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9.9k · Nov 2014
somber fragrance
Therese G Nov 2014
Step into the train
as cherry blossoms kiss you
a fragrant goodbye.
4.7k · Dec 2014
fireworks on new year
Therese G Dec 2014
On this day
we are pierced
by the screams
of a new way
to undulate
across
the river
of life.
3.6k · Jan 2015
Bondage
Therese G Jan 2015
I am bound to you as you are bound to me.
Have we become what should never be?
Trapped in your heart as your are trapped in mine,
it goes on and on - the passage of time.

Close the door behind you and count to ten.
Think of me and open it again.
I am chained to you as you are chained to me.
Is this the way how everything should be?
3.5k · Jan 2015
Summer Daze
Therese G Jan 2015
Trapped at the crossroads
We are caught in the heat haze
bound to each other
A haiku inspired by the Japanese Vocaloid song "Kagerou Deizu/Heat Haze Days".
3.1k · Nov 2014
My Creative Thoughts
Therese G Nov 2014
You are caught in this jail of which
I have built for one such as you;
spiked handcuffs made of solid lines,
iron bars wrought with poetry.

You shall never elude me as
you are caught in this jail of which
that binds you to a sheet of white
with only barbwire, words, and prose.
2.0k · Apr 2015
Laundrywomen
Therese G Apr 2015
Bent over the stream
of laundrywomen drench
words that flitter to and fro,
rinsing and revising spoken prose
across whispered conversations

Fading away into the piercing gaze
of an endless summer’s haze
the laundrywomen have mastered
the art of washing the soul with only water
and well-meant poems as soap
as if it were the cloth in their hands
1.2k · May 2015
on family reunions
Therese G May 2015
Grandmother,

           Do not feed me with the scent of tomorrow - it has a certain pungency that I cannot stand. After all, I am still full with the taste of this bitter residue lurching in my stomach left by memory.
This is for all the grandchildren who have no choice but to simply EAT UP EVERYTHING YOUR RELATIVES (especially one's grandmother) SHOVE AT YOU, whether it may be an unpleasant opinion/truth or actual food.
917 · Aug 2015
a love-hate relationship
Therese G Aug 2015
Trees are in love with humanity.

they reach out to kiss our heads
with the tips of their browning leaves
while we like a vengeful lover
first kiss back with words
and then cut them down with blades

but someday we too will be cut
from life
and our concrete jungles
will fade into dust

only stumps remain.
Okay. So, I was thinking. What if the school makes me write a stupid poem about the environment right now? And I was like, nuh-uh I am in no way going to write something like "nature is so beautiful, we need it, we should preserve it" kind of crap (Well, this poem is still 50% crap anyway). So, I decided to write a not-so-bad poem about preserving the environment. Namely trees.
745 · Nov 2014
花火 - Hanabi
Therese G Nov 2014
A burst of color,
it is the flower of fire
painted in such gold
that scatters across the seas
leaving memories of sparks.
花火 hanabi - Japanese for 'fireworks'
681 · Nov 2014
fakery of the fallen
Therese G Nov 2014
In a cold universe of stars,
I am just one of them, ever bright
However, I am born to lose my light
and crash through the dome of somber skies
darkened by the star's perennial lie:
*they have already gone silent.
562 · May 2015
Transferee Issue #1
Therese G May 2015
I find myself
getting lost
within the concrete
that is cold and cold
resigned to white walls
while the worth of my words
are measured
in glass flasks
there is no soul here after all  
and I will soon grow
used to the blank stares
of mirrors
the hardness
of science

this time memories
of the sky
will not save me at all
from such a fate
This was the first poem I wrote as my reaction having transferred from an arts high school to a ******* science school.
409 · Jan 2015
Loss
Therese G Jan 2015
In the garden I knelt as a young boy,
with dirt-caked nails that dug deep in the soil.
Searching for neither coins nor toys
that would take away my childish coils.
Instead I search for the worms and birds
Who whispered to me secrets of their tiny world:
that if you listened closely to the hum of the earth,
you would learn to fly across the universe.
Now I kneel before the ground once more,
grasping for the soil until my fingers are sore.
Even if I sit still and watch the flying birds,
I still cannot hear the hums nor the chirps.
            As I grow more but my days grow less,
            I cease to hear the whispers of innocence.
Yay sonnets!
Oh, and just to clarify, I am not a guy.

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