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Saint Audrey Jul 2018
Casualty: my interest fading
Once waxing moon now seen waning
And I did concede your irksome warning
And watched as the rest played out

So let bygones be gone, fallen out by the side
Of this road, worn down, still restless, keeping straight
Eyes glinting off token little bits of hospitality
Mother nature being so inclined at times

The stress so unnerving, I hardly doubt it
But tension is eased once it comes to acceptance
And I accept in full, finding time to unwind
Winding stretch of lonely road, dotted here and there by
An occasional landmark
Or a lonely tractor pulling behind it
Iron bars, old and rusted
Found in their hold
Bales of hay or
A small little pond
With a bench beside it
Holding initials carved against the grain

With a heart surrounding

As mine beats slower

At last, the sun begins going down

And the moon grows brighter
Even in its state
And my feet move faster
Though my body is withering
I feel this separation growing
As my mind takes flight and leaves me

Behind, in the twisting twilight
And alone, I walk along
Sarah Nov 2013
Air
Voice
is what I see,
it is what I hear.
But, what is voice?
All it is is air.
Air
air vibrating to more air.
to things that run on the oxygen.
To the throat, to the neck, to the person.
Who was once star dust, and will one day return to the stars.
When I think of voice,
I think of my own.
The one in my head, not the one that you hear.
Because that is my voice, it it does not change through time,
harden with the wind and twisted in the cold.

It never gets tired, it is the only constant reminder
that I am my self.
Not anyone else.
I don't hear it in my ears. Or see it through my eyes.

I can't because
voice is only made up of air, vibrations of air, traveling through more air.
Now, I'm afraid. I slow down my speech pattern so that the rubble in my head can be heard over the screaming pain that echoes in the back of my neck,
wait no, I mean head, the front of my head. The back of my head...
my brain.

Why are you only electricity when I wished for air?
Andrew Sep 2017
Air
You float through air that doesn't care
The air you share that isn't fair
The air that makes me think we're a pair
I wound up in your wind tunnel
Not understanding it's singular funnel
When you were there
I glided through air
But then you had to fly
As I fell from the sky
Cursing your absent kind

You swept me off my feet
With your tornado broom
Until you were complete
In sealing my doom

Your wind carries loneliness
With a scent of love
I recognized the phoniness
In the flight of doves

Your hypnotic breeze
Put my mind at ease
Until you began to tease
Whispering wild winds into my ears
My hurricane head hammered with fears
Of the intensity of the high velocity
Of your elemental wind monstrosity
For it brings powerful gusts of sorrow
When it's your oxygen I must borrow
If I hope to see tomorrow

Your air is cold
My heart's not bold
And begins to fold
Under the weight of your wind
My mind is giving in
And my eyes start to make clouds form
When your absence creates a lonely storm
Alysia Marie Aug 2016
and for once; she said:

"I can breathe.”

and darling; it was all because of you.

                                       Alysia Marie 2016 ©
This man and I haven’t seen each other in quite a few years, but he’s always in my heart. If only I can muster up the confidence to tell him how I feel.
Jesse stillwater Jun 2018
a breath of fresh air
tickles still-waters
a lone swan's quill
let fall, takes flight
  carpe  diem ―
nigh weightless,
buoyantly skitters
across the water,
laissez faire;
barely dimpling
the shallow peace
on a lake in the wood

a wild feather's
mindless pirouettes
emanate from
the steeping silence
lapping  its
superficial  refection  

the true nature
of wildness,
unspoken freedom,
an untamed
wilder – ness
skims the skinny waters
seeking their own level;
leaving no trace
of  ever being  containable
 
like a breath of fresh air
reinvigorates
unconquerable souls
touching in the
conscious moment ―
a gentle passing breeze
arousing a rogue gust


Jesse Stillwater

01    June   2018
Thank you for stopping to read my soul scribbles :)
Lizzy Feb 2014
Air
oh sweet love,
with those long arms that once held me so gently
now push me away.
but i'm holding on to you so tightly.
no one else really matters,
and without you i'm so alone.

this existence is now so bittersweet.
i still get to breathe,
but not the air beside you.
the air i thirst for and crave,
it tastes like heaven.

but if you must go,
than i will miss you.
all of me will miss you.
i will feel this agonizing loneliness,
in all the pores of my skin
in all the crevices of my bones,
and the tunnels of my veins.

because you have become a part of me,
your breath was absorbed into mine when we kissed.
but now you have ripped this breath right out of my lungs,
and i am left gasping for your air.
my body is so incomplete without you.

i know i am the one that first walked,
but i tried so hard to come back.
now i know how it feels,
to be rejected
by your love.  

i feel myself gripping to the walls of this canyon
my nails making trails as i hold on for dear life
but i have fallen without a parachute
or a net
and now my wings are gone.

i will probably die without
you
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2018
Autumn’s brusque wind slices its way through the remnants of summer,
painting maples in hues of brilliant oranges and reds.
Long shadows of late September streak across the last blades of grass,
as fall’s stark contrasts light the afternoon.

The seasonal wind breathes cold with the smell of autumn in the air.
Autumn’s brusque wind slices its way through the remnants of summer,
while cottony clouds in a sea of cornflower blue, slowly slide out of view,
chased down by v’s of geese as they race across the sun.

Helicopter seeds line the sidewalks, green and gold, as others float on the wind,
down to join with cones and acorns awaiting next year’s crop.  
Autumn’s brusque wind slices its way through the remnants of summer.
Crows, harbingers of the winter to come, make their sad calls.

Squirrels pause to pack their cheeks with Fall’s fare and scurry to secret caches,
their bulging cheeks filled with fallen nuts and acorns.
Fall greets me with a kiss as summer bows to its chill, as
Autumn’s brusque wind slices its way through the remnants of summer.
Autumn Quatern.

All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Lizzy Apr 2014
I've written about the wind
More than countless times.
I've always been so envious
Of it's freedom.
But now more than ever
The jealousy burns me

The air
How it moves and turns
It's free
And it can touch you.
It gets to brush those lips I miss,
And swirl around in your lungs.

It's ubiquitous limbs
Brush up against your arms
And weave between those fingers
it can hold your hands like I used to
it can do everything I can't.

but what I'm most covetous of
how it can watch you
and rest it's head against you
how it can twist in between the cracks in your smile.

the wind is my enemy
she is the temptress that mocks me
she laughs while I cry
because she lives in your lips
and you have no idea
The wind is a ****
Daniel Feb 17
I feel like boiling water
slowly evaporating into thin air
and thus,
becoming invisible to others.

Danny
Something that came to my mind while cooking.
Madison Feb 21
I want your lips to long for mine
the way your lungs ache for air
after holding your breath all day long

kiss me as though my lips are your oxygen
your source of life

gasp for me
like you could never fill your lungs completely

breathe me
Chris Slade May 30
The Avro Vulcan, a majestic big old iron bird, sublime,
was to do a flyby for just one memorable last time.
Maybe with a jet fighter or a Spitfire on each wing, who knew?…
Unthinkable to miss it… almost a crime.
Thousands turned up every year, always a great day out -
but this year would be special, there'd be no doubt.
The last flight of such a legendary plane made it essential…
So, after the flyers’ break for lunch, the crowd filled out.

The entry fee to occupy the field was heinous. 25 quid!
That was for adults - and a fiver for each kid.
So, many more than those that paid, sat happily outside pubs.
Others found shelter in the perimeter’s trees and... kinda hid.
Now, to see a Vulcan fly anytime, anywhere, was magic…
She was a Leviathan of the Cold War,
that held players in the planet’s power games in awe.
And this would be her last time doing the rounds on the air show circuit -
Seeing this locally was hard to ignore.

Mark (a nephew) was a window cleaner by trade.
A regular, down to earth, happy go lucky guy.
…Saturday comes and the kids all voted "McDonalds"…
“A Happy Meal!” they’d cry.
He said that was fine - they’d all go after he’d nipped over
to the airshow to watch the Vulcan fly.
No idea whatsoever, of course, that just by going to Shoreham
just 5 miles away, for half an hour or so… that he might die.

He told his fiancé he’d only be an hour or so…
be back in time to take the kids for a burger and, "NO!"...
He wouldn’t stay. He was the only one in the family
who was bothered anyway…so he wouldn’t ****** up their day.
So, in haste, because apparently Chicken Nuggets & Fries
was much better for the kids than a load of old planes,
he cranked the best out of his bike along the 27 and,
once at the lights by the Sussex Pad,
he pulled over to the kerb to watch from the bushes.
Good view? Well not bad!

Andy Hill was a flyer of many years. His weekday job,
flying for BA.Taking holiday makers, business folk, transatlantic in Seven Four Sevens...
A flight deck maestro, soaring up, just under the heavens.
He’d done Shoreham loads of times… it was exciting, exhilarating... almost sport, his game!
He was off the hook,  became an ace. It gave him that 15 minutes of fame!
Free to thrill - a hero! Standing out from the crowd with every daring step. His aim!

He wasn’t just a petrol head… this bloke had aviation fuel in his blood.
Adrenalin on tick-over. Nought to 60 in 2.7 seconds with 22,000 Horsepower under the hood.
He left Epping full of fuel, just 90 miles away, so in two ticks he was with us, fully loaded and, the weather? It was good.
First up after lunch at half past one… he streaked across the crowded field.
Over and out and up, up, up… Little did the spectators know that Andy had forgotten he was flying a Hunter…
He thought it was last year’s aborted routine in a Jet Provost… The one they'd stopped part way through being, too risky.

"He’s not gonna make it… I can’t look!" There was a hush… a nanosecond’s silence and then the rush,
the whoomph that said it all… that hush! The ground shook!
And the eleven - plus others injured - went up in Andy Hill’s very own fireball!
No, of course, Mark wasn’t the only one to die that day.
Ten other ‘innocents’ left us in pretty much the same way…
Maurice, Dylan, Tony, Matthew, Matt, Graham, Mark R, Daniele, Richard & Jacob.
Mark T, our Mark, had the distinction of having two funerals, not just the one…
More remains were discovered, analysed and found to be his!
Even after he’d…already well... ‘gone’.

The injustice that eleven spectators or just passers by should die
when the survivor, the off target driver, who sped too low from the sky, should, after a suitable pause in this ghoulish game, be exonerated and not take any blame.
Well it’s all sort of things… It's ridiculous, pathetic, obtuse, a joke… who do they think we are?

But the great and the good deliberated, scratched their heads and worked hard to make everything look ’right’…
Tolerance for the bereaved to grieve, platitudes, condescending attitudes, a memorial service.
Thanks - genuinely - to the emergency services… Not just a little buck-passing… But the public often judged them. Arsing about - to cover their corporate backside.
They can’t insult me (or us)… intelligent people have tried…

Andy Hill was judged to be not guilty of 11 counts of manslaughter by gross negligence.
But he claimed he blacked out in the air, having experienced ‘cognitive impairment’ brought on by hypoxia … possibly due to the effects of G-force…. Of course!
The 11 were either hit by the plane or roasted in a fireball caused when the jet flew too low and too slow. But if it wasn’t Andy’s fault then whose was it?

Surely this can’t be the end of this travesty of justice!!

BUT, there IS a new memorial to the dead. And, trust this...it’s a good one too…  The best that money can buy - and that anyone can do.

But there's is also a very bitter taste, still today…
that somehow... just won’t go away!
This is a bit of a saga... But I think it's worth it...On August 22nd 2015 there was a disaster at Shoreham Air Show, West Sussex... on the south coast of England and eleven people died. A loop the loop, too low and too slow. The pilot lived and recovered from his injuries and was found not guilty of eleven counts of manslaughter by gross negligence.
braelynn Jan 15
You.
You were a breath of fresh air during a humid hot day.
One where if you ran too long it would take a few painful minutes to catch that oxygen into your lungs again, a day where sweat seemed to build up in places you had yet to discover.
Yes, you were that breeze that made my hair lift off of my shoulders and bounce all the way to my ears.
You made me feel light and peachy.
You.

But then I realized that you were the one adding all of the extra weight.
You balanced off the scale every once in a while to make it seem like you weren't holding me down by the shoulders.
You tricked me into thinking I was smaller than I really was so I felt vulnerable and trapped.
Made me think the world was too big for me to explore.
You made me think I would get lost.
Made me think I was lost.
You.

Me.
Maybe I am lost,
That could be on me.
I want to find you.
I want you and I to be happy.
And it may seem silly that I do feel this way.
But I miss being able to breathe, and I miss seeing you every day.
I do.

I rather have that weight on my shoulders, even though it felt like a ton.
It kept me down on my feet, made sure I didn’t run.
You made me think I would get lost.
Now look where I am.
I feel so small, and I know it may be my fault.
But I want you to know I don’t resent you at all.
You can always talk to me if you need some fresh air.
You can forever come to me, I’ll always be there.
forgive love miss
~
                    I've been taught
                      To only tread
                  in shallow waters
      But his eyes were oceans of blue
    and I was ready to take the plunge.
       Never mind that I've forgotten
                      how to swim.
     If in return, it is he that leaves me
                        breathless,
  Let it be that I covet air for all eternity.
aviisevil Oct 2017
..





share your thoughts,
stay humble-
stay in the bubble,
of nothingness, and
the light that makes one
blind.

i have my mind,
and then yours to fathom-
universe is so random and yet,
everything makes sense,
if you let your mind wander
far enough.





there's something in rocks,
and water. beneath all that ice
and laughter. that stops all-
all the disaster of being shipped
back to the same hollowness, walls,
and the better part of silence, science,
of not knowing-
where it all came from.

but stay inside the skin,
away from the approaching
nuclear winter and dead people,
made within the deepest darkness
of a normal mind. for it is the normal,
that is against all that is beyond
the grasp of reality.

we'll always be indebted
to our totality,
until the piper leads himself down the
rabbit hole.

but do share your thoughts,
stay humble, lost-
in your bubble of nothingness.
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
My sea is far away
let's meet closer anywhere
under the one same cloud.

My blue water is for the sun.
I sing beneath the wave.

My rose is for the show
I am imbued in the fragrance.
Love is in the air
the scent wafts into my heart.

My sky is open wide
beyond the rainbow
beyond the peacock's eyes.
It hugs the earth
reaching out far afar.

Catch it too
see from beneath the blue.
It casts the birdseye
slips out a butterfly!
A poem from my upcoming book Qun: Love is Unconditional
Lieke Feb 1
I yell and I yell
enclosed by the air
and yet I can't feel it.


I want to hurt myself
just so I can feel something
So I try and I try
but not a drop of blood shed.


I shoot and I shoot
I clash my cymbals
I set myself on fire
I bomb the whole **** cloud.

Nothing moves.


I am stuck in an infinite circle of an alternate reality.
Isolated from life.
I sit and sob
in a cloud of white air.
about a dream I had a few nights ago. 1 February, 2019
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