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LLillis May 19
Mid-day streetlights glow
bright against the darkened sky,
Children scatter home.
A heavy spring storm rolled over my suburban area today. A genuinely nice day filled with barbecues and lawnmowers got so dark the streetlights came on, it gave everything a grey-orange glow as everyone packed up what they were doing around their homes and ran to avoid the coming downpour.
Skye Nov 2019
I am
A dark sploch
dancing in the
orange glow
wavering, undecided

It is dark
So dark and deep
and I wonder
Why is there only one?
One circle that
fades from a tangerine
to a shade so black
It's the inside of blueberries

I wonder,
Where did the
glowing seeds
disappear to?
Why have they
not replenished our stock,
our sky?
They have been blotted out
By the pumpkin light

I stand in the shine
And I fall in the shine
Just as the bulb
Flickers
and
Dies
and the seeds
appear once more
Waiting for stars
Alek Mielnikow Mar 2019
Do you remember the night I came
down, and you were sitting on the
windowsill? One leg up and the
other left hanging, in one of your
white oversized shirts and your
hot-pink pajama pants. Outside
the snow fell like feathers, blue
in the moonlight and black in the
shadows, with a tinge of orange
from that annoying nearby streetlight.

You looked at me, saw me in my
blue boxer briefs and teal t-shirt,
and you didn’t say a word, and
neither did I. Neither of us had
to. I sat down beside you, a mirror
image, and we stared with deafening
expressions. The snow piled on
like feathers strewn across the
room of two lovers too happy to
control themselves. I looked into
the darkness, and you glanced at
the orange sun tainting the solemn
blue hue. And then you turned away,
walked away. I stayed, watching
the snow fall in the dark.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow
'Ello ya'll! So, I'm usually too busy stroking other things to stroke my own narcissism, but I just want to say that, if I take my ego out of the equation and judge this poem dissociatively, I believe it is the best poem I have written. I wrote it with the intent of there being a deeper meaning behind it. But since I've written it, I keep thinking of different ways you readers would interpret the bits and pieces, and I keep coming up with countless different ideas between the images and details and the relationship. It's honestly freaking me out. But aside from my obvious boasting, I would encourage you other poets and writers to read back on your own works and try doing the same thing. Put yourself in someone else's shoes and see if your bits and pieces can be interpreted in a different light than you initially intended. You might be pleasantly surprised that one of your works is more complex than you thought possible, and you can use what you learn from that odd experience in future works. Anyways, I hope my shameless self-promotion isn't too intrusive in my bigger message/advice, and in the end I just hope you read and enjoy. Ciao!
nitelite Feb 2019
As the reach of shadows lengthen
and the world turns cold and indifferent,
the soul seeks to find its way home,
a place it's never been, teased by instinct.

As the earth’s own shadow cloaks a world
the body rests and the mind dreams,
leaving the soul to wander,
across the earth in its lifelessness.

As the world makes peace with itself,
where the night sky betrays its cold demeanor,
and dawn's light misses its cue, spilling early
the flames borne from a snowfall's sky.

As porchlights pierce and dot a peaceful haze,
the snow naturally draped over me like a blanket,
and so I had to watch the world with wonder
and a certain comfort.

yellow streetlights call us home
in memory, as so in childhood


i remember a rich wisteria night sky,
pouring a soft and silky rain of immaculate crystals.
at the bottom of the cul-de-sac, three inches of snow on the mailbox
my parents ushered me inside, afraid i’d get cold, but i forgot to be.

a yellow streetlight illuminated the flowing wisps
who became snow when they touched down onto the earth
i swore that they winked to me in their final moment
through the glistening of their eyes

i remember catching them, wanting to save them
but they melted into my hands instead or got lost in my warm breath
yet even in their demise, they winked
and with ever-glistening eyes, said goodbye to me

this is to where my soul would first wander
after its body freed it at last,
where a bed of jovial wisps across the whole cold earth
could tuck me in under the yellow streetlight
Sienna Dec 2018
There’s a woman in the streetlight surrounded by reddish dark
Her body feeling numb, her body feeling stark
As she waits for a man to come and leave his mark
No father or dreams nothing to believe
Sold into this life, her mom is the enemy
And her tears and body are its currency
No point to beg or plead
The lonely men are satisfied when she bleeds
She gives them all and everything
But they continue to feed
Some get careless and leave her to breed
A baby on the way but the world it’ll never see
As the red on her legs triggers tears to the sink
Again she starts the cycle
Smoking a cigarette, sitting under the light pole
Dreading the next man to take her to bed
Knowing sooner or later she’d be left for dead
But the feeling won’t register anymore
As mommy had done this to her
Mommy had made her a *****
And now she’s only wanted nothing more
Then to go to a home and open a door
Without fear of being pushed to the floor
While her body is seen as just another lure
She never asked for this or the ***** kiss
Never wanted to feel it forced in
As her body grows tired and gets fragile and thin
Wishing again and again for a better life as another tear rolls off her chin
And joins the others in the puddle of unwanted sin.
Thera Lance Sep 2018
Black is too much light
On a starry night.

He’s the one who lurks
Just on top of the street lamp’s light,
Above gazes that look up at cloudless skies and crescent moons.

Once, black was the comforting underside of a child’s blanket,
The closed-eyed darkness before dreams,
The glorious shadow of the day’s new moon.

Now, he spreads out of his bounds
Pulled out by the sprawl of the eternal lamp light.
And in the place of starlight,
Only darkness rules the night.
And here's a tribute to the effects of light pollution
hxrvld Jun 2018
Shoulder to shoulder
Finger to finger
Thirst of love
Filled with love
Overflowing love
City lights in Eden
Caresses somewhere hidden
Streetlight kisses
Walking beside the blue river
Lured by the old architect
Under the lost city of Pompeii
French kisses in the quiet palace
Sinless pleasure
Singing beside asphalt
Down to the town
Of dazzle diamonds
Lovely dinner
Fulfilled the hunger
Ends at the train station
With no kisses
& heavy feeling.
Raegan Meyer Jan 2017
it had been too dark
in the middle of the night

i was choking with fright

surely we can
reward
the streetlight
you, my dear friend, are the streetlight. i was lost and scared in the dark and you shone bright. and for that, i thank you.
Arihant Verma Jul 2016
A Direct line to the eye’s sight, first time,
Under a morning seeming streetlight, was a blow
to the upper bounds of my notions of the eye color
I longed to deep dive in. An absolute nothingness, when it came to the words outspoken
to a body and a mind, sitting next to me, so it came down to
not all the things and happenings having reasons and
not consoling a needy in fear of an upside down doing failure, and like between life and death are only breaths,
the silence between the sentences was filled with ours’
and deaths by chocolate, and thoughts of silences
of the other’s mind, unheard of, aware only of
unbeknownst wind of familiarity of an unknown kind.
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