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Solar Aug 4
If I told you I died 5 times today,
would you believe me?

in the horizon there,
my passion hands on a weak branch
stained of copper.

so timeless is the upset of ruin,
feeding the crows who leave
their feathers upon me
making me black.
Sindi Apr 23
Dear eyes
You are lucky to have each other.
You complement each other plus you always see eye to eye.
You come in all shapes, sizes, colours.
Are you a reflection of the soul?

I like you when you twinkle.
I like it when you are real.
I like to make you real with a pencil and notepad.
I like you when you are present.
I like you when you are focused

When you are fixed on the goal.
Through you, I can dream.
Through you I see vanity.
Through you, deep secrets are confessed.

Dear eyes
You make scare me sometimes with TV and social media.
I don’t want to stare or to look away either.
Tell me dear eyes how do I unsee what I have seen?

I think you are life’s most beautiful gift.
Tell me dear eyes is all that you see real?
Is it true that you keep memories of an entire lifetime?
Right before someone dies you press relay?

I remember seeing you red and wondering why?
Then I was told that someone broke your heart.
I remember seeing you green and wondering why?
Then I was told that you saw something that made you envious.
I remember seeing you twinkle ad wonder why?
Then I was told that someone made your day
© Sindi Kalumba
rig Apr 20
pareidoliate me             all you want

                          but i don't believe in
                                              (              )
                                                          ­     (    )?
           _ __
TomDoubty Apr 18
Cow on grass
Settling rooks
Cross sky
All around
Sound playing
On wind
Gold leafing
The horizon
Veiling arc
And furrow
And shadow
Poplar lined
Fields below
Quiet here
A moment
Contrast sharpens
Trees recede
Into darkness
Sun bleeds
Into Earth
TomDoubty Apr 13
In deepening dream a dark moon song
Careening oration  to the reeling inside
of flickering film, burning fast celluloid
An internal tribute to a time now past

Adrift at dawn  the dervish swoops its
whirling and whining an awesome spectre
enraged she raps her raw knuckles
Pushing apart deepest self

Seeing in sleep the shadow of my daylight
That blinds me habitually; subliminally she
Speaks the script to a censored play
I’ve never seen.
rig Mar 6
underscore underscore
slash backslash slash backslash
backslash slash in three lines –
add a bunch of spaces,
make it yellow and send.
wonder why you did it.
worked for me in courier new
Parker Vance Feb 25
There are holes in my brain          and I shovel words to bury
                                       that emptiness

I look for laughter                                          that's not my own

I search my hometown graveyard
                     the spaces of your affection

I'm flipping through the oldest books
                     ******* in the autumn air;

I cannot find the thing                                                  I lost

There are holes in my brain but I kept you,

                    perhaps a different way of craving
Parker Vance Feb 13
I chore by woozy by smoking everything in sight
I chore by medicating and letting the sides affect me
crying at roadkill by owning taking up space not taking care

I burden by poetry by reading you poetry
talking too fast remembering too little
by walking alone     unsafe

I chore by panicking at white trucks and appetite suppressants I didn’t ask for
crying (always) at eight years at five years at 24 months
at the always that keeps shrinking away from me

Now I chore astoundingly
by decluttering by choring myself cleaning and painting and feeling alive alive alive!

Though touching is not a burden to you. Groping is not a burden.
No-chore kissing and hands on my ***
whenever and too much to be frank
give me my boundaries my no's

But you should know
I am not a burden a task to complete dead weight snag hitch knot Loving
me is not a chore.

I wrote in a poem once that you didn't understand about a no one that you saw as yourself.
I felt your beating heart then and knew you now it's true
I can't touch you but it's no matter.
Lyn-Purcell Jan 27

Mist rising from plants
Down the spiral staircase she skipped
The lunelight made flesh

Another mini haiku from my diary.
Not 100% either but I'll get there.
Please stay safe all! 💜🙏
Much love,
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