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Amanda 6d
Could it be...
Me who decided to make a change?
Me who knew nothing would ever be the same?
Me who set goals and accomplished them?
Me who can finally say I forgive him?
Me who put the pieces back together?
Me who sees you and feels forever?
Me who continues to grow?
Me who finally allows emotions to show?
Me who now smiles at the person in the mirror?
Me who knows life couldn’t be any clearer?
Me who makes a difference each and everyday?
Me who overcame all the obstacles along the way?
Ophélie S Dec 8
it is what it is,
i say
but it may change,
you reply and -
your eyes glisten like
the sun above a dark
a tiny boat rocking toward distant horizons.

this is the day when
the cage is torn open and
all the pet birds are thrown outside;
we won't ever be able to
meet eyes the same way when tomorow comes.
The winds and bright dying
of the leaves of fall
have brushed away the turning season
into the callous cold of winter
leaving behind a brown texture
of oak and pecan
scattered on the still green lawn
where they rest humbly,
their identity as living species
shriveling into the fog of memory.

I wonder what I can learn
from those leaves and the trees
who gently let go of all the little lives
and lay them on the ground
first to decay and then transform
from drying aching olding  
into a mysterious unfolding.
Thanks to Brian Francis who publishes his work on http://www.pathetic.org and his poem, "Bluster" which inspired my poem.
Shay Dec 2
Petals in the wind
So effortlessly dancing around my chaos

Ocean breeze pushing against the current of my soul

Why so tormented are you
Must you be drawn back to the ripples in the water of your evolution

Of your rebirth



Messages from and to within
All lies in the wind

Like petals in the wind
Dancing so effortlessly in my chaos

Life is the dancer and I the dance

How is she capable of that
how can she so casually betray?
it barely touches her
the most painful thought for her
is to be cheated on
to not be wanted
to be lied to
to be left
that is exactly what she does
is it an unconscious need for control
her shadow running a muck
if she is the one doing it then she is in control
false control
bless her fragile ego
that stops real lasting love
true belonging
she gets that it is complex
that there are blind spots
lurking in the background
not revealing themselves to the light of day
some thread she needs to find
that if she could pull would unravel all the manipulation
the twisted desires
the dark needs
Arke Oct 26
a chemical cocktail spills from your lips
your tongue drips pure moonshine
table varnish leaks on the floor
i've been polishing for hours
can't get it clean, can't get clean
i scrub harder until my skin is red
and blood blemishes the rug nearby
my friends are the beams of sun
that show ashes in the air
i don't want to breathe it any more
i feel it scrape inside my lungs
wanting to get out and escape
white powder, lines of dust
and little pills that keep me sedated
my nose scrunches at the smell
of strong ozone and the taste
of metal forming in my mouth
while ironing out radiation particles
wondering where it all went so wrong
Amanda Oct 26
Staying up late each anxious night
Wishing you had not given in to heartache
The choice to split technically mine
It was one you forced me to make

You provided no better options
Back pressed against a disappearing wall
The thing keeping me upright through problems
Cracked skeleton hardly holding weight at all

I know I am weak, words paper-thin
Sit here stuck in the same position
Nothing to improve the frustrated state I'm in
My mind rummaging for proper recognition

Plans made are crumbling to dust
Flames dance around, we are running out of air
Hearts racing, to win we both think we must,
Wondering which is the tortoise and which the hare

Games we play but not enjoy
Again and again use my heart as a toy
Each endless night I lie awake
Staring at the ceiling retracing mistakes

Collapse like a deflated lung
Fated to gasp for more air
Throat hoarse from sad songs sung
Past pain shouting "Please beware!"

I found the same outcome too many times
In patterns we are destined to repeat
Yet I still walk identical lines
Straight into the familiar defeat
If you always do what you've always done you'll always get what you've always gotten
Elicia Hurst Oct 20
Master Blacksmith, I would like to commission a weapon most formidable. The mere mention of its legendary name shall strike fear in my foes.

{ In Hephaestus’ name, I craft you this }

So I will hone your heart,
Set fire to your lungs,
And conquer all your unanswered prayers
Into a battle roar.

I will boil these tears.  
A stinging, blinding pool at the bay of your eyes,
Use them for crystal clarity,
To sharpen the mind like a whetstone.

I will forge a sword from your fury,
And the hate of your enemies.
Temper it with thunder,
Cut a path out of illusions.

But not before this:
I crush your spirit a thousand times,
Force you to your knees.  
I will show no mercy on your soul —
Not even if you beg for it —
Bleed it, wring the daylight out of it.
To your despair, growth is the cruelest devil,
And I its most loyal advocate.

But in time you will learn Strength,
And to heal;  
Through the growing pains and screams
Mend all broken bones,
Stitch up all the open wounds.
Dripping, drilling, stilling.
You will, you will, at your will,
Lace together the miracle, the magum opus: Your undefeated self.

No comfort or ease lies in death.  
But all phoenix bathe in flame and ash.
Selves and egos, they died for you to live
— So live!
Dance on its grave with manic abandon.
Honor it with your new life.
Transcend it, over and over again.
20 Oct 2018, as a token of strength, for all my soul-crushing pain to come.
Arke Oct 16
the vines began to creep up
we didn’t know when they first started growing
little green buds buried deep below
I tamped them down with my feet
like weeds, they'd regrow stronger
they tied themselves around my ankles
robust enough to immobilize
converting my legs into a mess of thorns and trunks
my body paralyzed at the centre
the branches took the longest to grow
when the first one shot through
I thought I'd be upset, but felt only relief
the black flecks of my eyes became the dead of winter
not a single leaf could ever grow on these limbs
but as the roots thickened, I began to forget
what it felt like to ever walk or speak or love
I knew thirst and hunger, the need to grow
taking no comfort in feeling rooted
but not remembering how to move, either
drowned in my own thicket
I needed to be felled to bud anew
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