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Vicki Kralapp Aug 2013
Waking up to the first morning light,
silently making my way to the beach.
Walking along as I skirt the waves,
and waiting for us to meet.

The raising sun glints on the crest of the waves,
as I wait for you to come.
I remember last night as you kissed me goodbye,
and how I almost came undone.

The shells and the creatures left by the tides,
are now nipping at my feet.
And I stopped to inspect them for a time,
while I wait for us to meet.

Suddenly you appeared from behind,
which gave me quite a start.
as I buried my face inside your shirt,
and prayed that we'd never part.

We kissed each other in the morning light
and promised a love 'til we died.
And with that we kissed our last kiss,
and said our last goodbyes.

I am but a wave on the crest of the seas,
tossed along with the ocean tides.
My love he seemed to be snatched away,
and all I could do was abide.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
dan d Jul 2013
Somewhere buried
within earth
are our tomorrows
and our yesterdays.

Somewhere buried
within our hearts
are all the dreams
we put away.

Somewhere buried
among the stars
is where we shall be
one of these days.

Somewhere buried
among these moments
is eternity,
all that has been and will be...

Somewhere buried
within earth
is all of history.
It was only set in stone.

Somewhere buried
within our hearts
are the nightmares
that we're sure are real.

Somewhere buried
among the stars
is what we shall be
one of these days.

Somewhere buried
among these moments
is infinity.
What could have been...
Krysel Anson Sep 2018
By now,the seed varieties of the world,  
may have been attacked beyond recovery
by wars of pretense and relapses.
We are still learning
how to handle it properly.
We tend to say.

Some will talk and plan over dinner parties,
over TV or Radio. Most will leave
it behind like another corpse
of lessons thrown to the gutter,
like a dead *** on another Sunset Boulevard.

Iraq's seed banks
we blew up in the 2000s.
In various places in Asia
and the Middle East, places of life and cultured
varieties gone in an instant.
Echoing our imprisoned
ignorance and drives for more instant goods and services.

Indian farmers have committed mass suicides after
their god Hanuman was used by a chemical giant
to sell poison seeds and renewed
bondages of indebtedness.

One question a stranger asked a group of writers on tour
was not what their poetry or books were about,
nor why they wrote it, but how writing may and
may not be helping as we make decisions and solve problems now?

Once agricultural lands turn into new promises
of commercial buildings. Cities of inaccessible towers and
abandoned malls in America, Spain, China, and Russia
feeds us back our own echo.

Like converted uses of lands, our humanity
is converted into inanimate collections and status
symbols of some players or parties. As we face
our continuing struggle between
our oppressor-selves and our genuine roots.

Despite the perversions,
inside vicious habits of waste
where we glorify promises of war and efficiencies,
we continue to be entrusted with the ongoing lessons:
Rarely do surviving generations through famine, war and diseases,  
throw away means to live, or destroy any kind of seed.

Every day we wake to the ruins and remains of
Our living poetry, word spaces, hours, exchanges,
gains and losses, stopping and going. This time,
not just for fires of anguish or unnecessary losses,
but for each other's midnight lamps.#
Debbie Brindley Jul 2017
Silence surrounds me
As I lay here beneath the earth
Surrounded by soil
Black fertile soil
Feels as if I've been here
forever trapped
Buried in the darkness
Buried by lifes burdens
If only I could reach the surface
Break through
Though to the sunshine
the fresh air
Fresh air that shall fill my lungs
Fill my lungs
and bring me back to life
To a life I once had
Life filled with color
And sounds of happiness
Instead I lay here stagnant
trapped beneath the earth
In silence
Having a hard day feeling sorry for myself :'(
Medusa May 2018
thinking all of those yearnings buried
walking about this planet securely wrapped
tighter and tighter and even more still
finally something broke

my red balloon floats free
letting in all kinds of
memory, imaginings,
cravings, and love

definitely love
love is there

right there
yes, there
yes, yes, yes

oh god yes,
Rose Apr 27
It may not mean much to you
but it does to me
The late, quiet of this little street
Privacy like time becomes commodity
As lost as El Dorado
Harder to find than Atlantis
Hidden in the deep blue swirlin' sea
The solace in silence, bares the true and priceless treasure
Levi Nov 2018
You say before the moon last stood, that you understood. Take air down lungs to seek the life of one known.

Seen from a distance no greater than finger to thumb. No greater then eyes or ears.

I prefer the surface, with you.
I was hurt by someone close
Sarah Elaine Jan 2018
i take a deep breath
& choke on the dirt
of the garden bed
we built last wednesday

i guess i could say that
the past few years have been
a testament to the pain that
all human beings face

but my tongue hates
the texture of gravel
and i cringe when i see
the way you look at me
Tears…so many tears after my best friend
died. I was 17. Light brown, coarse hair from my
puppy snuggled up to me each night. Crumbs
from many late-night dinners, coupled with
doing homework until the sun peaks
through the sleepy darkness.
My mom’s old white tennis shoes, falling
apart at the seams. Bobby pins.
Snoozed alarms. Text messages I didn’t want
to say goodnight to. Screams,
from that nightmare that felt all too real.
Tears…so many tears. The nightlight I kept
on ever since then. Books. Stories. Adventures.
Gatsby’s blind love. Harry finally defeating his demons.
The matching sock I didn’t have time to find. Dust.
Lots of dust. The phone call when her grandmother died.
My wandering mind dreaming of what the future might hold. Poems,
written and read. The dizzy night I told you
“stay,” and I let you have what you
wanted. Then you told me, “I’m not ready for
a girl like you.” Tears…so many tears.
My mother’s constant disapproval of
me, and my time spent
wasted in her hazel eyes.
Countless nights I wished you
laid with me under my cold lavender sheets.
Misplaced earring backings. Baby blue nail polish dripped.
Bittersweet dreams of a future with you. My puppy’s hidden
treats that he forgot once existed. Phantoms.  
Monsters. Phone calls and Facetime’s that felt like
a moment frozen, but lasted hours. That bright pink
Homecoming dress my mother said I looked
heavy in. Tears…so many tears. Darkness. Months later when you
came back, sleeping peacefully next to me. Forgiveness. Hope.
All the boys I thought were worth my time. Love.


It’s always been you.
Matt Sol Jan 20
A broken pendant
shallow in
the morning snow.
As it pales with
the touch of dawn,
the white dove flies
from mountaintops
as they cascade,
and they cascade.
MJL Mar 9
Stay focused on today
Don’t worry about the dirt
The fear
The pressure
That smothering feeling
The weight of it all
Above you
Around you
Unable to move
You won’t feel a thing
Fear of dying, fear of living.
the moment I lay my eyes on you,
it was like putting another stone on stomp,
I buried your soul from the first heavy stair
like I'm extracting your innocence,
this is how I became a fisher of men.
Using words to finish what lord made.

All we do is Catch fish.
The mall, Campus even the street are the only occean we live in.

I decided to use a first person narrative, hoping it will be more intimate.
Andrew Feb 2018
I come out of the oven
Joining a witch's coven
I am born
I must live
So forlorn
I must give
My heart and soul
For pieces of gold
Until I am buried
In the pieces I carry

I could tell by the smell
You were a bat out of ****
Using echolocation
To sense simple vibrations
Buried under my rib cage
You gave me hope
That I'd die of old age
And not on a rope

Good things come
Good things go
I look for the sun
Buried in snow
How have things gotten this low?
I convince myself I don't know
While I watch you disappearing
From people interfering
The pain is searing
And all I'm hearing

From the **** to the tomb
Buried in diminishing room
By the dark clouds that loom
They form a lightning storm
At first it feels warm
But then rain starts to gather
And Earth is flooded
So I'm pushed down the ladder
By the cold blooded
Until I can find no peace
Only grease
To keep moving faster
So I can be an outlaster
And laugh at the unmarked graves
Of those that made me feel shame

I was born with fire in my heart
It was a funeral pyre from the start
Whittney May 2018
Fighting on the front lines
With red pens
For creativity,
For independent thought,
For common sense
Not Common Core

This is a battle in a bureaucratic war we’re losing
Keep pushing and shoving against an impenetrable wall
But we’re only foot soldiers, not actually giving orders

Kids look down on us and they ask,
“Will this be on the test?”
And say,
“Get out of my face.”

Here’s what I wonder: Why is “mistake” a forbidden word?

Taught by parent(s) to resist.
These are Kids who fail to create
But recite, recall, and retaliate

School is no longer a safe haven
Testing, testing, 1-2-3 hundred murdered students, teachers

Hanging by a thread and losing the grip a little more every day

Following the curriculum map to X marks the standardized test.

We dig and
                  Dig and
For the buried treasure trove of teaching magic. The legitimacy and respect our careers deserve. The money, the time, the love, the support.

But it’s buried under so much testing and red tape, and so    

We fail.
The Bluebonnets grow
yes, row pon row
settled tween the graves
quiet of the spring leaves
heads bowed, and reverent
the breeze silenced now, yet slow

The service solemn and holy
feelings that must apply
not felt by all
though spirits call
but not by me, for I

I'll not trespass
or harass
what others feel, they must
no hate or misgivings
dust unto, the dust

The guns go off
ringing twenty one
country, honor, duty
and the sacrifice
of some
Finality it seems, Fort Sam Houston........
Last day of Winter, 2019.
Rohan Press Oct 2018
requiem, black
ink, darkened pencil-
tips paint the air.

lethargy is a
green that defies

its darkened
palms (once open,
once layering you in

cold) gently remind:
we'll all ensconce
in ground.
you wore four layers today.

i have only one: but it opens up, unleashing my heart, every time you stop by.
Teresa Garde Sep 2017
I am a ghost of myself
and you love every single piece of me
that used to exist

Maybe you stay
and you wait bedside
praying for me to wake up again

And maybe I stay
because you
are the only thing that makes me flinch anymore

I am a ghost of myself
and every morning I pray
that you leave my side

Because, I know, the piece that does exist
is not meant for you
To: My Gin
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
Foot meets the metal of a cold shovel
with a sun beaming down
booted foot pushes the *****
into the soft and rooty ground

one mound of dirt
sweat forms above the brow
two mounds of dirt
salty bead slithers down
three mounds of dirt
tuned into the sounds
four mounds of dirt
birds chirp all around

stopped by a thick root
extra force must be used
give that shovel a pogo of boots
and we are at the fifth mound

six and seven are easy
as the hole starts to round
eight nine ten eleven twelve
a tomb has been found

carried your sheet covered corpse
laid you in the hole
cover you with what was uncovered
creating a man made knoll

Six years of memories
laid underneath this red dirt
many years missing
that time gone subvert
Callie Richter Oct 2018
imagine this.
you experience something
with another person
that typically involves
a great deal of
love and commitment.
but, you didnt want to.
this person didn't love you
nor were they commited to you.
this moment
is usually special
and meaningful.
but, you can't even tell me
if it was because
you dont know.
you dont remember.

welcome to my life.
i was the mere age
of fifteen.
i thought i loved him.

i didn't tell anybody.
i made excuses.
“i remember.”
“i wasn't drunk.”
“i wanted to.”
i spent six long months
burying everything,
before i finally decided
it was time to tell my mom.

last month
my mom told me
i had a doctors appointment.
you see,
i have been consistently
losing weight and
i hadn't been sleeping at night.
when my doctor asked if
my mom could come in too,
i instantly knew something was wrong.
my mom looked into my eyes
and told me i needed to be honest.
i had no idea
what she was talking about.
“she was *****,”
my mom blurted.

you see,
after spending
six. *******. months.
burying everything
that i didn't want to think about,
just to have all that hard work
ripped apart
was heartbreaking.
having someone i
loved and trusted
do something so awful,
so wrong,
that was heartbreaking.
but digging it all back up?
that was torture.
Invisible Feb 5

I look up at the clock
I look back down
The page is blank
But the words flow out

I start to write
I start to worry
Time is running out
I can't breathe

Clawed hands reach out
They fit 'round my neck
They suffocate me
Until I'm out of breath

The claws push me back
And now I'm in the dark
I'm trapped in a box
Like a work of art

I breathe in dirt
Now I'm underground
Six feet under
Barely making a sound

"Let me out"
I hopelessly scream
"Let me breathe
Please hear me"

It's silent now
I've stopped trying
But I hear a whisper
Relentlessly saying

"Roses are red
Violets are blue
I got buried
So should you"

A nightmare I have all the time. It's weird how I never wake up screaming, I just wake up. Its like sleep paralysis, where I know I'm awake, but I can't get up. When my mind is awake, before my body is.
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