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Kalliope May 16
2v8
You and your romantic ways, your countless list of reasons, your lovely lilac haze
Shadowed only by your fears there's not a universe where I stay.

Battled me.

And all my disarray
The timing and the distance, my thoughts that force resistance.
My lack of patience sure put up a fight, and mix her with my temper and we'll be here all night.
My fear, always ready to run, pulling me back behind the wall I built, away from the warmth of your sun.
If we matched our armor, and coordinated our attack
Perhaps we could've been on the same side, instead of bleeding back to back


I know you hate that game mode
But I thought the chances were better
January May 13
Dear books,
I love the feeling I get when the series of sentences you hold make me feel understood in the perfect manner.
To be honest, I sometimes envy that those words didn't come out of me
but mostly?
I love you for carrying what I failed or never even tried to bring out of my mind.
I hope you realise your importance and how much you mean and how it brings comfort to me especially at times when I feel low, you're always there.
I'm sorry you have to wait on a coffee stain sometimes or even untouched under heavier books
but mostly I love you for always being there.
Love,
January
Nat Lipstadt May 6
how odd, how rare. eyes connect,
and the irrelevant falls away, so,
to the end of the beginning we go,
how odd, how rare, she tired of
players, gamers, inevitable disappointment,
so she assays his
approach, snd speaks first:

What are you after?

no hesitation no guising, no uncertainty, he states with surety,
product of grace added to sadness of series of serious accumulations of
disappointment,

"A shared understanding..."

Equals in their shocked surprise,
both stare, hard, then harder,
examining faces and rising heat,
suppressing the intriguing intensity,
imagining outcomes, not endings,
futures, not casualties, and the
assessing silence, not uncomforting,

indeed, the silence soothes, the
attraction stirring and they answer
the overhanging questioning answered simultaneously, with a
yes, a simple supposition, an agreed upon proposition, a mutuality
calming, and the ending of a
shared understanding...and the beginning of a who knows untold
possibilities
may 5/25
The sun no longer rises,
The earth has stilled beneath my feet;
Yet still I walk, and wait—for you.
The moon has vanished from the skies,
The wind no longer sings its tune,
But my heart, it won’t stop pounding.

Here and now, I make my vow:
I’ll run through fire, shatter bone,
Tear down cities, conquer thrones—
Yet never beg, nor plead, nor bind
Your soul to love that must be free.
Sliding of beads
So therapeutic
To see how this became that
What makes up the whole
                           Touch each fraction

No need for equation of form
To find value of one emotion
                               Against a known
Or
Tangents
Or
Ometries
When the only calculus of interest
                                    Is sum of self
Joss Lennox May 1
When the ravens came, they stole--
Took everything,
Cast it far away,  
Hid it beneath the grays.
Carelessly taunting,
While haunting their prey,
Alone in their bug infested,
Thrown together nests,
One learns to fend for themselves.
The days,
Relentless,
Faded into terror filled nights.
Standing on a dangling twig,
Risking one last breath,
Forever asking, "what's next?"
Then, He reached out His helpful hand,
With an unshakeable voice,
& sounding stance
Advising to,
Walk beyond their words,
Which fall like stones,
Into rivers you've passed,
Onto new rivers unknown.
a journey through trauma, survival and the courage to move forward through spiritual understanding and enlightenment.
Mariah Apr 29
I hate myself
But that's okay
I'll like myself better
Another day

I don't have to hope
I know
With me
That's just how it goes

Just like a stray
I won't always show my face

Give it time
I'll be fine

I know my ways
It always pays
To give me space
It's best to let me go-
at my own pace

I'll come back if it's right
If it's worth the fight

I know my wobbly heart
Would pick it apart
Trying to find the art

If it's worth it
It will hard

And maybe if I'm lucky
It might leave a you shaped scar
Savva Emanon Apr 28
In shadowed streets where silence weeps,
And echoes chase the feet of time,
A whisper hums where sorrow sleeps,
“Stay soft,” it sings, “though life may climb
Its thorn-wrought walls and break your skin,
Do not let hardness settle in.”

For pain may press with quiet might,
May twist the dawn into the night,
But you, dear soul, are not your ache,
Not every bruise, not every break.
You are the hush between the rain,
The breath that rises after pain.

So let it hurt. Let teardrops fall
Like silver bells down sorrow’s wall.
Let it swell and let it sting,
Grief is a wild, untamed thing.
But let it heal. The heart, it knows
How even shattered gardens grow.

And when the ache begins to fade,
Like fog dissolved by morning’s blade,
Let it go—release its hold,
The stories pain has tried to mold.
You are more than what you bear,
A flame still dancing through despair.

So rise, as mist that greets the sun,
As rivers do when thaw has come.
Rise soft, rise fierce, rise with your grace,
The world may harden—but not your face.
Smile with the soul that’s weathered through,
There’s still a bloom inside of you.
Copyright 2025 Savva Emanon ©
The Poets Loft is my new YouTube Channel.
https://www.youtube.com/@PoetsLoft
Who are heroes?
What is heroism?
I'm not sure,

We're at a scary lack of that,
Missing the true selfless values,
Of what we know it to be.

Today it's easy to stumble upon the self proclaimed,
What do they do it for?
For the clout, to move the graph,

Exponential gain.

But I know it's impossible to be pure,
After all, I've purged my heart,
More times than I ought to,

Bright places go dark faster than they should.

It may be consequence,
Of shooting holes in the flood-lights.
Though the sparking is just so entertaining,

Another simple pleasure destroyed by conventional good.
Evil hunts itself.
Sanama Apr 24
I stare into the ocean, my life reflected back, a mirror that reveals the path more clearly.
I carry my thread of existence, woven solely in the flame that holds my warmth.
I whisper to the waves— bring me life, bring me a thread of it.
We exist. But is existence the same as life?  We move, we breathe, but do we carry life, or is it merely a show of it? A thread of life—why seek it, if we already live? But perhaps living is more than surviving.
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