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Feel the fat rotation of the planet
throwing a little spring our way
to poke our amygdala
and rattle our dormancy

and sure, we know at the back of minds
a bare faced bait and switch is in play
which means our twitching fingers
will seek to put the big coats in the loft
only with dismay to find the grey frost
return to bite our ***** mid-March

but we can dream and show some ankle
can’t we?

We hold out for this spring
harder than a man who’s lost nine digits
to frostbite
so we can point to where it hurts,
be heard,
aware that we’re linked,
a swarm of warmer hands
that need to hold, to cling, to brace
against this lingering, malingering pain

We’re ready to emerge,
but only together
and while inclement, duplicitous weather
still rages
we’re better, sadly,
Diljeev Jan 6
And then I open my eyes
yet another misty morning,
half a year has passed by
but my heart is still yearning,
with the passing of each night
there's always a fairytale dream,
never will it make me vulnerable
even the bravest yearn,
silently we all make a wish
to the moonbeam
for nothing's ever enough.
It's hard to put into words
a dream that doesn't change,
just that it's always a different place
yet a part of it tends to stay,
from your tiny black eyelash
to the enormous warmth
of your being,
in the thick of it all is me
standing there looking at you
what else can I say,
And then I open my eyes
yet another misty morning,
half a year has passed by
but my heart is still yearning.

- diljeev
Anita Dec 2020
And then you woke up, you felt the soft drip of sweat on your furrowed brow. Trailing down your face in thin streams. Your clothes were soaked, and your bed lay damp. Your breathing was heavy as your forlorn gaze drifted off into the night sky.

And then you woke up, you felt the fright from a previous dream cling to your mind, dulling your senses. Cloaking your ears from all previous sounds that might’ve existed. Your hands lay there trembling, uncontrollable in every way, messy hair in all directions.

And as you lay there breathing, you woke up. The erratic thumping of your heart, beating loud into the night. A soft wail from your mouth, encircling the terrible symphony of despair. Grating thoughts, that never seem to go away. It won’t stop, it won't go away . . .

And then you woke up
You woke up
Blackenedfigs Dec 2020
It is fascinating to listen to the world wake up in the morning. It’s as though everything is still and frozen in time that even the birds are hesitant to start their morning songs. But then suddenly, as the first stretch of daylight crawls across the lines and rows of rooftop houses, you can hear the whole Earth start up in stages. First the signaling of the distant trains, their own morning song in a way I suppose. Then the rest of the neighborhood follows suit in a chorus. Car engines rattle on to melt the ice off their windshields and they too, groan and moan not yet ready for the daily grind. I picture people sipping their coffee while their kids quickly and hastily brush their teeth to make it to school on time. The buses stagger in lines to greet them at their doorsteps. One by one the birds unruffle their feathers in the treetops and begin to rise in song. The streets that just lay undisturbed moments ago, pristine with a thin layer of 4AM dew, are now bustling with car exhaust and scurrying street cats who are simply trying to get out of the way. And you in the midst of your tossing and turning murmur something in your sleep and I wish I could lie here forever.
A lesson in prose poetry.
Orakhal Oct 2020
as you wake to a dream
that's been sleeping
Nolan Willett Sep 2020
“Why do you daydream
All your waking time away?”
You have nerve to ask.
Nik Bland Sep 2020
Your voice was never mine in morning
You were a bird of later light
And you would smile
Each day
Each day
To say that you’re alright

You needed your coffee
To satiate your internal plight
As hungriness
Would sway
Would sway
Your mood ‘till your first bite

The crunch of butter covered toast
Your taste of the egg whites
You chose the yolks
To stay
To stay
Your breakfast at its height

You’d smile and say good morning
And there you were, my perfect wife
We’d go outside
Beach days
Or an afternoon hike

It’s been a month and you’ve gone now
I dream of you at night
I think of you
As tears I consistently fight

I sleep inside our bedroom
I still whisper to you “Sleep tight”
You went in your sleep
No pain
No pain
After fighting with all your might

Your voice was never mine in morning
But you were my sun, so bright
And I find I miss
Your grace
Your face
Amidst the morning light
Jamesb Aug 2020
Sunlight filtered
By trees that last night
Stood nearly silent guard
About us as we  broke
New ground,
Dapples the canvas
Of my tent

Daylight and day bird's chirrup
Would deny the mystery of what went before,
Gone the soft silence
Of the silver moon,

Perhaps too that which
May after all be but dream
Despite the delicious languor
In mine limbs and
Through my soul

I lay betwixt and between,
Half awake and
Half still clinging
To my dream when with
Movement not of mine
Tousled brunette over a shy and sleep creased smile
Says "hi"
I think many will identify with the underlying tenet of this one. That exquisite realisation that it wasn't a dream after all...
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