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s y kalindara Nov 2021
I am not my father's daughter;
though I have his walnut eyes and raven hair,
I don't leave my fury's aftershocks behind
to ricochet off my bloodline,
and the cracks on my walls were born from cheap paint,
not the turbulence of my fists against skin,
slamming doors and the echoes of my sins.

Copyright © 2021 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
I wish my father wasn't so angry.

(p.s. follow me on instagram, if you'd like to @sykmusings ♡)
Sweet Rain Sep 2021
Stories swirl free
Memory fantasy dream
Constellating stars
Blurring transposing like art
Lonely snowflakes weep,
Wishes for gifts meant to keep
It's about things held deep inside swirling, shifting, dissolving, and then starting to clarify. I'm hoping the meter helps illustrate that?
I swallow your words
And begin to mellow out.
Turbulence in my bloodstream,
Yet static numbness all throughout.

An accent laced with malice,
By a tongue that knew no sympathy.
You graced me with the fortunes
Of love's complex simplicities.

Love baffles.
Love hurts.
Trivial hearts.
Jac Aug 2020
when the flowers started to bloom
they withered
all of them  —
in my mind, at least
for the eye it is pleasing

i do not feel this ease

the wind does not calm me
it acts more like the turbulence
of my emotions
weighing me down
to earth.
Still, I'm in the eyewall,
Still fighting,
All the turbulence of harsh winds,
But, with every drop of strength left within,
I trek forward, step after step,
Hoping that one day,
I'll reach the eye of this storm
Note: In a storm, EYE  is a region of calm weather at the center whereas EYEWALL is the surrounding region with strong thunderstorms and severe weather.
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
The Peripheries of Love
by Michael R. Burch

Through waning afternoons we glide
the watery peripheries of love.
A silence, a quietude falls.

Above us—the darkening pavilions of clouds.
Below us—rough pebbles slowly worn smooth
grate in the gentle turbulence
of yesterday’s forgotten rains.

Later, the moon like a ******
lifts her stricken white face
and the waters rise
toward some unfathomable shore.

We sway gently in the wake
of what stirs beneath us,
yet leaves us unmoved ...
curiously motionless,

as though twilight might blur
the effects of proximity and distance,
as though love might be near—

as near
as a single cupped tear of resilient dew
or a long-awaited face.

Published by Romantics Quarterly, Poetry Magazine, Boston Poetry Magazine, Triplopia, Shadows Ink, E Mobius Pi, Underground Poets, Emotions Literary Magazine, Grassroots Poetry, Poetry Webring, Poetically Speaking, The Poetic Muse, Poet’s Haven, Poetic Voices, Nutty Stories (South Africa) and Gostinaya (in a Russian translation by Yelena Dubrovin)

Keywords/Tags: Love, face, recognition, water, silence, quietude, quiet, turbulence, clouds, pavilions, moon, white, pale, stricken, ******, water, wake
Atlas Feb 2020

She is turbulent
And tumultuous

She is stormy
And chaotic

And I was wrong
To think I would

Be the one thing
She wouldn't destroy

She is turbulence

Infinity Apr 2019
I had the sunshine
The calm, the serenity
Of loose waves caressing the ocean shore
Of sweet sunshine bathing the world in golden joy
Of perfect winds, keeping the temperatures just right
I had it all
But now i find myself morphing back into what I used to be
The sunshine gives way to dark starry nights
The stars shine and glisten, always just out of reach
The waves are turbulent on the shore, crashing, thrashing, threatening those that come near
The winds are both silent and deadly in their hostile unpredictability
Oh sweet serenity, where have you gone?
I was glad when I found you
Now I’m all alone
The turbulence is back, it creeps in at the dead of night
When darkness takes more than just the morning light
Dear calm collected control
I’m holding onto you with the tips of my fingernails
Holding onto you with careful lies I tell myself, to keep going
I tell myself you’ll come back soon
That its just the effects of the day or the moon
But I feel it stirring now
The baseless anxiety
The unquestionable sadness that lingers in the back of my mind, at no thoughts in particular
The lack of thoughts and the sheer volume of them stuns me into paralysis
I am motionless as I attempt to move
I am confused
As I think ten steps ahead, while moving 3 steps back, I wonder, what have I done wrong?
I wonder, why has the sunshine gone
Bernice Helena Feb 2019
It's certainly not a fond habit of mine,
But there comes an inevitable time
To redefine the value of every borderline.

Pick apart the pretty pieces
And unfold all their concealing creases;

Can the paling be restored with mere polish?

Our decorous veneer has run dry,
So I'll bid you one final frivolous goodbye.

Albeit I must sincerely confess:
They were never the best,
Ergo it hurt less.
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