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John McCafferty Jan 2020
Are you anxious or excited?
Perception tricks
same headspace ticks
Stretch beyond the point of comfort
fearful of the pain it brings
Persist the test through fight or flight
response is timed
Allow for growth
gain knowledge and engage
With experience we evolve
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Madison Greene Jan 2020
how could I love myself
and hate the memories that have molded me?
my roots are planted deep beneath the earth
but petal by petal I am growing
making peace with my past
it hurts to stretch this much
but I have learned that I was made for more than just unraveling
and look at how far I’ve come, at how much I’ve survived
I’ve learned to love my dark parts even if no one else will
I’ve learned how to walk fearlessly through the fires I face even if they burn me
Bhill Nov 2019
It's always in the mornings when it happens
Sometimes it's not extraordinarily and sometimes it is
Rolling onto your back and stretching before you can fully open your eyes seems to bring it on
What is it...?
And
Why do your toes point whilst it occurs?

Figure it out....

Brian Hill - 2019 # 285
Stretch it out..
Bhill Oct 2019
Stretch it out

Your internal time clock says it time
You feel your self waking up...
Yawn, open your eyes just a bit to see if it's light
Remember where you are
Stretch out those sleeping legs
Throw your arms over your head and...
Stretch....  
Stretch till you feel the muscles wake up
Wow...  Wow that feels good
Are you ready?
Let's go
Forget that, I'm going back to sleep....

Stretch it out...

Brian Hill - 2019 # 250
Wake up, get out of bed...
Proctor Ehrling Sep 2019
A ghost of a house is a blueprint
A soul of a blueprint is a sketch
A sketch's spirit is in vision
And lemme tell you, your vision's quite a stretch
A guy I know has a tendency to develop things and plan for stuff he has no way of ever accomplishing. This little nugget js written in about 2 minutes.
Sneha Thakur Aug 2019
.
At the end of the day , it's just you curled within you , within you ,
with your thoughts floating ,
even with all this gravity.

You are a woman ,
With muscles that
stretch and curl ,
With skin ,
Which glows.
Look down.
There’s a whole world below,
dug out and timber-framed,
mapped and named.
Its tunnels stretch for miles
under the mountain.

Once it shook with blasting,
screech of train, and whistles.
The coal was iridescent blue.
Headlights on a curved track
burst like shooting stars
out of the deep.

That mirror world is dark now.
The men laid down their tools,
and took the mantrip
to the surface, home.
In the quiet,
hear the mountain sigh.
was in canmore, canada for vacation. saw these words engraved into the sidewalk... thought it was really poetic!

/taken from the canmore city website/
Canmore was named in 1884 by Donald A. Smith, an employee of the Canadian Pacific Railway. The name originates from a town on the northwest shores of Scotland named in honor of King Malcolm III of Canmore. The anglicized version of the Gaelic Ceann Mór , Canmore has been variously translated as "big head" or, more likely, "great head" or "chief".

In 1886 Queen Victoria granted a coal mining charter to the town and in 1887 the first mine was opened.

The North West Mounted Police built their first barracks in Canmore in 1890. It was vacated in 1929 and turned into a private residence. Later, in 1989 the barracks was purchased back by the town and restored.

Through the early 20th century many of the coal mines in the Bow Valley began to shut down. The nearby towns of Anthracite, Georgetown and Bankhead closed down and many of the buildings and residents were relocated to Banff and Canmore. In 1965, Canmore was incorporated as a town with 2,000 residents. I
Anastasia Jul 2019
Beginning of the day
Morning
Light is leaking in from between my white gauzy curtains
Dancing shadows of leaves show a performance on my skin
My golden hair gently moves as I lift up my head
Blood rushes
The familiar scenery of my room leads to content
I stretch,
Arching my back and pointing my toes
One of my socks fell off as I slept
Last night floods my mind
Maria Etre May 2019
You strummed my chords
and played the song of lust
my body complied
controlled my being
moans and such
you held me yesterday
stretched me
cupped my neck
rested your fingers
on my lips
you strummed
and slid the rest
up and down my frets
I feared no more
my body jolted
with the thunder outside
as he strummed my delicate lips
down there
tears wet his fingers
it wasn't the song of lust
no more
it was different
he was clueless
that tonight
he was playing
the blues
instead
Anastasia Jan 2019
jagged lines
as though a child created
then in crayon.
bold, beaming
thunder strikes.
their fingertips trace
dips and peaks,
until they engulf
pale skin.
until the pink
matches her cheeks.
until they match those of the
tigers,
zebras,
okapis.
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