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Come nebbia,
Nebbia sparsa

Che divien acqua,
Poi torrente,
E poi per sempre

E forte e rapida e turbolenta
Cui vien la vita, la gioia, i colori

Il nostro scopo é
Ma non era niente
A translation of "Like mist", a sweet poem on existential nihilism.

I submitted this to an online contest.
Feel free to vote for 30 days.
It’s time
I’ve been activated
Systems coming online
Nerves buzzing
Electric fingernails
Prickle the scalp

This morning
Was the last of its kind
The wheel of change turns
Revealing a strange  new dawn
Nothing will ever
Be The same
1:11 on 5/5/24
Bekah Halle Apr 10
The grief is deep,
It wells and swells
Deep inside.
I now want to draw near
The deep, and
Peer down inside,
See the waves crashing,
See the pretty foam
From the chaos,
Deep inside.
When I come close,
It’s refreshing,
Lulling me into a deep sleep.
Transforming me from the inside out,
So that your new creation
May come forth.
Be present.
Even in the cold,
Even in the chaos,
Even in the unknown, and
Even in the loneliness.
Like mist, sparse,

becoming water,
and then a river,
and going forever

(and strong and fast and turbulent
growing life and joy and colors)

Our purpose is,
and was never.
Very concise poem on existential nihilism

AE Mar 29
There isn’t much to this week
but on this day, intertwined in a breeze
wondering if the clouds will shower
or burst into a freeze
I read pages and pages of past
taking breaks to peel pears
and slice the strawberries
drizzling honey onto plates
and savouring the sweetness of spring fruit
I think of all the mountains I've yet to climb
and how much I look forward to the rain
but parts of me still hold onto autumn
and the feeling of watching the trees
shift into a new ending
It’s just like how these days
I keep returning to the shelves on these walls
picking up all the books
from every conversation in the past
and trying to, once again, read between the lines
to decipher when those questions
became answers
Kasansa Kuya Jun 2020
a malignant haze
hitherto unnoticed and henceforth witnessed
the struggle of the enlightenment
I think people may feel this in these uncertain times.
Will it burn me up?
This extraordinary love?
I let my self go
Amo sorridere,
Voglio volare,
Spingere, spingere fuori,
Andare, andare, andare

Fissarti il colore degli occhi e basta oppure guardare e fantasticare

Vorrei vibrare, vibrare
Come foglie al vento
Come un albero secolare
Movimenti in ogni direzione

Sento il mio cuore che segue il tamburo che segue il rumore che sento rombare

Esplorare il verde, il verde
Chiusi gli occhi al vento e al sole
Pelle morta che si libera nell'aria
Voglio odore, odore, odore

Sentirti un profumo inebriante come un esplosione che saturi tutto tra naso e sapore

Voglio andare piano o veloce
Costruirmi, costruire, costruire
Le braccia tese all'infuori,
e stringersi a sé stessi

Voglio abbracciare con il petto e con le mani ed incendiare e bruciare le vene e il cuore

Voglio creare,
fare cazzate,
Gioire, soffrire, amare,
Capire, vivere, baciare,

Voglio annegare e gustare le mucose e la bocca ed il silenzio e l'immenso

e come un cotone galleggiare
Weaving a new cotton sheet, a piece dedicated to experiences, the senses, and the sensations. More of a stream of consciousness of reality, yours. Mine. Who knows.

AE Feb 16
Dish soap-soaked hands
Dreams stuck to the bottom of these ***** pots
I wash and dry
still thinking about the rain in September And holding onto drops of July
Silence, a gentle hum, an occasional cough my eyes fixed on searching for all those planets
And blue moons
But never making it past the windowpane home to reflections of an unrecognizable face

I revel in how fast this life changes
and how much I miss the rain
Bekah Halle Jan 31
Little girl, big brimmed hat,
alone, with suitcases,
traveling to boarding school she sat.
Wanting to be embraced by loving arms,
reassuring tones, peaceful pungent breaths, she calms,
but, the war loomed outside,
and onwards she tried.
The constant Chameleon: hairdresser, interiors, reporter and healer,
now, the season of inner healing to transform into a counsellor.
But, it’s the true counsel that she heeds,
to transform from the wounds that bleed.
May she hear from You, the One who truly heals.
May You lovingly embrace and hold all she feels.
May the little girl grow up into the woman You imagined,
And may she bloom into a lush garden with seeds You've planted.
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