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Mazikeen Sep 2020
Post traumatic, I can still feel the panic
Attacks in my visions, contained in my attic
Constant pressure, can't control my intentions
How can I be so impatient?
Losing the base of my basement.
I cannot breathe under water
The heavy weights dragging further
Should I still hope for the better
After all that has happened?
Look at the damage I've caused
I'm making everything worse
This dark force is taking over, I'm lost
I miss the person I was.
I hear you...
Maria Etre Sep 2020
I played with all the tenses
but that also never changed what
was
is
could have been
or
will be
Rashmi Sep 2020
Standing in front of the mirror,
I always try to look sober,
When precisely I'm losing my consciousness,
Only the mirror knows.
I feel my surrounding falling apart,
When I start looking into my eyes.
I saw a child, as the tears start rolling down!
A smile she gave and shattered my dreadful memories.
She is the one who adheres to my thoughts,
Looking back to myself makes me frightened more.
I'm standing in front of the mirror,
Just wiping the tears slipped from the shore.
Nostalgic feeling
kier Sep 2020
if I write
could I ever turn the scribbled thoughts
the pitiful teardrops
and stress that festers
into something beautiful
lovable, almost.
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2020
Writers are
The flexible species

If they want
They can conclude
"You"
Into haiku
And explain
"You"
As an epic
Genre: Observational
Theme: Writing is being
Susy Kamber Sep 2020
Writers choose pens that are inked with words.
The color of ink might be a peach colored verb.
The adverb joins in with a red that is flashy.
The prose is beginning to read somewhat ******.
The noun is thinking to mellow this down,
But the writer wants more from what has been found.
An adjective presents with its green colored hue.
Then gold trickles in making the vivid story true.
Yes, writers choose pens and words choose colors.
Stories then written,
For us and for others.
https://www.susykamber.com/
Ekphrastic Poetry Explores Art
artisticAR Sep 2020
What will I find beyond this gate?
Once opened, can I catch enough love to seal my fate?
Could the water fill up my empty heart
and lead me straight to the part
where I say
I've found
home
                                   -amp
riley minteer Sep 2020
shoehorn, white poppies
pockets all full of teeth
within one white whisper i swallow the key
too many pieces of pearlescent cutlery,
millions of tormented gnashing the air...

what is the culture's accepted state of satire?
what is the current world's state of affairs?
i think to myself, pondering like a child
for if i just knew i could laugh at my fears...

now i sit,
yes, i sit- in my cold echo chamber
sonic reflections, electronic lies
all my past memories calcified slowly
my skeletons lie in the back of my mind...
-riley minteer
“shoehorn”
(from “candlelight, rust & shells”)
Thursday, September 3, 2020
artisticAR Sep 2020
If you travel outside of your boundaries
there is magnificent place called World
Some corners are show-offs
While others are quite preserved
with its obscure beauty
making lasting memories
.....amp
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