Vionet Aug 12
I'm not an 'ingénue' anymore - that’s been vitiated.
I'm not innocent, pure, naive or vulnerable -
which are technically, 'ingénue' requirements
(I don’t make the rules).

That being said, if no one has an objection,
in terms of narrative trajectory, I'd like to be
considered a 'fémme fatale' until further notice.
.
.
Songs for this:
HEATED by Beyoncé
Hysterical Us by Magdalena Bay

11am 08.12
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 08.12.04: vitiate: to ruin it or render ineffective
Anais Vionet Jun 12
Across the years, 400 plus, my stories endlessly play out their parts.
I played not on painted stage, but I knew the human heart - 
I captured, with quill and scratch, the passions of laughter and tears.
I held up a mirror, in doublet and verse, to things unbound by years,
like the weight of grief, the lightness of love and the serpents of ambition.
The music of verse, the lilt and fall of words, hold a strange enchantment,
brief spells where fools, princes, witches and kings shared a selfsame planet.
Though my bones lay in hallowed ground, the stories I spun linger yet.
They've played out, in age after age, on a thousand, thousand stages.
It’s well done, if I say so myself, to live on, in millions of minds and bookshelves.
.
.
A song for this:
Just Like Romeo and Juliet by The Reflections
This is for the 'Lost Poetry from History Challenge'
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/132874/lost-poetry-from-history-challenge/
Maria Mitea Jan 2023
childhood&old age it is the same,

spiritually it is the same stage,
soulfully it is the same state,
just
one it is at the beginning, opens the dance, &
the other is at the end finishes the dance,

that is why the physical body doesn't matter, it does not,
as even the psychology returns back&becomes again the same,
a common ground,  


the same innocent thoughts, the same pure desires,
to be loved&cared for,
the same hope, joy, and playing in the grass,
it is the same

childhood&old age & we just want to be done,
done
to play adults&claim to  be the rulers of the world
John McCafferty Jul 2021
A young disciple of discipline is just,
trying to dissipate negative traits.
Hesitations of change are often in frame
but most balloons don't fly straight.
Instead there's the choice of multiple fates,
played upon through invisible games.
Who is listening, we're nowhere near finished yet, when the drifter remains in stages to claim.

Draw upon those who have taught you before, are these new lessons or echoes restored in repetition.
Persistent tricks formed from stubborn habits, hidden in-kind to the back of our brains, where a complete disregard is often retained.
Try observing yourself through the eyes of others, are you sure we're the same when shuffling states.
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Traveler Dec 2020
Is the spirit
A part of conscientiousness
or is conscientiousness
A part of the spirit?
Is will deceived
Or do we steer it?

Death can hardly
Be part of life
How can a part
Of life be dead?
If eternity continues
At our last breath
How can I
When nothing’s left?

I’m sure you know
Your words are many
Dissecting the dictionary
From end to beginning
But...
Mom let you know the anger of dad
Stay out of his way and never be bad
Questions are futile
Eat your greens
The answer is simply life is a dream.
There’s no explanation
Only description.

Make no mistake we are self deceived

Traveler Tim

Perhaps we signed into some type of contract and we’re here to help this world evolve
And you can’t die until you do your part

If my last existence was a micro
Perhaps my next existence will be a solar system
Perhaps in some future point I will be the all
Perhaps
Zadkiel Oct 2020
O' brother
    Today is the anniversary
    of the day you were born
    But Fear not
    for I have a Present
    It is a cake obviously
    Never doubt me
    never
    Either way
    cake
    For you should feed your Gluttony
    And though I ate nine-tenths of the cake
    you still ate
    O how kind I am
    How much more Retribution
    truth
    But I am higher of that
    Regarded as Saint
    that is what kindness I have


    O' brother
    I write to you today
    for my anniversary of the day
    I died came
    I have seen a ******
    I have seen a robbery
    I have seen the cruelty of humanity
    But all I am and is a bystander
    who keeps His Head down
    With mediocrity
    and hypocrisy
    Ego dominant
    while the Id is miniscule
    Either way
    It seems that
    I can't show my kindness no more


    O' mineself
    I have a confession
    I may see the trash
    out of all the trash
    and though the foggy mirror
    blurs it
    I Still See
    Mineself
    For even though
    I have saved a kittens life
    I have saved a boys life
    I have saved a girls life
    I have saved an adults life
    I have saved my ego
    I have saved my Id
    How more trash could I be
    I can't say sorry
    no
    I can only say that I am no more
    a saint
    a bystander
    just the trashiest
    of all trash
annh May 2020
‘First, the toilet paper panic.
Then a cleaning frenzy,
followed by a baking bonanza.
Now, slow-cooked casseroles
seem to be on the menu.
It's like the seven stages of grief,
…in groceries.’

Economists aren’t generally known for their ability to sustain a metaphor. Woolworth’s CEO Brad Banducci - the exception to the rule - watched the mood of Australians change during the COVID-19 outbreak through the prism of their shopping choices.
Unpolished Ink Jan 2020
Creeping frost

Cold and hard

As charity or jewellers knives

Which melts and quickly turns to flame

The *** that boils

Magnesium hot

Phoenix bright

Cold tears

Sticky with regret

Which sooth and calm

Balm for the soul

Beneath the skin

And healing can begin
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