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So Dreamy Jun 2017
Bagiku, kamar adalah satu ruangan persegi yang paling krusial di antara ruangan-ruangan lainnya. Magis, nyaman, penting, dan pribadi. Kamar tak hanya berisi tentang selimut dan bantal-bantal yang dilapisi kain bercorak bunga-bunga atau selimut berbulu yang lembut. Tidak juga tentang tumpukan baju sekali pakai yang dilipat di atas nakas dan kursi roda meja belajar. Tidak juga tentang jendela yang selalu terbuka lebar setiap pagi, mengajak udara segar untuk memasuki rongga hidung, membawa masuk lantunan burung-burung. Terlepas dari karpet cokelat muda yang selalu tergelar di tengah-tengah ruangan, yang dihuni berbagai remah-remah makanan—keripik kentang, biskuit, roti kering—ruangan berukuran 4x4 ini menyimpan dan menyembunyikan banyak hal.

Cerita, rahasia, asa.

Bagiku, kamar adalah saksi bisu. Saksi bisu atas upaya yang pernah ditempa, semangat yang tak pernah padam untuk membara, diri yang selalu kembali bangkit setiap kali jatuh ditampar dunia, serta doa-doa yang mulai dibisikkan dengan lembut sejak fajar menyingsing. Meja belajar yang tak pernah rapi, rak buku yang ditinggali berbagai macam buku; novel, buku puisi, buku pelajaran, buku latihan soal, tempat pensil yang berantakan, cahaya dari lampu meja belajar yang hampir rusak, serta mading yang tak pernah sepi dari berbagai kertas target dan to-do-list yang ditempel.

Kamar juga mata bagi segala perasaan; marah, kecewa, putus asa, sendu. Inilah tempat di mana sepi terpelihara dengan baik, yang anehnya, terasa menyenangkan dan bersahabat. Tenggelam dalam kesibukan sendiri, menulis seorang diri, membaca dengan latar musik indie, yang barangkali hanya satu dari sepuluh orang pernah mendengarnya. Ruangan persegi ini merupakan tempat di mana lagu The Trial of the Century – French Kicks diputar, selalu bergandengan dengan kekecewaan yang perlahan merekah di bilik dada. Tempat di mana Fall Harder – Skyler Spence diputar bertepatan dengan lamunan, ide-ide abstrak, membayangkan hal-hal manis yang misterius. She'll lose herself in bright-lit skies, she watches the sun go by, and even if her love runs dry, she'll be there for the summertime. Ialah sesuatu yang terasa cukup magis dan menyihir, bagaimana lagu tersebut selalu membawaku ke dalam lamunan dan gambaran yang muncul seketika di benak, lalu terbitlah ide-ide dan keinginan untuk membuat sesuatu.

Menulis.

Ruangan persegi ini adalah ruangan kecil yang paling setia menaungi ide-ideku yang seringkali tumpah-ruah tak tahu waktu dan tempat, yang kadang dapat direalisasikan menjadi sebuah karya, kadang juga hanya duduk diam tak mau bergerak di dalam kepala. Ialah ruangan persegi yang dengan sabar mendukungku untuk selalu bergerak mengikuti dinamika inspirasi yang datang, memberontak minta dikeluarkan dari kepala, memintaku untuk selalu menjadi produktif. Tentang menulis cerita singkat dan puisi (karena penulis hebat tidak pernah kehilangan inspirasi, menulis dan bermain dengan kata-kata, bercanda ria dengan rima adalah asupan hariannya layaknya menghirup oksigen). Membaca banyak buku dan terus belajar. Melepaskan tangisan dan emosi yang lelah dipenjara di dalam hati, membiarkan mereka menghujani kertas kosong dalam bentuk kata-kata yang bebas. Mengevaluasi diri, membuat target-target.

Membuat prakarya-prakarya sederhana. Menyanyi lepas dan menari mengikuti irama musik. Menjadikan musik indie sebagai latar musik yang membuat semua komponen di ruangan persegi ini menjadi lebih menyatu, saling melengkapi, menciptakan ide baru, lagi.
Julie Grenness May 2016
This is an ode for chicks who tough it,
About an empowered Little Miss Muffet,
Sitting alone there on her tuffet,
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her,
Or was he a predator?
What was he after her for?
So, she said to the spider,
Who sat down beside her,
"Rak off, hairy legs!
Don't even beg!
Less is more, less is more,
P.O.Q. , you naughty predator!"
And she ate her own curds and whey!
Empowering Miss Muffets these days,
Hopefully, us old bags do say......
Feedback welcome!
Can we not force from widow’d poetry,
Now thou art dead (great Donne) one elegy
To crown thy hearse? Why yet dare we not trust,
Though with unkneaded dough-bak’d prose, thy dust,
Such as th’ unscissor’d churchman from the flower
Of fading rhetoric, short-liv’d as his hour,
Dry as the sand that measures it, should lay
Upon thy ashes, on the funeral day?
Have we no voice, no tune? Didst thou dispense
Through all our language, both the words and sense?
’Tis a sad truth. The pulpit may her plain
And sober Christian precepts still retain,
Doctrines it may, and wholesome uses, frame,
Grave homilies and lectures, but the flame
Of thy brave soul (that shot such heat and light
As burnt our earth and made our darkness bright,
Committed holy rapes upon our will,
Did through the eye the melting heart distil,
And the deep knowledge of dark truths so teach
As sense might judge what fancy could not reach)
Must be desir’d forever. So the fire
That fills with spirit and heat the Delphic quire,
Which, kindled first by thy Promethean breath,
Glow’d here a while, lies quench’d now in thy death.
The Muses’ garden, with pedantic weeds
O’erspread, was purg’d by thee; the lazy seeds
Of servile imitation thrown away,
And fresh invention planted; thou didst pay
The debts of our penurious bankrupt age;
Licentious thefts, that make poetic rage
A mimic fury, when our souls must be
Possess’d, or with Anacreon’s ecstasy,
Or Pindar’s, not their own; the subtle cheat
Of sly exchanges, and the juggling feat
Of two-edg’d words, or whatsoever wrong
By ours was done the Greek or Latin tongue,
Thou hast redeem’d, and open’d us a mine
Of rich and pregnant fancy; drawn a line
Of masculine expression, which had good
Old Orpheus seen, or all the ancient brood
Our superstitious fools admire, and hold
Their lead more precious than thy burnish’d gold,
Thou hadst been their exchequer, and no more
They each in other’s dust had rak’d for ore.
Thou shalt yield no precedence, but of time,
And the blind fate of language, whose tun’d chime
More charms the outward sense; yet thou mayst claim
From so great disadvantage greater fame,
Since to the awe of thy imperious wit
Our stubborn language bends, made only fit
With her tough thick-ribb’d hoops to gird about
Thy giant fancy, which had prov’d too stout
For their soft melting phrases. As in time
They had the start, so did they cull the prime
Buds of invention many a hundred year,
And left the rifled fields, besides the fear
To touch their harvest; yet from those bare lands
Of what is purely thine, thy only hands,
(And that thy smallest work) have gleaned more
  Than all those times and tongues could reap before.

      But thou art gone, and thy strict laws will be
Too hard for libertines in poetry;
They will repeal the goodly exil’d train
Of gods and goddesses, which in thy just reign
Were banish’d nobler poems; now with these,
The silenc’d tales o’ th’ Metamorphoses
Shall stuff their lines, and swell the windy page,
Till verse, refin’d by thee, in this last age
Turn ballad rhyme, or those old idols be
Ador’d again, with new apostasy.

      Oh, pardon me, that break with untun’d verse
The reverend silence that attends thy hearse,
Whose awful solemn murmurs were to thee,
More than these faint lines, a loud elegy,
That did proclaim in a dumb eloquence
The death of all the arts; whose influence,
Grown feeble, in these panting numbers lies,
Gasping short-winded accents, and so dies.
So doth the swiftly turning wheel not stand
In th’ instant we withdraw the moving hand,
But some small time maintain a faint weak course,
By virtue of the first impulsive force;
And so, whilst I cast on thy funeral pile
Thy crown of bays, oh, let it crack awhile,
And spit disdain, till the devouring flashes
**** all the moisture up, then turn to ashes.

      I will not draw the envy to engross
All thy perfections, or weep all our loss;
Those are too numerous for an elegy,
And this too great to be express’d by me.
Though every pen should share a distinct part,
Yet art thou theme enough to tire all art;
Let others carve the rest, it shall suffice
I on thy tomb this epitaph incise:

      Here lies a king, that rul’d as he thought fit
      The universal monarchy of wit;
      Here lie two flamens, and both those, the best,
      Apollo’s first, at last, the true God’s priest.
Gabrielle Dec 2020
Poseidon reared his unkempt head
Above the waves today
An ocean monster dripped in dread
Chest to chest with the bay

“Today, or any day at all!”
The shore-side heard his plea
Salt shucked shoulders tall as islands small
“No being shall ever challenge me!”

One gull omitted a thoughtful word
Which sounded much like “Rak!”
One offended brow raised at what he heard
Poseidon countered with a slap

Five foul fingers touched the sky
And fell upon the sea
A wave as great as mountains high
Sighed upon the beaches knee

With a drunken beat of lazy wing
The gull escaped his perch
Finding another on which to cling
Without a moment’s search

Fists clenched around the shallows
Poseidon was enraged
With urchin riddled lips pursed he bellowed
And blew the beach away

Up went beachgoers along the coast
Into the sandy storm
Sun chapped mums beginning to roast
Castling children, One man named Norm

Gull glided softly on the wind
Providing a flap or two
And to the defeated Poseidon's chagrin
Let out a cantankerous coo

In one last fit of aqueous rage
Posiedon surfaced to land
And in a briny blind rampage
Grabbed the gull with swole hands

Gull in hand Poseidon yelled
“What dare you mean sly poultry?
My kingdom is unparalleled,
All pilgrims seek my choultry”

But the oily gull slipped through his grip
And flew quite far away
And as he watched it dive and dip
He came to see the bay

Debris was strewn across the sand
His subjects were in ruin
Disaster spread across the land
And it was all his doin’

A desperate shade turned Poseidon
As he returned to the great deep
“What use am I as a mighty king
If protection I cannot keep?”

That is how a seagull won
Against The God of Sea
Who forgot about his job, just one,
To keep the big blue world carefree
This poem is a story about Poseidon and a seagull, initial draft
Tahun lalu kita menyusun rencana
Menuliskannya pada setiap lembar catatan
Di antara selipan buku laporan
Meletakkannya secara berantakan
Hingga lupa mana tulisan
Mana struk belanjaan

Memang benar tolol aku kala itu
Membangun cinta di atas rasa penasaran
Dan selalu berakhir pada tempat pelarian

Malam itu kau membelikanku sebuah rak buku
Untuk hadiah ulang tahunku
Karena tidak ada lagi yang dapat kita perbincangkan
Setelah lepas habis cerita kau bacakan
Dan aku selalu ketiduran dan tak pernah serius mendengarkan

Hujan kembali berderai dengan ringan
Malam pekat angin berhebus tak karuan
Aku masih mabuk di pangkuan kegelisahan
Memukul rata puisi menuliskannya hingga nanti aku mati
Indonesia, 13 April 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
Julie Grenness Jan 2017
Yes, great acting!
Why am  I reacting?
Shame about your treats,
You're one of life's creeps,
Shame about your empty space,
Rak off and join the human race!
Feedback welcome.
wordvango Dec 2014
of the Americans
Five foot four and petite
Lynn was imported nitro glycerine.
She twanged, and with her kind they made me
uncomfortable, as they spoke words I did not know and giggled.
I tried to teach her western things, or Did I want to learn
Eastern ways. Never the one to digress, in the middle of getting to know her,
she said," pom rak kun"
I thought about that
more than a minute and returned,
"chan poot tai mai bpen"
my love.
Ken Pepiton Sep 2021
Diwanit bugale
May you blossom, children
Didostait bugale Come near, children
Ar serr-noz hag ar gouloù deiz Dusk and dawn
Roit kalon din-me Give me courage
Aon 'm eus rak hon dazont The future frightens me

Tomm eo d'** kalonoù The country people's wisdom
Furnezioù ar re a-ziwar ar maez Warms up your hearts
Hag ar c'hleuñioù o tihuniñ And the waking slopes
War an douaroù 'tro al lenn du On the lands around the black pond

Diwanit bugale May you blossom, children
Ar stourmoù kalet, an emglev The hard fights and agreement
Ganeoc'h eo 'teu komzoù didro You speak straight words
Ha brav e kavan ** toare And so beautiful is your way
Da safar 'r yezh To use the language
A ra diank din, siwazh That I miss, allas

Diwanit bugale laouen May you blossom, children
Ar menezioù melen The yellow mountains
Gant hiraezh d'hor gouelioù kent With the nostalgia of the old celebrations
'Tre ** tiweuzoù ar wirionez Between your lips is the truth

Diwanit bugale May you blossom, children
Gleb ** taoulagadoù dre forzh c'hoarzhin With your eyes wet from laughter
Ha didrouz ** klac'harioù And your sorrows silenced
Diwanit bugale May you blossom, children

Diwanit bugale May you blossom, children
Ar stourmoù kalet, an emglev The hard fights and agreement
Ganeoc'h eo 'teu komzoù didro You speak straight words
Ha brav e kavan ** toare And so beautiful is your way
Da safar 'r yezh To use the language
A ra diank din, siwazh That I miss, allas

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-DuuDQff7o Eurovision ,96
Referencing Fawns use of kalonoù, I found a song that uses it better than I can:
http://www.diggiloo.net/?1996fr=
Ken Pepiton Sep 2021
Three layers of metadata deeper…

servile gates ask,
"Pretty-print this minified file?"
option PRETTY-print
or Don't show again… learn more

ever these occur
pop up possible means beneath the image,
that was
my goal. The kids in holocaust garb
memeing me to not forget,
but those kids
look fatter
than the kids in Eli Wiesel's Night Scenes
from the Bible,
so I was seeking the source

blurr ie smear
QR code crossover, are we in the machine?
id est
AI suggests we are of one mind,
some time
think if we
sing the syllables, roll the r's
roll all r's
- an exercise in being otherwise minded
"
Diwanit bugale
May you blossom, children
Didostait bugale Come near, children
Ar serr-noz hag ar gouloù deiz Dusk and dawn
Roit kalon din-me Give me courage
Aon 'm eus rak hon dazont
The future frightens me"

From <https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4441176/curious-fawn-makes-me-think-kalonou/>
Say it sing it, act as crazy as can be, nobody ever knows... that once, that one time, it all came out...
bubbles popping all along the distant shore, seen close as quantum foam.
GEIGA VIA TANARO Sep 2018
Ia adalah buku folklore berjalan ku
Merengek agar dibaca di sela bab tentang romansa sedang tak klimaks
Laun entah sudah bab berapa
Laun aku mengerti
Buku folklore ku akan ke haribaan nya
Kesepian di rak nya
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
ocalunkiem smierci, godla, daj nam wac paniem, wygoic swa rane, a swym zorem oddac, ramie w ramie serca zbawienie, golym tym w dluga reke: przywitaniem jak rak w czep i szkic odgrac sie, w mowe by posunac sie w tlo cizsy, i tym byc, jednym, zbawionym od zora tych, co zwanym: pospolitym pospulstwem, i hanba narodow, od zyda do i po zyda: z krwi i kosci, po grob!
wcb Feb 2019
Meh
MEH
It’s what we say when we...
Don’t care.
Aren’t excited.

RAH
It’s what we say when we...
Celebrate.
Cheer.

These initials are important,
they represent people.
One, a dangerous disassociative abuser.
The other, a beautiful mind and soul.

The past is MEH, our future is not.
But the future will see RAH transform.
Perhaps to RAK, though my dream is RAB.
To M; you just don’t matter. Meh.
gadisunja Feb 2023
Tak ada yang lebih tabah
dari akhir bulan Februari,
disandarkannya tubuh rindu
kepada rak buku di pojok kamar itu.
sunja berlalu
LLZ Apr 2020
Intazaar hai ..
Us pal ka
Jab phele ki tarah apne diye ,
Naam se mujhe pukaroge,
Dudkar mere karib aakar kas ke Gale
Lagaoge.
Intazaar hai..
Us pal ka
Jab pyaar se mujhe phela nivala khilaoge.
Intazaar hai..
Us pal ka
Jab tumhare kande pe sir ,
Rak ke ganto Tak khoo jaungi.
Intazaar hai ..
Us pal ka
Jab apni galtiyu pe ,
Sorry sorry bol kar mujhe manaoge .
Intazaar hai...
Us pal ka
Jab apna Toda sa qaut sirf mere liye nikaloge.
Intazaar hai ...
Us pal ka
Jab phele ki tarah pyaar se
Aapne diye naam se mujhe pukaroge ,
Dur rehke bhi paas hu,
Aisa kah jaoge .
Intazaar hai ....
Dharmendra Kumar Sep 2020
Vaise to dur hu mai
Lekin thoda dil pe haath rak
Tere paas hu mai
Aalag alag hai aaj
Aisa nahi ki yaad nahi karte
Vakt kaisa bhi **
Ye kabhi mat socha na ki tujhe pyaar nahi karte
Aankhon pe paani hai
Dil bhi udas hai
Ye to aankhe band karne pe pata chalta hai
Ki tujhe kitna chaahate hai

— The End —