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kel Sep 26
i'm a procrastinator
barely getting anything done
my body's a traitor
never waking up and finish things

but i guess procrastinators
can be described in a beautiful way too-

procrastinating is like when the tides
fall back and
the path between the islands appears and guides
us as we leave footprints along the path

as the sun sets
and the moon gives us a soft glow
and we wash away our regrets
and finish our little trek

<3
a poem for procrastinators <3
Jeremy Betts Jul 27
Behind deep blue eyes
Like deep blue tides
Is a mystery
Somehow even to me
Behind bright blue eyes
Like bright blue skies
Is not a safe place to be
Not even for me
Behind faded blue eyes
That prove time flies
There's been too much tragedy
Far too much for me
Behind closed blue eyes
That've seen their last sunrise
Is where I'll find tranquility
That's where you'll find me

©2024
Josephine Wild Jun 2023
The silver moon
falls
from sight
as the rising tide
kisses
adjacent piers.

The cool morning
rests
over the gentle bay
as clouds
commute
covering the light of day.

Brown thrashers rhythmically
mimic
stolen song
as they
traverse
the canal.

Barefoot toes
roam
freely
frequenting familiar
footpaths.

Minute minnow mouths
toy
with the bait
bobbing
the cork.

Experienced hands
handle
seafood
adopting its scent
while the blue *****
boil
into crimson.

Afternoon showers
cool
the earth
as a mysterious moon
lowers
the tide.

Night
falls
again
in Mississippi.
Returning to Mississippi
Little
flowers
opened
as you
kissed me
lightly,
the petals
under the
moonlight
dance,
we wore
the robes
of the stars,
and gazed
upon the
tides, we
wondered
how they
beheld
a dream,
always
there
as the
sea of
our
arms,
gilded
in silver
scales,
returning
to a
home
where
you keep
these
hands of
mine
close, be
delicate,
for you
hold my
heart
and
yours.
Dave Robertson Mar 2022
Sometimes, tides behind teeth get stuck
as if the moon, distracted,
looses its inexorable pull

then all the weight of water
sits stagnant
while each pescatarian thought
from the zipping, inconsequential minnow
to the ponderous whale bulk
sulks, sick and stuck

If you see these green gills,
or the overspill in the eyes of those
you know
maybe sit awhile, harbour side
and cast a line or two
Allow
me to
fly
far in
your
arms
as the  
leaves
in the
wind,
I soar
in the
tides
of the
sky,
I am
lost in
the
skies
above,
my soles
touch the
clouds,
the gaze
of my soul
has seen
and known
each thing
as you,
deep is
its song
in colors
of stars,
indigo
and
art,
I touch
the white
fields,  
and,
there
you are,
the breath
of your
embrace
opens,
I am lost,
the roses
in your
eyes hold
me close,
be delicate,
for you
hold my
heart
as your  
silent
whisper,
it calls,
“stargirl,
awaken
in the
chests
of those
who had
never
known
of their
light”
I ask,
“how
can they
not know
of it”, to
which you
answered,
“the
broken
souls,
they seek,
knowing
not how
it was
always
there”
your
words
became
my wings
opening,
to the
darkness,
I cry,
“surrender!”
and all
became
love,
the only
home.
Nat Jul 2021
Tell me
Send voices
Swimming to the shore

Tell me
Smoke signals
Dead weight on the floor

Hanging humid
Limply from the palms
Stiffly stepping
Blood flow slowly calms

The tide drags time
Motion out to sea
Half-remember
Somewhere you'd rather be
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