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Zywa 1d
A travel story

without an experience

is just air – bad breath.
#103 – “Heer Bommel en de wilde wagen” (#103 – “Tom **** and the wild wagon”, 1963, Marten Toonder)

Collection "Bearer Toonder"
arCamm Jun 9
I am splattered ink on these empty white walls.
a story told by collisions.
splashes of my deepest intuitions:
a handprint embroidered here,
a slash of claws over there,
a baby footprint by the door to say "goodbye" to my innocence,
a distorted smile on the ceiling that could easily be mistaken for a question mark,
and a cancellation symbol on the window shunning anyone's smart *** remarks.

a mess...
and if one were to try and clean me up,
my secrets beneath would devour them whole.

- a.r. Camm
Zywa May 30
Tear open a bag

and watch the garbage: a swirl –

of little stories.
“Asman” (“Binman”, 2020, Nyk de Vries)

Collection "After the festivities"
I feel like an open book
not just some words on paper,
with still some story to tell
trying to mean something greater.
perpetually surrounded by stories but finding one for yourself is almost like a needle in a haystack!
stillhuman May 4
Dragons, witches, monarchs' sons
all of them forcing me to run
never allowing acceptance nor grief
no people involved, only politics

With things like this I must say
all that I had was yours to take
and my life too I would gift you
if only death had not coloured you blue

Early as the sun when it shines first
a beam of light from your smile could burst
and the warmth of it would haunt me for days
as did your words when you begged me, "stay"

And I would hold you tight
through day and night
if only it might
lock us still forever in time

But, golden hair shines no more
and blue eyes are known through ancient lore,
but as the old man who walks the shore
your presence is still intact in my core
Need I say more?
Martin Boško Apr 27
Many choices lie ahead
Many riddles to be solved
Many things are left unchecked
Many stories to be told
Shwetha sb Apr 23
when all they grow old,
practices and beliefs are getting sold
to their grandchild ,and surprisingly found some accede
looking at the past few years,
they met with themselves and never lived with tears
yeah,they cry sometimes when someone knocked them down
but they never stayed long low on ground

today, lying warm at bed,
smiling at all memories they treasured,
happy to enter for a long slumber,
and waiting to become a dream inside a dreamer...
Grand parents have time for you when everyone else is too busy..
They are like living storybook,who tells you the stories of unseen past...
Beckie Davies Apr 21
What's the point of telling stories
If no-one is around to hear them?

What's the point of being alive
If everyone else is dead?
what is the point?
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