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Jez 1d
There is and will always be a hole in everyones heart, but the real hole is hidden beneath that hole.
That hole signifies your knowledge on your acads, family, friends, or a certain someone.

I was talking to myself, wanting to make another poem, and all my poems consist of the kind of person I am. But not all.

     A certain someone left a hole in my heart, I was curious and explored it, the more I explored, the more knowledge I gained. Eventually I reached the end of that hole, but I was not satisfied, so I dug deeper and deeper and deeper, and the deeper I went, the more knowledge I gained again and again.

It's heavy, the pressure is heavy. It's like when  deeper you dig on the earths surface the more pressure you felt, it's like that. That pressure in the hole i'm in, is the pressure of knowledge, but i've dug to the point where there's no going up, and plus I got more curious, a big mistake I say.

Then I knew I was nearing the end of that hole, I was so relieved since I can't handle the pressure anymore, then one more digging, and the floor beneath me crumbled, and I fell deeper and deeper and everything i've learned, the bigger picture, I know now. I'm in the buttom of the hole now, no light, no way out. The regret comes rushing in "oh why did I explore". It hurts knowing everything, how that certain person think, moves, what their schedule is, and the reason behind their actions. Feeling like there's no escaping and no getting out, left or right, fron or back, there's a wall of dirt " How do I get out". Stuck in there for days, the irony, since I don't even know if a day had passed.

I talk to my self again, since I know my
inner self knows what to do, but I just act oblivious, unintentionally. Just accept it and move on, it said. The only way to move on is if you dig deeper, there's mo other way, up or down, left or right, front or back there's no way. I dug more once again, I shouldered it all. The more I dug, slowly but surely the pressure lessened, but the heavier the shovel and my feets got. Until I dug out, finally i'm out, I said. I looked in the hole, now there's a deep deep hole left behind, feeling heavy, regret sadness, melancholic? Joy?. Until I got used there having a hole. Eventually you'll fall into that hole again in the future, but if you've truly moved on, that hole should be shallow but still noticeable.
I hope you guys get what I'm tryna point out
The hail poured on the grey pavements and Juliette sighed as she looked out her car window, it was a rainy night in Syracuse, although she didn’t mind it as she loved the scent of the dew falling, she was a girl with an eccentric nature living in a world of other humans acting as ghosts.

She drove her small, decent car into the university’s under-ground parking and breathed a sigh of relief as she found a tight, clear opening, she placed her car there and exited to close the door behind her as she felt her skin tingle, there was a presence that was glowing and waiting. Her sixth sense was powerful and never failed her in any way, she turned her head and gasped as blazing scarlet eyes faced her, she whispered in fear, “You must tell me, who are you?” even though she felt as if her skin was frozen while opening her phone’s light to see the strange one before the shining eyes widened and the figure vanished.

It took a while for Juliette to regain her mental composure and balance, she was mystified by what the iridescent pupils wanted from her, although her mind was aware that couldn’t receive her answers for now. Eventually, she straightened her shoulders and walked to the parking elevator to reach the 3rd floor of her college and attend her classes, time passed as she listened half-intently to professors teaching their classes, for Juliette’s mind was too taken by the mystical encounter she went through as the day turned to darker skies and her academic day soon came to a close.

While driving home she listened to her favored jazz CD before her thoughts turned to making a visit to the local bookstore near her house, “It will have to wait till tomorrow”, she thought, “I’m tired after a long day of excessive socialization and I have loads of homework to finish”, she reached her house on James Street and tiredly walked up the stairs to her room.

After finishing all her homework and cleaning her room, she emailed her parents to let them know she was home and typed about her day before resting her head on the desk and sleeping.

In her dream, Juliette stared wistfully into the night sky from a field dreaming of her prince to come, her being, heart, and chest filled with love and seeking to share it with something other than the moon as she heard it's white lunar language, “perhaps he will not be a prince, but a monster” and her eyes fluttered open, she arose and entered her bed, wondering to herself about the meaning of the dream before closing her eyes once more.

The golden sheets of sunlight streamed through the home’s clear glass windows and touched the fair skin of Juliette, her thick, light brown hair was now a tangled mess as she struggled to brush it, her honey-colored eyes gazing into the mirror and seeing a bedraggled girl that need retouching. After an hour passed, she finally was satisfied with her smoother, wavy hair adorned with dark hair clips and a casually chic outfit as she walked out of her home.

Today Juliette was pleased with her course-free day, so she spent it walking from her house to the “Books and Melodies” store, upon entering she smiled in contentment at the beautiful sight of the used books and records, she wandered by the books until her eyes stopped at a certain classic she liked. It was located on a shelf a little bit higher than her short, 5’5" height, so she was required to rise onto her toes to even see it until a hand inhumanly whiter than snow took it, Juliette said with a shy voice “I wanted that book…” until her voice was interrupted by his velvet-voiced introduction, “Hello, my name is Roche” he spoke with full lips curling up into a smirk, “If you need this book, find another copy”, while Julietta could only stare at his rich raven hair, delicately sharp jawline and slender, ruby eyes before she managed a few words, “You can call me Juli”, to which he gently laughed as he leaned down to meet her gaze with his smoldering eyes and placed the book in her hands, “I apologize for my mischievousness, this is the book you desired”,  Julietta felt light headed before she mumbled, “wait, I know those eyes from before, I’ve seen them in a certain parking lot” before he calmly said, “I don’t believe we should continue this conversation” as he vanished into thin air.

Julietta was unsettled, by both his elegance and his sudden disappearance, though she could not do anything more for now, so she paid for her book and left the store, while still being a little emotionally shaken. When she returned home after a long walk, Julietta rested and had a vision of Roche with his perfect features and emotional gaze mesmerizing her senses as they held together in a field of roses.

The dream ended when she awakened from her sleep after hearing a deep-throated snarl and her eyes turned to see a white, inhuman monster with pitch-black eyes in her room ready to attack until Roche appeared into view and ripped the beast’s neck with his teeth, his eyes then blazed and widened after seeing Julietta with a near-tears expression, he walked to her slowly and embraced her, “Juli..” as he held her closely, “I am so sorry that you had to see that” his jaw firmed and continued, “But I promise to always protect you from harm” to which Julietta, with her broken voice, murmured “I will trust you, Roche, but please don’t ever vanish when I need you the most” to which he whispered, “I will never, never again leave your side” and they kissed deeply and profoundly to seal their silent promise to never part.

The seasons passed, and the love of Julietta and Roche grew greater in strength and passion, they made preparations for their marriage until the special day arrived and they celebrated with the families of Juliette and Roche, the specially invited singer was a close friend of Juliette, and he sang his final song for the night:

“The princess of roses says to her prince, "My only, comprehend how there is so much to exist for and relish, I am here in your eyes for our elysium, in the longer hours of this night, let us be lost", the white doves above the dark green trees flew by the pearly clouds as they remained near to each other with their fates untold.
Yuz 6d
They said it was God's plan.
I didn't really get what that meant.
I was just living,
day by day,
doing my own things
not expecting anything.

Then you showed up.
Just like that.
Outta nowhere.
Long story
crazy story, really.
The kind you won't belive if i said it right.

We were never supposed to meet.
Too far apart,
too many " it wont "
But somehow… it did.

And us ?
"Were same Same-same,
But diffrent,  but still same" if you know what i mean

It’s wild,
because I wasn’t looking.
I didn’t ask for you.
But there you were
and now I can’t unsee it.
I can’t unfeel it.

So maybe this really is God's plan.
Or maybe the universe just got bored
and decided to do something right
for once.
They call the ship 'Burden,'
An indestructible vessel,
Rival to the monsters of the sea.
It's exactly what the people needed,
For you see,
In the depths lurked a beast.
Eighty tentacles, four trade ships tall and wide,
A hundred-thirty teeth when it's smile lied.
They called it, "Kraken."
It was nothing of the likes you've seen,
Emperor of the dark sea.

The Burden could hold fifteen hundred men,
Arming harpoons, cannons, muskets, wit.
The king ordered them to turn the seas red with gore,
Call forth the Kraken,
Strike it dead.
Then to the king,
They would drag back it's head.

So come high-noon,
The ship was in place,
Above the deepest of sea caves.
Letting forth crates of bait,
Staining the waters of the sea,
Until the sailors heard a rumble,
Shake the Burden's iron shell.

Up from the waters came long river's hell,
Tentacles like spires towering well beyond the sails.
But the crew held steady,
"Tighten the ropes, arm our cannons,"
Cried the captain,
"Then fire!"
The seas filled with blood,
The sky filled with gunpowder, fractured shells,
A shriek rang out from the deeps.
The cry of death,
From the Kraken itself.
Tentacles sinking away,
"The head!" Cried the captian,
So Lutenent Lucus dived after the creature.

Tied by a rope,
Pike in hand,
The creature's head,
He began to drag.
Though, glancing over his shoulder,
Through the murk he could see,
The form of a woman swimming away.
Some curse broken, he decided,
A soul freed from grim reality.

Peace.
I love a good sea fairing story!
Tara Jun 9
Entwined in each other’s arms,

It wasn’t our first embrace,

Nor the second—

It felt like eternity.

Wrapped in warmth and illusion,
Our eyes met,

And my soul asked softly:

What is love?
His lips found mine.
My body responded to obsession
Disguised as passion.

A voice within whispered, Stop.

But I wondered—
What’s the worst that could happen?
In the end, I lost a friend

And found a teacher.

Together, we unearthed

The broken and shamed within me.
Together, we stood

In the light of darkness,

In the joy of sorrow,

In the healing of pain.
Then I walked away—

Far, far away—
To the land of escape,

In search of my destiny.

My only true guardian

Was me—
Myself,

And the story I carried.
When I look back,

I see the fear.

When I see now,
I
honor the trust

I placed in myself

To shape a better future.
I searched for answers,

And my soul listened.
I suffered alone—

But I don’t have to live alone.
So now I rise.

I speak.
I love myself—

Not in halves, but whole.
I am joyful.

I am trusting.

I am free
And here I am—

Writing this poem,

So our conversation never ends.
I am grateful.

I am whole.

Life is this and that—

An ending,

And the beginning

Of something new.
Till we meet again,

In a new life,

With a new plan.
Piyush Jun 4
A blue-feathered bird,
Sitting on my shelf,
Tells me a story
Not found in itself.

Of a poet and dead,
Of words that he said.
The poet was poor,
Only had words to pour.
The dead was once alive,
She was the king’s only tribe.

They met in shade,
No eyes, no blade.
He spoke in rhyme,
She gave him time.
No crown, no gold—
Just hands to hold.

The king knew
The poet’s affection—
For him, his daughter
Was no mere connection.
He ordered,
“Don’t ****, don’t spill the blood,
Write some words from the mud.
Hang him in the night,
When the moon will rise—
The poet’s will should die.”

She cried,
Yet they beat him
Till the night.

The story, never whole,
Remains told
By the blue-feathered bird.
The bird still sings, its voice not done,
Read the rest — there’s more than one.
Sandy Jun 4
Every Morning,when I rise, I do make sure
there’s nothing in my mind
nothing in my body
and nothing in my soul
as if I am a bottomless whole
as if I am a fresh born baby

Then I make sure,whatever work I am going to do
In the day
Will improve my mind,body or soul or
Somebody’s other body, mind or soul
And if my work is neither doing anything I said above
Then I am a useless monster just passing my time for sure

And when I have done the improvement work
Then every night, when I sleep
I feel mind like heaven
Feel my soul dancing
Feel my body energetic

And  if I have done no improvement work
Then I feel no difference between
Rising and sleeping.
I was a bottomless whole and still
Have achieved no goal.

Now you decide o people!!
Whether you want difference in your rise and sleep
Or you just want similarity
And remaining at the bottom of heap.

Choice is yours o people!!
Options are mine
I suggest you  to chose the improvement option
As it will take you to the cloud nine.

And then every morning, when I rise.
I do make sure……
I do make sure……
Straight from the old  diary
Cadmus Jun 2
🐺

The more I understand man
and what he’s capable of…

the more I am convinced
the wolf was framed

and Little Red
wrote the story.

🧣🧣
Interpretations are often shaped by those who survive to tell the tale. Sometimes, the villain is just the one without a voice.
I opened that notebook again,
After ages I picked my pen.
Pressed strength on my wrist,
Gave my hand a gentle twist.

Scribbling through, I went on
In the world where ink lace spun.
But it was different from what I knew,
This ink was of a different hue.

And I flipped the pages back
A glimpse of me in the ink stained rack
The letters were bolder, deeper even
They held power higher than I now sustain.

And so I closed my notebook again,
It's ink wasn't in my own pen.
And I closed the lid once more
Let it sit where it was, before.
The ink wasn't mine to use,
It wrote a story where I couldn't fuse
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