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the river overflows down to the sea,      
a wintry song to tame the reveled night,
and born of love the stars blaze ever bright,
with soft-ringed beams that sigh like poetry.
dark woven hour, how you inspire me,
the midnight gleams with pools of paean light,
the drowsy moon is shining filmy-white,
the woodlands shrink and dream of sanctuary.
arise on arching wings, oh, song once sung,  
oh, water sprite, oh, lily of the vale,
you pine for love, the forest weaves a spell,
unearthly voice of honey throat and tongue
  i hear you whisper, sing your wild, wild tale,      
  then bid the world goodbye and sweet farewell.
Sharon Talbot Jun 2023
California Kids

I’ll call you up on Saturday
And invite you over.
Take the 101, 110 and 1;
(Sounds like an equation!)
And you’re there.
Just use your GPS..
There’ll be a party at my house,
Daft Punk playing on the Echo.
It’ll be epic, Echoic!
With some vintage’ tunes,
Crankin’ the Beach Boys,
Watching surfers
Shredding out-the-back,
Past prowling sharks in the shallows.
Lets go to the dunes and maybe kiss.
I know that you miss me,
So don’t ask me why
And when you come,
I won’t ask
“What are you doing here?”
We’ll eat fish tacos,
Guacamole, Pico de Gallo
And drink margaritas
While we debate French new wave,
I’ll praise Truffaut while you
Tell me that Scorsese is the man.
When we get drunk enough
I will suggest a walk
Along the iridescent surf.
You should say yes because
I’m safe now that I drive electric,
That I turned vegan
(sorry about the fish)
and wear cruelty-free clothes.
I don’t grill snapper anymore
And take my shoes off inside the door.
Maybe we’ll make it to Tower 28,
Lay down and watch the full moon
Like Jim Morrison did to write.
I’ll tell you I’m glad you’re alive—
I’m no poet, but you know that.
This was inspired by the joyous, freewheeling song by Weezer and the SNL skit about the Californians. I sort of envy them!
Louise May 2022
While I return and slow down
to the classics;
the film analog cameras,
vinyl records,
silent movies,
worn-out pocketbooks,
and other novelties
of the old world charm...

I also enjoy the convenience
of the contemporary;
my phone's one-click camera,
spotify premium,
notes app,
and other niceties
that the here and now has to offer...

And while I rev back
to the retro and vintage,
I also race forward
to the excitement and danger
brought about by the internet,
of chatting with a familiar stranger.
of exchanging laughters in electronic.
of feeling emotions from a vague, distant, technical, difficult source.

Oh, the thrill and tragedy of technology!
New age romance
shilha madhuri Jan 2022
Sandoval Dec 2021
I was an infant soul.

He came to me in my dreams
as a lullaby only I could sing.

And he watched as I swiftly
rocked myself into a romance

only him and I could sway to.

To C.
long drive through summer nights
a ghostly salty smell nearby
a Polaroid of orion that your fingers trace
tears falling like a cascade on an uneven face

crinkles by your eyes are long gone
and your smile is only a memory stored
and you threw away your ring when you left the city
encaptured into a chrysalis of anonymity

new town, new place, unknown destination
sacrificed the name which your parents called you with proud once
in a state where your business is no one else's pain
and you're so grateful there's no familiar face

that's what's about running away
away from the hurt that left you astray
astray from the path that's your family's way
way into a place away from friends' solace

esther darling, I'm glad to see
your incandescent eyes in a serene epiphany
despite of the mediocrity
esther darling, this place was meant only for you to be.
follow the journey of a broken, but content lass as she loses her home but finds herself amidst the battles bestowed upon her.
Every time you read a poem,
it would be different than previous.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and add warmth into raw words of obvious.
A poem is a mystery to everyone,
filled with pain and desires.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and arrange the words before they expire.
A poem can make lifeless person feel alive,
but make the mind a horrific place.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and let words flow in their own space.
A poem could be difficult to understand,
because it possesses calm and clash.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and avoid words to turn into ash.
If poems would be written on the skin,
everything would bleed and shed.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and instead of vintage words turn red.
-Aishwarya Kulkarni
Big and black
The umbrellas
Knew not of any other size
And colours

A rainy day
Decades ago
I reckon

Men on foot
And bicycles, black
Peddling the tar road
Soaking wet

Their attire
Native, pure white
The photograph
Inspired by a photo
Sandoval Jan 2021
looked for
love in
closed lips;
being deaf
to all the
rest calling
her name.

Why do we always love what we can’t have?... #D
Rea Jan 2021
I think back to our first moments together.
Sneaking eyes under flower crowns and balloons.
Looking across crowds of people for you subconsciously,
noticing you noticing me noticing you.
To look back on that time tinges everything with a vintage haze,
like viewing the history before something monumental.
Each person holding their breath and each step bringing us closer
to everything.
I want to go back to the first time I asked myself "what if it's us?";
the first time I truly saw you for everything that you could grow to mean to me.
"I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day"

"I guess that's any relationship, you start with nothing and maybe end with everything"
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