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Maryann I Feb 21
If I should vanish, will you know?
Will echoes trace where I have been?
Or will the years, like melting snow,
erase the shape of what was seen?

A name dissolves upon the tongue,
a photograph turns pale with dust.
Once voices sang where silence hums,
once love was more than scattered rust.

The walls forget, the sky moves on,
the earth still spins without my name.
And though I whisper, hold me close,
I fear you’ll never do the same.
8. The Fear of Being Forgotten
Zelda Feb 21
He wears a broken watch,
Frozen hands, a falling arrow
Invisible letters, clear as change—

She loves him

Twice a day,
His broken watch tells this truth:
Love is frozen.
No need to wonder,
No need to question.

Very extraordinarily eternally

And time—
Twinkling,
Twirling,
Turning,
Ticking
February 20, 2025
thyreez-thy Feb 19
And even as the rain falls quietly
The cold comes silently
And the time goes past midnight
I still wish to to right
By you, for giving me the gift I lost

A reason to get up and bother writing
In a world nobody would see me worth fighting
For honour, for myself, for what was us
To avoid ever needing to cuss
Even before I knew the cost

I pray you're well even on nights like this
I pray God finds you and that you persist
That if earth isn't our finale
I pray heaven is our reunion
Of 2 wayward souls


That even as the people I once called friends dissapear
That my heart knows you're near
Your value is higher than their memories
Our moments cost more than their stories
I realise now you were always the goal

And if we truly do never meet again
Whether heaven, earth or the next life
I pray our decendants become friends
And bring light where we saw strife

I pray you atleast find peace
In that galaxy you call your eyes
That the rain in the skies
Wash away what prevents you from release
Something I wrote on the spot on one of those nights again. Based on the same person as most of my new work as it inspires me further and more than anything has in the past. Thanks for reading.
Maria Etre Feb 19
The further
I moved away
from my traumata
the closer I see
them running towards me

It’s like a parasitic
relationship
I let them happen
I let them stay
thinking that
if I bought them
a jersey
with
“norm” stitched on it
I would fall for
their play
Full blog here: https://indiedoodles.wordpress.com/2025/02/19/the-in-counter/
Yitkbel Feb 19
Ant Farm of Forever Encased in Ember

By: Yitkbel


Written: Sunday, February 16, 2025


Ant Farm of Forever

I.

It's getting early and it's getting late,
Far from midnight and closer to day.
You're wide awake, always the same,
Your soul drenched in love and fear,
Or dread as they say.

1.

You're daydreaming with your heart again,
Of all the ifs and whens.
And all the dearest whom, and where too.
They were faster travelers than you;
I guess they had to go.
But where to?
You ask, and it's no use.
You're standing in the vastness
Of an empty field.
There's no one to answer you.
Are they traceless,
Except for the traces of memories,
And all the pains of love
Clinging by threads of regret to you?
"Could I trace my way back to them,
Or would these traces leave me too? "
I wish I knew,
I too, am standing in the vastness
Of an empty field.

2.

Have we wandered off too far,
And crossed the threshold?
I can still feel the cold,
But this is a sight to behold.
This is a place devoid of time,
But definitely not life:

See, the barley runs up to the sky,
Waltzing between the old oaks,
Rushing to reach the light.
The pink and blue light,
Swirling about,
Curtaining the shadows,
Behind the clouds.

Have we been left behind?
You know we can fly,
When we're not reality-bind,
Could we reach them in time?
Would I
Would I
Be always left behind?
The child in me cried.
As our feet begin to hover,
And leave the land behind.

3.

It didn't take long to reach the divide,
And when you pushed what felt like
A curtain of cotton aside.
I saw the lines.
These must be the shadows
From your dream of dreams,
And dream of life.
You searched and searched
For a familiar face,
And familiar eyes.
But this place is too vast,
This place is too wide.
They are innumerable,
And only one of each,
Of you and I.

So we remain,
Strangers in this strange tide.
Wondering why.
What is the purpose
Of this winding line,
When someone, somewhere,
After some time-
If you can say that
In place it isn't defined-
Handed down a gift
To every him and her,
An ant farm of forever,
Encased in ember.
Did you see the glint in the center?
Illuminating some ant inside.
Whose eyes is it reflecting off
I wonder?
It's rather familiar, I gather,
Is it yours? Is it mine? Is it his?
Is it hers?
Is it…
Don't you remember?
This is all of your time enclosed in ember!
Where your soul may freely wander!

II.

Those swarms of forgotten fireflies
Under that bike stand light,
Those violet skies pulsating with
A unshakable fear of the unknown
In your naive mind,
Those galactic rides that you never questioned,
Whether they existed beyond the orange city lights,
Those callous hands and wizened eyes,
You were so afraid to be hopeful of seeing
Again
Beyond time, are
There,
At the end of the winding line,
And here,
In your hands,
In this Ant Farm of Forever,
Encased in Ember,
For you to freely wander-
All the choices you have made,
All the love you have loved,
That refuse to fade,
All the senseless days,
You wondered why you must face,
When you thought they will never stay,
Anyway.
Yet, here they are,
Basking in the sun rays.
Glistening with unobscured light.
Just like those same old,
Timeless times.
When the most earthly beings
When the most earthly things,
Were perfectly divine.
I think the concept for this poem came about a few months ago when I was reading the book Einstein's Dreams by Alan Lightman in which there were thirty somewhat fantastical short stories describing universes in which time works differently, or seemingly differently to ours. In one, time was about to end, and I had taken it to be describing a sort of growing block universe mode in which time is finite and had finished growing.

In trying to research whether or not there is a concept of a ‘grown block universe’ rather than growing block universe, I had stumbled upon a short summary of a paper I still have not yet read (PhD Dissertation in Philosophy of Physics by Pieter Thyssen titled: The Block Universe: A Philosophical Investigation in Four Dimensions) that apparently tries to argue for a block universe with free will. To paraphrase the summary, it was described as the block universe enclosing a timeline that was the result of choices by a free agent.

My mind immediately begins to wander like a child trying to see that world in ways that would make sense to its simplicity rather than to actually read the paper itself and see how it is described scientifically.

I was probably taken back to a concept I had described in another poem back in May 2020 that was inspired by an actual dream I had in which I was lifted up out of the universe and have it revealed to be an ant farm in a tank in some lab of sorts.

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3869804/the-eternal-dream/

I had imagined this block universe with free will as an ant farm in which the free agents are the ants and the fill materials as the bulk of spacetime itself. It made sense to me at times as it is not:

Presentism of a slice of an ever changing present moment in which the past no longer exists, and the future doesn't exist yet.
Glowing block universe in which the crawled past continues to be, but the future the ant is crawling towards has yet come to be.
Eternalistic and fatalistic universe that's more like a diorama in which all of time, past, present, future is just there, and forever there, and time is an illusion.

I keep replaying the thought experiment in mind,
and some days this makes perfect sense, and other days I am completely confused.

I can think like the ant in the farm in which my consciousness is present one moment at the time, where the future is unknown, and the past exists as memories.

But I can never truly grasp the mind of a higher being that is physically omnipresent in every moment before, along, and beyond the ant's journey where every moment is just as capable of being acted upon.

Thus, this poem is rather more of my mind’s attempt to find an answer to the purpose of the persistence of certain mundane yet divine feeling moments in life.

And I'd imagine we would each be gifted our own Ant Farm of Forever one day in eternity, where we can wander through those moments of forever over and over.
Aynjul Feb 18
I like to go back and kiss the good parts
not goodbye
just to have a taste again
not on the ugly scars
but the places you've been
out of your way
into curiosity
back where you knew
with your heart
the unknown
might be fun
might hurt
but it was all worth
the surprise
Sunnylands Palm Spring Desert X
Mary Apr 14
Your life is an interrupted story,
No more than short-term blaze of glory.
It’s a metaphor that hits heavily,
‘Cause you’re your perfect mortal enemy.

Tunnel vision hides altered reality,
Your mind took up self-destructive morality,
Each feeling you’ve got is as deep as the ocean,
You lie to yourself that it cannot be poison.

When stars explode, the light is healing,
As it’s all dark you crush the ceiling.
You feel chills going down the spine,
You’re burning out, lost track of time.

And there’s no scream, it’s a silent battle.
It is vain to fix something that’s fatal.
You’ll never know why dead divine
Still haunts you and whispers: «You are borderline»
I shall not come this way again,
I cannot hope to travel on the time I borrow
so I shall seize the chances given me today
and cast away the worries of tomorrow
Having a life limiting illness gives you perspective : )
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