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cat Mar 15
i wished to be whimsical
but my words remained bitter
a cold, guttural stinging
to be everything was to dream
to have something to prove
to love and be loved
i still cannot tell whether or not
it is greater to live in the fantasy
to wake and lift into your mind
to blur your vision, finding any reason
any reason by any means
to wake at all
is it better for one to wake if everyday
they have to envision candy-canes
as the railing on their staircase
if they insist on their futures
or pray to their God
"Don't let me suffer"
is it better for one to wake if everyday
they dye their hair a new colour
just to stop thinking of how they will rot
and how it will smell
and how long it will take
to completely crumble
so deep into the soil that the bone dissolves
do these thoughts make people "open"?
knowledgeable?
sentimental?
wise?
even if, every morning, it may as well nearly cost them their lives?
how severely should truth be praised?
do not medicate me for i can alter my vision
if it takes a fantasy to let me be real
then god bathe and drown me
in the worst of whimsicalities
lucie Mar 4
I refuse to admit I am constant,
like a mother’s love toward her child. There
are forests I have not seen, and will never.
For now, their leaves lay idle.

I am but wavering, unchained. In these
forests you will find me. I am large,
not in that I don’t fit your ex’s clothes but
that I contain mountains inside me.

I am black raspberries, red blackberries
and in time, the harvest will come. In
November dusk with songbird choir,
like a mother’s gentle hum.
A dream you can't capture,
A thirst you can't quench.
A time you can't hold,
A bus you couldn't catch.
A book which you wished it never ended,
A rain which you wished to be everlasting.
A sensation you cannot fully relish,
An infatuation so unfathomable!
A moment worth a thousand universe!

'Wish I could seize them all!
But where's beauty in that!
For I choose to live as a bruised man
Rather than a soulless god!
This poem makes you nostalgic and drooling over the wonderful memories of the past and makes you feel the pain of them not living again but with a smile put up at the end which will last more if one really uncovers all layers and discovers the meaning within.
lucie Feb 17
i.
he smells like summer tastes—
a bowl of fresh raspberries
left warm on the windowsill
orange peels on the floor
Arianna Jan 31
Trams scutter by:
The Urban Centipede
      A......C.....C....O..R..D....I.....O......N
Orche­stra.
I get anxious about navigating public transit in foreign countries. For some reason, the trams look like giant bugs to me, kind of like in this bizarre (but good) film called "***** Lunch"...
chichee Jan 31
You said you needed an extra pair of hands
                                    so I took mine off and
gave them to you.
The sun set in my glass,            darling-
                                   can't you hear that?
         coo-ee, coo-ee
                    oh the cockatoos
are jabbering philosophy again.
                                                          ­Sweet-talker,
I want to push my fingers into your mouth,
                                  swirl it in all the      honey in there.
                                                          ­    My hands on the clock
pointing at quarter past five,
                         birds swing up into the air like
                    the half-beat of a pendulum
                                                        ­      lungs filling up with water-
we're all romantic fools here.
                     Sometimes I think of time         as fluid
tick tock tick tock
                my glass dripping into
                                           yours.
                                                          ­We're all running dry,
quickly, before the night ends-
                                 ask me to         dive off
the edge of the world                
                                           ­        with you.
Took me ages to title this. Not as sad as what I usually go for.
Midge Jan 20
memories
full of wonder
and light
filled my mind
and sense of sight
those were
the dreams
in my imagination
a whole new world
in another dimension
completely random
Nicky Dec 2018
You came to me late, one night in a dream
A magical memory with a whimsical theme
I heard your voice, a distinguished sound
Your energy and protection, I could feel all around

Your strength and knowledge will forever shine through
But on this plane, I'll no longer see you
You're part of me and in my mind you'll love on
So hard for me to accept that you're gone

I try to keep you with me in a pendant on a chain
It allows me comfort like the sunshine through the rain
And when I get scared I hold it in my palm
You tell me 'keep going, I'm proud of you, stay calm'

Your heart, it was so big, it gave so much
So many broken people softened by it's touch
I hope I see you again, one night in a dream
A magical memory with a whimsical theme....
chichee Nov 2018
Baby let's go
                           tipsy-toed
               Skinny dipping in
         disco lights.
    Drunken mouth in
                              worship,
            you call my body             Jerusalem
till I'm        
spluttering up
                             pool water.


    The ceiling spins
                                 a salsa,
the fridge exhales something
                               obscene when it opens
and the furniture
                         blushes
          I'm jealous of the
                                   love story
                    in my home.


We roll around in
                       bolognese
     I slurp the      happy
            out of
                     your mouth.
                                     Saucy smirks.
Oh keeper of my heart,
                             I chain myself to
your smile and
                              swallow the
                                                 key.
Something whimsical to pass the time
Anya Nov 2018
Happy, warm, safe
In my couch
Borrowing
Deeper
Into soft
Fluffy
     Floating
          Rather
On
  A
   Cloud
Quite      nice
     No obligations
Just
    Flight
My mind         drifts                        away
And my body,
An
    Empty
         Vessel
This poem was purely motivated by feelings, no specific intentions behind it.
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