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"backtracks" poems
Neurons knit I wake a bit sluggishly slothlike to the kitchen eyes twitching kettle whistling. too noisy, he backtracks to the bedroom. Eventually, brain In gear dressed ready to go out and here he hesitates thinks shall I make another coffee?
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Oct 14, 2021
Oct 14, 2021 at 1:00 AM UTC
Recovery position
You walk the whitened snow in overcast-shadowed delight You look back seeing where your tracks traced you from where you were before, like words written on snowy white paper holding memories gone by... Your mind slowly backtracks to places only moments ago, where small inclined drifs on each side reminded you of miniature mountains, you were a GIANT in the middle of a tiny valley... Sounds became muffled, your planet became transformed into another world Silence prevailed, brief shrilling sporadic gusts nipped at your nose, nipped at your cheeks, and had painted your living portrait red... You had felt your feet crunch down on the newly softened snow, its sounds created noise that crunched LOUDLY... In some places, your wider lifting strides became arduous, they became wider in deeper spots, but you did not mind... This whitined fact almost held by fantasy ridiculed everyday life, silhouetted trees reached their bare arms upward like black grayish winter phantoms against the white horizon, against the gray sky... Tiny windy whirlpools -ever so often- danced around your feet in a soft swirling celebration of your delight... Charmed by your exploration you had embraced every moment Clever in your adoration you now invoke this poem, distinguished only for the astute... ...Provoked by this flurry wisdom and wonderland, you now turn slowly around then forward Now realizing you have just left your memories and poet's signature within those very backtracks you have just left behind...     .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .'
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC
Winterland Backtracks .'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'
You walk the whitened snow in overcast-shadowed delight You look back seeing where your tracks traced you from where you were before, like words written on snowy white paper holding memories gone by... Your mind slowly backtracks to places only moments ago, where small inclined drifs on each side reminded you of miniature mountains, you were a GIANT in the middle of a tiny valley... Sounds became muffled, your planet became transformed into another world Silence prevailed, brief shrilling sporadic gusts nipped at your nose, nipped at your cheeks, and had painted your living portrait red... You had felt your feet crunch down on the newly softened snow, its sounds created noise that crunched LOUDLY... In some places, your wider lifting strides became arduous, they became wider in deeper spots, but you did not mind... This whitined fact almost held by fantasy ridiculed everyday life, silhouetted trees reached their bare arms upward like black grayish winter phantoms against the white horizon, against the gray sky... Tiny windy whirlpools -ever so often- danced around your feet in a soft swirling celebration of your delight... Charmed by your exploration you had embraced every moment Clever in your adoration you now invoke this poem, distinguished only for the astute... ...Provoked by this flurry wisdom and wonderland, you now turn slowly around then forward Now realizing you have just left your memories and poet's signature within those very backtracks you have just left behind...     .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .'
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66
Moving On from Moving On June 11, 2014 at 11:36pm Musings by Vivvy Walker When I got divorced people were helpful and understood I was moving on. They knew it was a BIGGIE A big, huge, ginormous time in my life I was moving on. They helped me. I helped me. Everyone was familiar with the process. The pitfalls. The backtracks. The wins. The successes. I was moving on. And now I am firmly entrenched in vague territory. I have moved on. And I need to move on. From moving on. I moved. I packed. And unpacked. All the baggage. Physical and emotional. I am post-moving on I am done. I no longer need to work ridiculous hours. Or raise my girls alone. Or be alone. I always thought it would be easy when I was done Moving on. But it is hard To reprioritize yet again. To reorganize my life & thoughts (yet again) To adjust To be laid-back. And free. And funny. I have to constantly remind myself I'm no longer moving on That chapter has closed. It is time for my voice To be heard. For my dreams. To be realized. For me I think of the men and women who- like me Have moved on And I raise a glass Coffee, wine, beer, ***** Drink with the little umbrella I toast you The changelings, the chameleons The doers, the movers And shakers Those crazy laughing' probies' Of life post divorce I toast you The tortoises The 'long run' winners Those plodding wonderful people Of life post-divorce I toast you My fellow butterflies My new wing-having friends All those who cried And then didn't anymore Post-divorce I toast you For bravery And audacity And showing me how to move on From moving on Post-divorce ~Vivvy Walker 6/12/14
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Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 3:22 AM UTC
Moving On From Moving On
Moving On from Moving On June 11, 2014 at 11:36pm Musings by Vivvy Walker When I got divorced people were helpful and understood I was moving on. They knew it was a BIGGIE A big, huge, ginormous time in my life I was moving on. They helped me. I helped me. Everyone was familiar with the process. The pitfalls. The backtracks. The wins. The successes. I was moving on. And now I am firmly entrenched in vague territory. I have moved on. And I need to move on. From moving on. I moved. I packed. And unpacked. All the baggage. Physical and emotional. I am post-moving on I am done. I no longer need to work ridiculous hours. Or raise my girls alone. Or be alone. I always thought it would be easy when I was done Moving on. But it is hard To reprioritize yet again. To reorganize my life & thoughts (yet again) To adjust To be laid-back. And free. And funny. I have to constantly remind myself I'm no longer moving on That chapter has closed. It is time for my voice To be heard. For my dreams. To be realized. For me I think of the men and women who- like me Have moved on And I raise a glass Coffee, wine, beer, ***** Drink with the little umbrella I toast you The changelings, the chameleons The doers, the movers And shakers Those crazy laughing' probies' Of life post divorce I toast you The tortoises The 'long run' winners Those plodding wonderful people Of life post-divorce I toast you My fellow butterflies My new wing-having friends All those who cried And then didn't anymore Post-divorce I toast you For bravery And audacity And showing me how to move on From moving on Post-divorce ~Vivvy Walker 6/12/14
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67
I dreamt of you last night You wrapped your arms to me tight It felt so warm and comforting That familiar sensation I am still longing. You said you wanted me back Then suddenly all the memories backtracks Words cannot describe how delighted I was But my feelings cannot tolerate anymore pain that you might cast. Why did our time have past? It all went by so fast Is this the sign that I should bury our past? The thought makes my heart crack and wants to blast. My dream slowly fades to black I end up crying because I, too wants you back Only you will fill what my heart lacks Guess, you are still the dream I wish won’t last.
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Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 3:05 PM UTC
Still
Amazing how opinions Suddenly become facts When the court becomes a minefield And no one ever backtracks They just keep on marching forward Stomping all over the sanity Of those who have no hope of any reward For keeping a check on their  own vanity They don't scream it from the rooftops They pace themselves like a funeral dirge Slow and steady till everyone's ready For the real persona to emerge Hyperdrive.... man alive Where the hell did that come from It was hiding in the darkend corner Waiting for the time to be right To emerge upon the senses of those around Who absolutely positively haven't got a clue That imagination is not ...just An abstract situation Where part timers can go to feel Some sense of satisfaction It's a full time job Where the verbal grenades that you lob May make a point or get a laugh Or blow up in your face But if there is dedication To the value that you accepted As a reward For your part and expanding the mundane From small talk and small thinking to.... Revelations and education and new paths To be explored Where the minefields have become diffused And reality has become... so confused By an opinion that has suddenly become Chiseled into stone Where you and you alone Know the combination to The lock........ You possess To a strong box Full of small talk and small thinking That you are always finding is impossible Impossible....impossible..... IMPOSSIBLE.....    ............TO  DISPOSSESS
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Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 4:38 AM UTC
dispossessed
Peddling backwards up a steep hill gets me nowhere Instead it ends up with me in a heap at the bottom gasping for air. Shame, I think; the weather could be nice up there.
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Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 10:24 AM UTC
backtracks
He stands on a cliff called love Overlooking the abyss I call out behind him He’s ready. He backtracks along the rocky surface My face turns dark The earth beneath him gives way He’s falling. He reaches out Clawing at the darkness My hands grab his He’s safe. I stand on a cliff called love Overlooking the abyss He calls out behind me I’m ready. I backtrack along the rocky surface His face turns dark The earth beneath me gives way I’m falling. I reach out Clawing at the darkness The abyss swallows me I’m alone. - t.h.
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Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 2:05 PM UTC
A Cliff Called Love
I WAS LOST,I WAS ALONE WHEN YOU CAME LIKE A TWINKLING STAR INTO MY DARK NIGHTS WHEN I FOUND MYSELF/ BUT I WAS NOT THAT LUCKY BECAUSE WITH ME LIFE HAS ALWAYS BEEN MURKY// BUT NOW I WILL LIVE BECAUSE YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO BE HAPPY MAYBE I WAS NOT YOURS OR YOU WERE MINE STILL I WILL SAY IT AGAIN YOU CHANGED ME ITS YOUR AURA THAT MADE ME. THINK LIFE IN NEW WAYS AND YOUR THOUGHT MADE MY. DAYS STILL WHEN I RECOLLECT YOU I CAN SEE MY INNERSELF THAT SAYS , LET'S LIVE (LIFE) IN A NEW WAY/ WHERE HAPPINESS IS SANCTITY WHERE THERE IS NO PAIN AND LUST// SIDE ASIDE ALL YOUR EARTHLY ENTITY AND COME BACK/COME BACK. AGAIN// (MONEY PRIDE)NOTHING IS IMMORTAL/ THE ONLY EVERLASTING THING IS YOUR SOUL/ SO BE FREE, FREE FROM (ALL) YOUR BACKTRACKS AND YOUR MUNDANE POSSESSIONS. BREAK ALL THE MYTHS/ GIVE UP THE RUST OF YOUR SOUL/ BE AUDACIOUS/ AND COME BACK AGAIN/COME BACK...// LIFE IS SHORT,LIFE IS INVALUABLE (SO) DON'T JUST WASTE IT KNOW YOURSELF AND BE THE GREATEST OF YOURS. TILL THIS DATE. MY FRIEND, (LET'S) BREAK ALL THE PREJUDICES MAKE THE WORLD YOURS AND COME BACK COME BACK AGAIN...
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Feb 13, 2021
Feb 13, 2021 at 11:20 PM UTC
Free~~Breaking The Barriers
"I am broken" slides off the tongue easy, but leaving the dream is not as thrilling I have made friends with my cracks that I I don't remember how not to be broken We sit and chat around the bonfire of my, insecurities.... Laughing on, about our best memories ....Memories of heartache, depression betrayal,, of obscurities that Kindled my life as long as I can remember. I think, I'm now addicted... To holding hands with my pieces To the warmth of my insecurities To the peace when I trace my, backtracks I think I'm now addicted, .... to the lies painted by my smile to the tingling feeling when my heart is pricked by arrows of, disappointment To the reality of feeling uncomfortable in my skin Because to me that is, contentment. I am broken, Parts of me can no longer fit, together. My thoughts are triangles, In a circle of my reality, around my square life. Held together by tired strips of, leather. I am broken, but somehow I make it work.
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Apr 6, 2023
Apr 6, 2023 at 9:31 AM UTC
Dear diary
i don't know whose firsthand reaction to the sight of me crawling is worse that of the man that asks how i am as he backtracks in baby steps or those of the rest who due to oversight or indifference are unconsumed and unconcerned by and with futile breaths nonetheless but i sure as hell know the answer     doesn’t matter     so long as i stay sat     writing rhyming rants     to hold my skull’s fracture captive     and perhaps     so i can have it massacred     alongside its inner cats     their joint force task of making contact     with my meek heart also known as     the meager muscle   plasma-mad       in vein               and                  collapsed. - end
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Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 6:37 AM UTC
vain