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Isabella May 13
Her broken heart and broken wings were all her clouded eyes could see.
She waited for the fog to clear, seeing a world made blurry from her tears.
Fading like a loveless kiss, fond memories resurfaced of joy and bliss.
Then waves pulled her into the raging sea, and all she was left with were two broken wings.
they keep running out like roll film before me
pictures clicking away faster than i can see
never repeating old faces flashing by
who are you? perhaps seen once in a lullaby
projector is strangely static - the cartridge drops
still it’s going and it’s going and it never stops
nothing! nothing but it’s all over my fingertips
smudged on my forehead and dripping from my lips
i cannot perceive these silverscreens
tangible airs or figments of my dreams
going and going until it tears and rips
nothing! endless nothings all over my fingertips
Isabella May 2
Autumn light spills over the land, the golden sunshine barely peeking over the snow-topped mountains.
A soft breeze sweeps under the orange leaves, urging them into flight as they then drift swiftly into the distance.
A warm hue shines on the blades of grass, reflecting a clear image onto the still, glass pond.
Trees sway hesitantly, casting crooked shadows on the weaving path.
As the last traces of the day dissipate, the planet slipping into a restless slumber, a cool silver mist filters out any last color.
A blurry world stares back at me, chilling wind grabbing hold of my ankles like ice-cold fingers against my bones.
Threatening to pull me down, force clean air into my lungs, pressing on my chest until I have no choice but to inhale, breathing in the crisp fog with sputtering coughs.
Shivers prickle my skin, dancing up my spine and down my arms.
My vision shakes as tears well up in my eyes.
I let my gaze fall one last time on everything around me, taking in the beauty of nature before the light will vanish completely.
A dark world is gut-wrenching when all the lovely things that make Earth precious are clouded by shades of black.
Why open your eyes at night when it will be just the same as what you see when you close them.

The scene fades out of view as I’m forced out of my fond memories at the sound of crying.
The red leaves on the trees, covering the grass, and even swirling in the air shift suddenly into blinding flames, swallowing any lush vision from before.
The evening mist transforms into smoke, sirens and screams wailing in my ears, ricocheting in my mind.
Any calm feeling that had come from my daze snaps out of existence, so quickly it is almost as if it was never even there, as I turn to see the real world burning and falling apart around me.
A vignette. I am very proud of this poem and what it means to me <3
Thomas W Case Apr 24
I nurture the creator in you;
the little god that throbs to be master of
words and colors, lines and notes.
I watch you give birth to it.
I see how it squeezes out of
your brain and crawls across
the floor- all ****** and wet.
It's alive and glorious and grotesque.
You're immortal- a giver of life.
I hold it to my face, and breathe in
the smell of rain, pine trees, and desire.
I kiss its fur, and taste the
fires of hell, cardamom, and oysters, raw and sweet.
I feed it a bowl of saffron threads, soaked in milk,
stare into its wild black eyes; I can hear
it hum a tune in B flat minor, and I wonder,
whose seed is this?
Teea Apr 23
I have loved you since the day that I saw you. Sitting
on the windowsill. Young and naive—you were young and mean.
But different. Careful, paternal, Dependable.
I pour out half of my heart in an SMS format.

Ignored with a wet wing. It would dry. I distanced
We distanced. I ate a danish to make me feel full. No fruit.
My legs shook. Your name made me quiver.
Next turn of the sun there you were. Standing

in the stairwell, happy, friendly, New.
I fell down a rabbit hole. I can’t get back up
Your friend… another. I’m waiting for you in a peach dress.
Your eyes are blinded by the smell of honey. Sweet.

It stings you. You run away.
You came home. I smell like vanilla and cinnamon.
Pushing my warmth away you crave the snow.
Chocolate, chocolate that’s all you are.

‘Swounds. I clean them too. Soft and patient, it stings.
The alcohol helps, I cure. You scratch at the scab.
****** Mary; I am not your mom, I take a sip.
Your trust in my hands, Your heart on your sleeve.
Awaiting my heart to dissolve in your tea like Vitamin C.
Epitaph of viscous fellow
Of whom I knew well without asking
And befriended while basking
In his whiskey nozzle chin
Milking his Acadian shin

Suffice it to say
How aroused was I!
To pet this neutered butterfly
His legs a stiff boulder
Caressed by petaled shoulders

Thick, incumbent man
Dream yourself a body
Where you are all but folly
And laugh at the notion
Of your ceaseless implosions
Sarah Apr 12
once again he navigates
the place within my dreams
from nowhere, he visits
when I least expect it

the day that follows feels surreal, symbolic
driving east I see beams of light
emanating from the clouds
and I wonder what it means.

what did he represent,
with such strange events to follow?
my world went from quiet to chaos
everything turned upside down.

and there he was, at the beginning of it all.
777
Today is a day to celebrate, not to be taken as a given
 Nor take for granted the gift of this our mortal life
  To praise which is to pass from here onto life eternal
   Don’t you know? It’s a mother who forms the endless circle
    Where the circle begins and the circle should end
     She opens a door with a key held only by her hands
      Calling upon angels of heaven to grant her a soul
       She has known me from before the first kingdom
        When the Father brought light to our existence
         Even then, she knew my flaws to their very essence
          She welcomed me without an ounce fear or reservation
           In humility, in obedience to the Father, in loving kindness
            By our Creator’s love, by mother’s choosing, her bravery
Today is her day
                                                                ­                         My mother’s day
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