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Sa Weol May Apr 2021
I pray for a lucid dream tonight,
In a sky colored carpet floor,
Seasoned with bluish tulips
on the ground,
In a pure white long dress,
decorated with pearls,
with happy people beside,
Seeing tall pine trees,
With a calming cloudy weather,
Bits of sunshine
that balances the mood of the setting,
Singing behind the white cottony curtain,
Someone's listening
and waiting for me,
Curtain opens,
Ended the song,
Take down the microphone,
I see someone from a bit distance,
A sudden music played,
That made everyones happy tears fell
and touched,
I walk towards where the man is,
Blurred, but as I go forth to him,
Little by little,
He is getting clearer
From afar, I know
That it is you,
Waiting,
At the end
Of the altar.


-A.M.
cassandra Apr 2021
your mind
like canvas
pure white
till you get hurt
and paint it
deep black
on white paper
the ink sheds itself,
destroys all voidness,
writing appears,
something is read,
after your death you send it,
to the living
to always be told
from generation to generation.
Indonesia, 14th April 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
Spriha Kant Apr 2021
On the muted music of the zephyr, the viridescent folks' dance and the fluffs veiled in white, sallow, and orange tinges glide in the mid-air. In this pristine swathe shield by a mysterious guard against intruders, there's no gravity to land from jovial vibrations.

© Spriha Kant
Brendann Apr 2021
The creaking boards, leading to the endless fog

The smell of salt

The crack of the waves, seem like a distant memory

The only noise comes from the boards and the birds

The smoke, white as snow, consumes me as I near the end of the peer



I could only stand and stare
I wrote this in 2019. It was really smokey from the forest fires and I took my motorcycle on a ride to the beach. I walked down the pier, sat down in the smoke, and wrote this. It was so peaceful.
Poetic T Apr 2021
I could never count stars
  as they were always shooting
point-blank at my forehead...

Hollow point dream killers,
   my eyes open pools of despair..

                       The night shone,
within the white pools,
   non-reflective reproductions of

desperation..

Every sheep that jumped over
that
       hedge...


Face hugging the granite of my
                dried up lake of sweet dreams..

I'm still awake....
kenz Mar 2021
White is completely empty
its nothing ...
yet it brightens up all the other colors
its makes a room feel bigger
Simon Piesse Mar 2021
The ***-bellied Mercedes squealed
As Meursault withdrew and
Marvelled at the flames
Licking
The air
Like marigolds on Ritilin.
'Raymond would have no reason not to admire this act.'
He stopped by a shimmering sea of Ubers.
The scrape and drawl of siren made no impression on him.
Leaking smoke reminded him of
Snow White’s Cottage
Where he had taken Marie when Lucie was born:
The place where he would go out at dawn to chop wood.
He liked the way her roses played
With the restlessness of children.
Then he thought: 'if only mother could see me now.'
Inspired by Camus' searing sense of injustice in The Stranger, which I'm studying with my class at the moment and by the riots in Bristol, UK
I want all things to be clear
I want them to be black or white
but to my dismay
all things are grey
I need a light to guide me, to show me the way
So nothing can pull me astray
Sometimes I don’t know where I am
Stuck in this thick grey jam
Then the light appears
And all the grey clears
The same thing happens again and again
I’m led astray
Then shown the way
It’s like my life is on replay
~17/3/21
Someone, please show me the way...
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