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Zelyn May 2020
Ang nadarama'y isusulat,
Gamit ang aking plumang tanging panulat,
Sa bawat pagguhit ng letra,
kailanma'y hindi na magtataka pa,
ang pagsabay ng luhang pumapatak,
sapagkat ang puso'y may lungkot at galak.
Ang tangi lamang mithiin,
ay madama mo rin,
ang mga tulang isusulat na sa aking puso nanggaling.
Tagalog poem time 💜
kiran goswami May 2020
He says he loves me.
But of all the poems he wrote,
none had me.
tmartin May 2020
like a cat
i’m waiting for my owner
in my case, more gropes.
i am vain
i regularly conjure up poetry on my skin
do not give me yours.
i will recite every word to my last paper breath
so i can kid myself that paper is power.
my hands, are a canvas
canvas for anyone's ***** thoughts and ***** details
for if enough titles are painted on my body then perhaps
i will learn the complex trick
at trick of gaining depth.
and maybe the world will look as full.
as full and real as i
attest about it
read about it
dream about it
vision about it in books,
or dance with in music,
and maybe perhaps my edges will stop being ripped;
or my corners cut
or maybe my pages will not be burned and tossed aside.
true;
sometimes, i am this tiny
sometimes, i am this entangled
sometimes, i am this bonded
vulnerable, and judged by many
but also sometimes i am full of wonder

but right now, i am this.


|  i am paper and no wonder i like words |
Excerpts from [Desperate Acts by tma_rtin]
Rain slowly seeps into my soul
Gathering gently at my pores
Slowly wandering, searching
for any life of creativity
A blank canvas awaiting a
stroke of color
Coloring out of bounds
No Lines, boarders,
or limitations
With only the power of a
pen. Control is given over
Free falling endlessly
repeatedly
No longer the beholder

-A Black Girl Untold
Shamela Yousuff May 2020
When I cry,
She’s never confused
When I am sick ,
She feels the pain more than I do
When I think of giving up
She teaches me what life lies ahead
Is there something I can do
to bring a smile on her face
because she means the world to me
Mother, the definition of everything. Sometimes we regret for not showing our love and gratitude to our dear mom. So make use of this opportunity (that is now) to show how blessed you are to have such a wonderful person in your life.
From the book: 'Beautiful She Was'.
archana May 2020
a drowning depth of your
cobalt coloured eyes. I stand
stumped.
an abyssopelagic. lost in a delusion,
where we promise to
meet in our frayed, paper-thin clouded
dreams.
the moon-glade, bouncing off your
translucent pale skin, I watch
the reflections of the weeds withering.
your eyes, containing the ineffable
oceans. a shade of
verdigris. a blueish, green colour.
holding sparks of doom.
incandescence filled despair. how can
shadowy sadness be sparkly?
you laugh. and it reminds me of the
sounds the waves make, to each other,
before they lash onto my toes
on a windy twilight.
a hold on a fiery disposition. yet,
a conceding decision. to tie my
dancing, paint tinted fingers, to remain
your caged bird of possession;
a sigh escapes my lips. stuck in an endless loophole,
a luminous filled deception.
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