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#turbulence
As I lay you to rest, a solemn melody surrounds the earth. Brisk finality soothed but aches linger, a damaged inner worth. I remember that day vividly, you know; the start of it all. Misfolded strands of rope entangled my core and drew me in; A devil's whisper to seal the shackles. A sweet serenade gave solace through disillusioned Autumnal gloom. A spicy ballad through the boreal frigidity. A bitter lullaby from May, to send you on your way. I had wished to match your tempest. Now, I pray for it to rest. Choked gasps wracked with guilt betrothed those moments in one fell swoop - A shallow husk, spited by a Storm. From that moment onward, echoed murmurs of silence burned with a somber vigor. Emblazoned with ferrous resolve - a catalytic trigger. Now all that's left is to bask in incremented remedy, to tend the cracks of your vexatious symphony.
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Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 7:42 PM UTC
Vexatious Symphony
Stories swirl free Memory fantasy dream Constellating stars Blurring transposing like art Lonely snowflakes weep, Wishes for gifts meant to keep
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Sep 9, 2021
Sep 9, 2021 at 8:08 PM UTC
Snow Globe
I swallow your words And begin to mellow out. Turbulence in my bloodstream, Yet static numbness all throughout. An accent laced with malice, By a tongue that knew no sympathy. You graced me with the fortunes Of love's complex simplicities. Love baffles. Love hurts. Trivial hearts.
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Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 6:11 AM UTC
I swallow your words
when the flowers started to bloom they withered all of them — in my mind, at least for the eye it is pleasing i do not feel this ease the wind does not calm me it acts more like the turbulence of my emotions weighing me down to earth.
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Aug 26, 2020
Aug 26, 2020 at 1:37 PM UTC
untitled iii
Still, I'm in the eyewall, Still fighting, All the turbulence of harsh winds, But, with every drop of strength left within, I trek forward, step after step, Hoping that one day, I'll reach the eye of this storm
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Jul 12, 2020
Jul 12, 2020 at 1:42 AM UTC
Eye of the Storm
The shattered tree's remains now frame the path from which it came, dampened in the warm, evening rain, guiding the lonesome to self-blame. Desperately, its pleading begins, hopelessly yearning for soul sustenance. It finds solace in expressing its pain, and all those near fear its immense strain. Its earthen skin groans, bearing cracks in its bones, weary cries now silent, yet its strength has overgrown. In its roots, it takes hold to reconcile what it’s forsaking, an effort painful, uncontrolled, as it gives what it can't be retaking. Its eyes are now dulled where they once had a glow, pathetic reflections unfold in the place of its soul. And smoke swirls in the cavity where the flames once warmed, replaced by fiery, stinging swarms, creating turmoil in its depravity. Wounds young and sweltry, the blood flow sustains, no vestige of remedy, enduring the pain. Like a mangled, broken ship at sea into terrorizing waves of atrophy, embracing water, drowning, sinking, it helplessly flounders. Never ceasing, waves increasing breath releasing, mind's eye teasing. Waters rise, anticipating, whispered cries, suffocating, painfully asphyxiating... It lets go, floats towards the coursing, waving, crashing surface, aching for air. Choppy waters, throwing, forcing to and fro, it fiercely presses on and hears the thunder. Lightning cracks through air and sky, the bright light lingers in its eyes, the thunder mutes all other sounds, its inner storm seems to subside. The thunder rolls to the horizon, and the rain lifts to gentle patters, the mangled, tattered tree has softened, what once ravaged no longer matters. Peace within and peace without, forgiveness given, boundless grace. Its world is light and free again, though it knows there's more it has to face. For now, a lightness' been endowed, it dances with joy and loves out loud. It knows the storms will always come, but through them all, who it'll become is worth the ravaged, aching pain, and comes out stronger, wiser, and changed.
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Apr 13, 2020
Apr 13, 2020 at 3:55 PM UTC
The Tree
The shattered tree's remains now frame the path from which it came, dampened in the warm, evening rain, guiding the lonesome to self-blame. Desperately, its pleading begins, hopelessly yearning for soul sustenance. It finds solace in expressing its pain, and all those near fear its immense strain. Its earthen skin groans, bearing cracks in its bones, weary cries now silent, yet its strength has overgrown. In its roots, it takes hold to reconcile what it’s forsaking, an effort painful, uncontrolled, as it gives what it can't be retaking. Its eyes are now dulled where they once had a glow, pathetic reflections unfold in the place of its soul. And smoke swirls in the cavity where the flames once warmed, replaced by fiery, stinging swarms, creating turmoil in its depravity. Wounds young and sweltry, the blood flow sustains, no vestige of remedy, enduring the pain. Like a mangled, broken ship at sea into terrorizing waves of atrophy, embracing water, drowning, sinking, it helplessly flounders. Never ceasing, waves increasing breath releasing, mind's eye teasing. Waters rise, anticipating, whispered cries, suffocating, painfully asphyxiating... It lets go, floats towards the coursing, waving, crashing surface, aching for air. Choppy waters, throwing, forcing to and fro, it fiercely presses on and hears the thunder. Lightning cracks through air and sky, the bright light lingers in its eyes, the thunder mutes all other sounds, its inner storm seems to subside. The thunder rolls to the horizon, and the rain lifts to gentle patters, the mangled, tattered tree has softened, what once ravaged no longer matters. Peace within and peace without, forgiveness given, boundless grace. Its world is light and free again, though it knows there's more it has to face. For now, a lightness' been endowed, it dances with joy and loves out loud. It knows the storms will always come, but through them all, who it'll become is worth the ravaged, aching pain, and comes out stronger, wiser, and changed.
Continue reading...
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The Peripheries of Love by Michael R. Burch Through waning afternoons we glide the watery peripheries of love. A silence, a quietude falls. Above us—the darkening pavilions of clouds. Below us—rough pebbles slowly worn smooth grate in the gentle turbulence of yesterday’s forgotten rains. Later, the moon like a ****** lifts her stricken white face and the waters rise toward some unfathomable shore. We sway gently in the wake of what stirs beneath us, yet leaves us unmoved ... curiously motionless, as though twilight might blur the effects of proximity and distance, as though love might be near— as near as a single cupped tear of resilient dew or a long-awaited face. Published by Romantics Quarterly, Poetry Magazine, Boston Poetry Magazine, Triplopia, Shadows Ink, E Mobius Pi, Underground Poets, Emotions Literary Magazine, Grassroots Poetry, Poetry Webring, Poetically Speaking, The Poetic Muse, Poet’s Haven, Poetic Voices, Nutty Stories (South Africa) and Gostinaya (in a Russian translation by Yelena Dubrovin) Keywords/Tags: Love, face, recognition, water, silence, quietude, quiet, turbulence, clouds, pavilions, moon, white, pale, stricken, ****** water, wake
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Mar 19, 2020
Mar 19, 2020 at 2:37 AM UTC
The Peripheries of Love
_____________________ _ She is turbulent And tumultuous She is stormy And chaotic And I was wrong To think I would Be the one thing She wouldn't destroy She is turbulence _ _____________________
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Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 9:39 PM UTC
Turbulence
I had the sunshine The calm, the serenity Of loose waves caressing the ocean shore Of sweet sunshine bathing the world in golden joy Of perfect winds, keeping the temperatures just right I had it all But now i find myself morphing back into what I used to be The sunshine gives way to dark starry nights The stars shine and glisten, always just out of reach The waves are turbulent on the shore, crashing, thrashing, threatening those that come near The winds are both silent and deadly in their hostile unpredictability Oh sweet serenity, where have you gone? I was glad when I found you Now I’m all alone The turbulence is back, it creeps in at the dead of night When darkness takes more than just the morning light Dear calm collected control I’m holding onto you with the tips of my fingernails Holding onto you with careful lies I tell myself, to keep going I tell myself you’ll come back soon That its just the effects of the day or the moon But I feel it stirring now The baseless anxiety The unquestionable sadness that lingers in the back of my mind, at no thoughts in particular The lack of thoughts and the sheer volume of them stuns me into paralysis I am motionless as I attempt to move I am confused As I think ten steps ahead, while moving 3 steps back, I wonder, what have I done wrong? I wonder, why has the sunshine gone
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Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 6:04 AM UTC
Moods
It's certainly not a fond habit of mine, But there comes an inevitable time To redefine the value of every borderline. Pick apart the pretty pieces And unfold all their concealing creases; Can the paling be restored with mere polish? Our decorous veneer has run dry, So I'll bid you one final frivolous goodbye. Albeit I must sincerely confess: They were never the best, Ergo it hurt less.
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Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 11:26 PM UTC
Spring Cleaning
*** *** ~ Drowning in anxiety Mocked by insecurity Seas black, cold and slimy Inkpot has dried The paper turns to dust All alone Lost at sea Nothing but a joke. ~ *** ***
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Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 2:06 PM UTC
Lost at Sea
Every bit of turbulence we hit I hope to go down.
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Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
Turbulence
*stars silently     enveloped      turbulent seas, gingerly dappling    each current, whence the tides    were stilled 'til they ebbed     'tween streams         of serene             spring waters,       rushing its           banks in              cascades of                 tranquil                      awed hushes                          overflowing                                 midst                                    surrender's                                                    quietude*
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Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC
Tranquility's Awed Hush
The walls came tumbling down, as if a wrecking ball had broken up that brick and mortar displacing it, from its position. Really the crack formulated several years ago, and in honest truth was no bigger than hair. Ah, but this crack was placed within the foundation, and as you walked away so did its disposition.
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Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
Hairline Fractures