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bloodKl0tz Oct 15
1.  Headlights glowed like cigarette ends in the twilight

2. As soon as they winked out in the warm, weedy field, and the harsh engine noise snapped into silence, I began to cry.

3. Father stepped quietly towards me and I sniffed as I smelled the earth I was digging, the sweat I was dripping, the carcasses I was covering.

4.  Beneath the distant moon Father paused, watching me sift dirt over the remains of two limp goldfish.

5. The morbid scene glittered as moonlight sparkled off my tears and the half-buried scaled.

6.  A small tribute to their salty home.

7.  As if on cue, the wind ruffled the tops of the grain in the neighboring unshorn field; the undulating stalks mimicked the ocean.

8.  Their grave remains unmarked.
Written for Creative Writing class in 2008, the exercise was called Syntactic Gymnastics.
Norman Crane Oct 6
riverside dusk
      daylight's pale remains
a sanctuary
IdkLove Oct 5
My love stay with me near or far 
Drink a glass of wine with me
When dawn appears 
We collide with each other
With our bodies under the sheets
Can't wait 
For you to be on mine in every twilight
annh Sep 23
12
•                               •

•                                                 •
|
9         «———  >§<  ———»         3

•                                                 •

•                               •
6


“Struck is the hour from its ivory tower,
At sixes and sevens, the stars in their heavens,

As minute hands dance at twilight's advance,
To the cadence of time, the archangel’s chime;

Listen closely for me at a quarter to thee,
‘Twixt the tick and the tock of grandpapa’s clock,

Unquicken thine pace, for run is the race,
Hear the pendulum lock, ziccoty, diccoty, dock.

‘There was a sudden stillness like the gap between ticks on a clock, but the next tick never coming.’
- Sadie Jones, The Outcast
Dangling in a thread between darkness and light...

(The heart watches over it's fading memories... )

Drifting clouds play hide and seek in the garden of the crimson sky...

And the shadows wear garments to dance to the melody of the night...

(My mind still juggles the questions to answers and answers to questions it once could not fathom...)

Blackbirds circle the air promising to come back the other day...

The crickets prepare for night gala and the fireflies blow their torches to make less some darkness...

(The spirit inside of me bores over boulevard of the past and future that are a hue of ***** grey)

The setting sun begs me to stop itself from moving away...

And yet...

(My silent unsettling soul ends up settling itself to the impositions of twilight!)
I find something unusual about the twilight hours... Even though the atmosphere is one of beauty... But still it brings me back old memories, deep thoughts, and gloomy feelings...!
Thank you everyone for reading this! :) ❣
The moon obscured by twilight fog
   is like a sentinel,
   guarding the acrid smell
   of the veneer of doing well,
     when really, deep down
   I feel like hell.

The deepest corners of my heart conceal
   a darkness
     and a confusion
       more real than real.
   I feel like I myself want to steal
     my whole life's foundation
       and take it far away from me.

Like the moon obscured by the fog
   I want to be free in the rain
   to run again
   to feel the same
   as when I played that game
     of life
     and of love
   but the moon's obscured by a fog
     from above.

If only I could see that light
   reflected through the cloud.
I yearn to feel how bright
   that moon tonight
     calls silently,
   but is yet so loud.

The weights and forces balanced on my mind
   are like a shard of possible time,
   slicing like the punchiest rhyme,
   and frequently taking my breath away
     like a thing sublime.
It seems I cannot help but stop
   to pause,
     to think.
Whenever there's a drip of beauty,
   I drink,
     even in the slog of cloudy days
   I'm right on the brink.
     It's the kind of thing that you may communicate
   with a wink,
       but that would never be enough.
Not even the poet's last lines
   drafted with enchanted ink
     could capture this feeling.

I stare up at the moon,
   her bright eyes obscured
       by a fog.
should be recited in a spoken word style, the indentation suggesting some of the connections between lines
reyftamayo Aug 16
Pabulusok na ang ginintuang hari
sa dulong kanluran.
rumuronda na ang mga paniki,
nakadapo na ang mga ibon.
tumitili ang mga kuliglig
kasabay ng walang patid na
sagutan ng mga palaka.
ang mga butiki naman ay
humahalik na sa lupa.
malamig na hangin
ang madaramang sumisipol sa pandinig
at pumupukol ng mumunting alikabok
upang ipaalam
ang malambing nitong dampi.
maya-maya lang ay sisibol na
ang nagkikintabang kurap
ng mga mumunting kulisap
sa kalangitan
upang ito'y ilawan hanggang umaga.
Jenish Aug 4
twilight in delight
move with sun or stay with moon -
blushed sky painting red
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