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A **** in my ribs,
It burns in an electric feel
unlike love.
Who kicked me in the chest?
The consistent prodding is nothing but
the opposite of what you advocate for.
How are you so blind?
How blindsided could one really be?
Not very.
Yet the wind has been taken from my sails,
and the humidity creeps in
to choke me.
John McCafferty Dec 2020
Creative minds shine through silent shadows
Freer thoughts run along the edges
Of boundary lines untied
Distracted less distressed
Confinement now a guest
In a safer space to play
Separate states arrange personal traits
To trust the chance of expectations
Enforce the plight of set objectives
Opportunities arise to compliment
Though every aim cannot be met
We suit our direction and intent
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Ileana Amara May 2020
no string is worth cutting
if you could thread through the knot carefully
without dismantling both endings.

IA
This is a short work that defies my previous poem "the untied knot". Centenarians who have managed to live and love in a lasting relationship left me a lesson that most people nowadays tend to give up easily. In the concept that when something is broken, it is now so easily replaced. People who truly love thread through things carefully, work through pain with grace. I'm not a veteran in these kind of things, but I think it's important to know that even in the tough times, pain teaches us to grow in adversity. However on the flip side, paradoxically, one should not allow themselves to forget their worth when they give their all. It's all a matter of moderation & balance. Here's something I'd like to impart:

moment of grace (n.)
the point where people are forced to make a decision that either enables them to transcend a circumstance or succumb to it.
Ileana Amara May 2020
some strings are cut
when there are no rational ends
to untie the knot.

IA
eleanor prince Dec 2018
look not beneath
scars
lest night scowl

for history
screamed
breaches unbidden

rivulets red streamed
as child song
failed

tendrils grasped
by savage gusts
discarded

to rise as scented spring
warmth
loosens coverlets

stirred
untied
waiting
would a tender, respectful approach let love bloom anew
do you wanna take a walk on me to see what things and what things could be?

I walk on the blind side of the inside men
hide from the mob,

got a job, workshy?
passing by and seeing no reason why to stop
I carry on and I carry on my shoulders the weight
of all the World.

Seemingly dreamy I dream on quite seamlessly
but am aware of my surroundings and grounded
in the arts.

Capital in the Capital City.

In the snow and sleet down at Threadneedle Street
the old lady counts up the coins in her purse,

not sure if it's bad but it certainly gets worse.

Defaults on the mortgage repayments
tonight we will sleep on the
pavements.

do you wanna have that talk with me and hear what things and what things could be?

— The End —