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annh Sep 24
Outta whack,
Outta sync,
Wanna write,
Can't think.

Words dance,
Outta time,
Bad rhyme.

Lines smash,
Commas fight,
Vowels heave,
Rhythm's *****.

Verses clatter,
Phrases crunch,
****** muse's
Gonta lunch.

Gotta write,
Gotta pen,
Words'll come,
Dunno when.

Day's boshed,
Outta sight,
Gonna bed,
Good night!
‘Nonsense wakes up the brain cells. ...If you can see things out of whack, then you can see how things can be in whack.’
- Dr Suess
annh Sep 8
This morning I awoke with a cluster of words resting in the palm of my hand, my fingers tracing their gentle form like the decades of a rosary. On the tip of my tongue a song, a story, a fable of experience, existence, and eternity lay dozing.

There I floated between my inner and outer worlds, an exquisite confluence of wakeful consciousness and drowsy carelessness, until daybreak shook the last of sleep from my tousled dreams and my verses disintegrated like dust into the ether. It was at that moment, when the cool breeze through the open window intervened and the thrum of traffic in the distance drew me out from beyond the covers, that I lost my poem.

I know it will return: as droplets of rain on window glass, or as threads of loose cotton on a frayed cushion cover, in the rhythm of a lazy Sunday afternoon, or in the sigh of the ocean’s flow. All of these are mesmerising in their effect, some intangibly soulful, others enticingly tactile. All are enough to quiet the chatter of the quotidian mind and allow the delicate operations of the creative imagination to reign.

Only then, will I attempt to commit my words to paper...and you shall read them here.

Where do all the lost words go? Do they know their way home? Do they come with contact details attached? If not, does that mean they get confused and end up inside someone else’s head? Did I post your poem my mistake? Did you post mine?
Seanathon Sep 1
We love the night
Because she holds no secret stars
Or fears no moonlit falling out
Open Skies - An honest series
Zia Aug 24
You want me
to be the me
when we first met
Don’t you know
that she is now dead?
I buried her
as soon as
you killed her
And listen
You know what?
What you are to me?

You live inside
My world
Far beyond
With heavenly grace
In all shades and hues
And flow naturally
Tracing a way
As the verses
Birthing life

Thanks for being
If i have not said?
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Sculpting the thought
Seanathon Aug 22
Inside every tree
Once grown, is a seed of life
And death yet to be
Tuesday 12 - How we all have the potential to live and die ... YUP.
Zia Aug 19
Not that I can’t
but I simply won’t
until you can
then I shall...
Zia Jul 20
in my mind we looked good together
in my heart we felt right for each other
but fate showed me i didn’t know better
that i needed that chapter to get stronger
for what would come for me would be greater
Zia Jul 16
You took my trust
smashed it to dust
You fed me lies
with brazen eyes
You took my heart
then ripped it apart
You bore a hole
into my soul
Should I continue?
Or is it enough for you too?
Zia Jul 13
The sun shines brighter
when we are together

The stars look sharper
when my head rests
on your shoulder

The rain falls slower
when, skin to skin,
we touch each other

I smile wider
knowing there’s no other

but then I remember
how oft you falter
what’s on your mind?
I wonder
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