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Tanay Sengupta Aug 2018
A sight to behold
Is a clear sky on a full moon night.
The magic unfolds,
Looking up to the stars shining bright.
The chilly air kisses my cheeks,
As I lift my head towards the sky.
Gazing at the nocturnal canvas and its antiques
With a naive wish to fly.

Then a sudden breeze breaks the trance
I feel her gentle touch as she passes through.
I look around to see her dance
Oh, how I wish I could dance with her too!

Gracefully, she touches the leaves
She is the wind and she is free!
As she passes through the trees.
She is the wind and she is free!
I hear her whispers as she breathes
She is the wind and she is free!
She flows through me with ease.

Then she slowly fades away.
While I see the night turning into day.

Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018.
All Rights Reserved
Originally written a very long time ago, I think I was probably 15 or 16 back then. I just did a few minor adjustments and posted it here. Happy reading!
A thud at my window!
An unseen moment was let go
For there I sat on a throne
Which bore an ephemeral glow.

(Though it soon had been heard:
Our mother's hand not in the least, is arbitrary
For she weaves such a gossamer web
That connects through all things contradictory.)

And so I rose above my windowsill
And found, a soft bird perched hither,
So close to this ragged forest
Brave—I thought—she;

She waited for an eye, so it seemed,
To meet with her's—indefinitely
Though it took an eternity for me being there,
The next gaze she stole and flew away from me.

A meaning I saw with no boundaries
For an incoherent silence was answered upon,
Like the yearning of a wave to find a shore
Only then, to retreat back to the sea.
ELK Nov 2018
So high, that you could touch the clouds
The world below looked so fragile and small
The lives and worries a single speck amidst the grains of sand.
City lights glowed like tiny stars, blinking in and out of existence following the rythm of code
like the algorithm of a computer.
What once felt so big, is now but a ghost
What once felt so small, is now invisible to the eye--
but not to the heart.
-Esther L. Krenzin-
High in the embrace of a plane, what do you see when you look below?
Melody Goodner Jun 2014
being on the shore
and looking out at the water
is so different
from being on the water,
looking towards the shore.
Silvana Franco Oct 2017
The night is soft and billowy,
Beckoning me deeper into her velvet embrace.  
The dark air caresses me,
Like a smooth, silken hand stroking my face.

The breeze carries with it the scent of autumn;
decaying leaves, campfire smoke, pumpkin spice and pine needles.
A heady cocktail that rouses something in me that no other season can.

This, is my favourite time of year.

The bare trees, colourful leaves and crisp breeze soothe my mind.

The long nights of candlelight and incense soothe my soul.

Draped in moonlight and watched over by the stars,
I drink the wine of ancient Roman nights,
of sacred pagan rites,
of owls' sleepless flights,
of lustful lovers' bites,
That dark and warm midwinter wine.

And it is here

As I lie naked beneath the gentle gaze of the moon,
Vulnerable and exposed,
Innocent and joyful,
With child-like wonder at the beauty that surrounds and encompasses me,
Sipping the crimson nectar of the gods,

That I feel whole.
Lucid Mar 2018
my therapist told me to write more. problem is, i can't write in my journal at this very moment because that may tip him off that i'm up to no good. ever since he's been living here with me, i haven't had the alone time i need in order to purge my feelings. so i keep them inside glass jars in my head, but my inventory is overflowing.

he once told me that he thought i was "one of those people who will never be happy". i wanted to be offended, but instead i shut down. that was months ago, and i still haven't fully woken up yet.

i've come to realize that i can't recall the times when i'm feeling better than "not okay." my therapist tells me that's one of my biggest obstacles. she tells me i need to learn how to recognize positive emotions, as if i didn't already ******* know that. sometimes i feel like therapy is simply flushing money down the toilet.

i haven't had any episodes recently. the ssri's keep my emotions from occurring at all. i've learned to accept that my baseline attitude is "blah". though i can't say that whenever they ask how i'm doing. no sir. maybe if i can convince them that i'm doing better, i can convince myself??

there aren't any decent movies that address mental illness. hollywood is just now starting to address the topics of race, sexuality, and feminism. but you'd think with 16 million depressed people in america, those elitist ******* could come up with some way i can show my family what it's like to live without life. maybe then they'll be able to understand why they shouldn't keep asking if i'm okay.

i told him that i just wanted some alone time today and he said, "have you taken your pills?"

i keep having these dreams where i'm trying to say something, but it won't come out. i've literally woken my dog up several times during the night, because i've actually yelled out loud due to the struggle in my dreams.

i went hiking last week in the hopes that nature would bring me clarity. it didn't. in fact, i feel crazier than ever. i kept seeing myself lying in the clear freshwater as the current took me away. i'm not saying that to be poetic. i actually had hallucinations.

i think i may have a drinking problem
alicks - futile (feat. oneira)
Matterhorn Nov 2018
Ever think that the world
Does nothing but tear us up
And beat us down
Because it knows that it is just
A ball of dirt
And we are made of stars?
© Ethan M. Pfahning 2018
Jack Jenkins Apr 24
Run away//
Run away//
From the alarm clock that breaks your rest//
Run away//
From the pains held in your chest//
A life unblessed//
From blessings you subvert//
Run away//
From the love you invert//
Run away//
Run away//
//On life//
Running being the wrong choice is only dependant on the direction you choose to run...
Diary of Jane Oct 2017
What kind of love is this
that can neither be expressed
nor remain hidden?
What kind of love is this
that no matter how hard I repress
still overflows in my veins?
What kind of love is this
that demands nothing
but knows only to give?
What kind of love is this
that tears apart my heart
every time we say goodbye?
What kind of love is this
that makes this heart quiver
even at the thought of a time
when you will not be there in my life?
What kind of love is this
that won’t let me feel anything
else for you except this
irrevocable, unconditional love?
What kind of love is this
that has no destination
but still goes on aimlessly?
Kd Pascual Jan 11
And in the stillness
Of it all, suddenly, waves
Of thoughts come rushing
goodtea Jun 2018
Maybe at one point
I would have written
Great poetry,
I lost something
Along my way.
I won’t get it back.
I don’t expect you
To return it.
Some things are lost, lost, lost.
Lucid Sep 2018
everyone has that place their mind wanders to whenever boredom strikes, or whenever they become "zoned out"
my mind always imagines a ballerina in black, doing pirouette turns over and over again
it's especially vivid whenever i'm listening to music
over and over, round and round
i only realized this today, & it made me wonder why my mind always drifted there
i thought about it until i realized
how fitting
my conscious mind is always turning in circles
so of course my subconscious mind would, too

his hands on my body
the reeking smell of alcohol and coercion
my mother's lies
my brother's handshake with the grim reaper
the realization
the humiliation
the first time i told her i hated her
the sting of her palm against my face
my father's alcohol problem
i can't escape alcohol
my alcohol problem
the feel of the blade against my skin
the sterile smell of the crisis unit
everyone's willingness to condemn & forget

i don't forget

my body
his breath
her lies
the sting
the alcohol
the blood
the sterility
the pain
the pain
the pain

over and over, round and round
turning constant circles in my head
i fall down
With You - stwo
ELK Feb 22
If I succumb to the current
of the raging river
would it take me home?
If I let it wash away my tears
would it cease my restless wandering--
when endlessly I roam?
Could I ever hope to drown in
stormy depths?
When I claw and I poke
at things I wont accept?
So I plunge in
awaiting the beasts that shall pull me under
Split me apart
pick me clean
and tear me asunder.

-Esther L. Krenzin-
Amaris Aug 2018
there were no broken dishes
and i could still sing
but if i could use one of my three wishes,
i'd change everything.
AmeriMav Nov 2018
The sky is like slate, down falls the rain
Wetting the world with cool breaths of fall
The trees of rich color, leaves all in flame
Setting the contrast in the shades that I saw
The color more resplendent when set against gray
The beauty much more vibrant to me
It's true of the season, and more I would say
It's true of your features I see
Your white skin so bright, so pure, and so soft
Sets the colors of your body apart
Topaz eyes, pink ribbon lips, dark hair set aloft
You're splendid, a true work of art
All these delights, are for many to view
While jewels of your soul, are between me and you
Nicholas Mar 11
is excitement and the lack thereof

developing across
a bed of thoughts


Bending to your will and
guiding it

Alluding you entirely

Compatible in all ways but one,
or one way but none

Love is whatever you make it to be
defined only by the realization of it's existence
fray narte Aug 12
sometimes, we all wish for the world to just stop spinning for a while; that we remain sixteen or nineteen forever — just dreaming of painting the marmoris of the sea and seeing it displayed in a museum. just dreaming of browsing bookstores — each book sinking into your effleurage, until you see that cream-colored cover with your name on the spine. just dreaming of hearing a song from a stranger's car, and call it your own. just dreaming of creating stories out of piano keys. just dreaming of discovering a star.

at least, if the world stopped spinning today, a dream can remain as a dream forever. it will never be another thing we messed up. it will never be another dream we lost.
Inspired by Ted's line in HIMYM, "The longer i put off starting my own firm, the longer it can remain a dream and not something i ******* up at."
annh Apr 14
I wonder, when the apple fell from its tree did gravity reinvent itself?
Did the weight of scientific endeavour hang heavier on the branch?
Did the sun cease to affix the earth with his benevolent glare; the moon blush with shame for having - just once - wandered from her orbit, distracted by the stars? I think not.

Would Silvia have hesitated to tread through the unfrequented woods of Mantua, have declined to walk by silvered path to meet her Valentine? And what of Roxane? Could she have failed to be enchanted by the seductive stories spun beneath her night-time balcony, to be inspired by a shining artemisian crescent?

All of life can not be defined and quantified, expressed as an equation and mathematically declared a derivative of time, distance, and mass. We need no formula for beauty, heartbreak, commitment, and courage. For there are more things in heaven and earth, my dear Isaac, than are written in your philosophy. And - what’s more - you **** well know it!
‘I can calculate the motion of heavenly bodies, but not the madness of people.’
- Isaac Newton

‘Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
To Mantua, where I hear he makes abode;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.’
- William Shakespeare, The Two Gentlemen of Verona

‘Vous souvient-il du soir où Christian vous parla
Sous le balcon? Eh bien! toute ma vie est là:
Pendant que je restais en bas, dans l’ombre noire,
D’autres montaient cueillir le baiser de la gloire!’
- Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac
fray narte Sep 4
it had taken bones,
reshuffled and pounded to pieces
from molding cast irons,
worn, from unsewing and re-sewing heartbeats
and wrists,
white from scarring,
for me not to break
at the slightest touch.
danny Aug 2018
Never to have felt the wind of change upon your flesh,
to dazzle and dance on the precipice.
One jolt after another, character un-built..

Rarely to have left the bed unmade,
After nights of raw abandon, to gaze in a lover or a strangers eyes.
To let go and curse the parachute.

Teeth not brushed fail to bring forth the doom that was promised.
Un-cut grass does not shield waiting monsters.
Chipped paint and failing wallpaper tell a story.

A brush with the law wont quell the gossip mongers.
Alas, to be so safe quietens no mouth.
For they will talk anyhow and the sun will still rise, regardless.
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