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"remanence" poems
The fox runs alongside the astronaut, who looks at a picture frame. Around the fox’s neck, a white bandana. There, on the spooky moon, his only company is the fox colored aluminum. The aluminum fur of the fox blends into the moonscape. The ship is empty aside from them and the spooky remanence of the rest of the crew. As the lone astronaut works to return home, his only comfort being the bandana and the picture frame. The frame that holds a photo of a woman, standing before the ship of aluminum. Tied around her hair, the bandana which has since been given to the fox. The memories it brings ever haunting the astronaut making the moon ever more spooky. The spooky feeling is not eased by the frame as the remains of passed astronauts are trapped in this aluminum ship, the lone survivors being the man and the fox. He keeps his thoughts on the bandana. Her bandana, given to him on a dark and spooky day, which he then gave to the fox so he may pretend the woman in the frame isn’t millions of miles away from them. A fox of aluminum and a lonely astronaut. The astronaut chooses to focus on returning to the woman without her bandana. He works tirelessly to get the aluminum rocket ship off the spooky and desolate moon, and back to earth, to see the woman in the frame. By his side on this barren rock, looking up at him, stands the fox. The astronaut refuses to let the spooky atmosphere deter him from his goal of returning the bandana to the woman in the frame, ever thankful for the company of the aluminum fox.
0
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 11:03 AM UTC
The Spooky moon with the Astronaut's Frame and the Aluminum Fox's Bandana.
The fox runs alongside the astronaut, who looks at a picture frame. Around the fox’s neck, a white bandana. There, on the spooky moon, his only company is the fox colored aluminum. The aluminum fur of the fox blends into the moonscape. The ship is empty aside from them and the spooky remanence of the rest of the crew. As the lone astronaut works to return home, his only comfort being the bandana and the picture frame. The frame that holds a photo of a woman, standing before the ship of aluminum. Tied around her hair, the bandana which has since been given to the fox. The memories it brings ever haunting the astronaut making the moon ever more spooky. The spooky feeling is not eased by the frame as the remains of passed astronauts are trapped in this aluminum ship, the lone survivors being the man and the fox. He keeps his thoughts on the bandana. Her bandana, given to him on a dark and spooky day, which he then gave to the fox so he may pretend the woman in the frame isn’t millions of miles away from them. A fox of aluminum and a lonely astronaut. The astronaut chooses to focus on returning to the woman without her bandana. He works tirelessly to get the aluminum rocket ship off the spooky and desolate moon, and back to earth, to see the woman in the frame. By his side on this barren rock, looking up at him, stands the fox. The astronaut refuses to let the spooky atmosphere deter him from his goal of returning the bandana to the woman in the frame, ever thankful for the company of the aluminum fox.
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39
Between stolen kisses The hits and misses We create ourselves this distorted image of what we deserve This façade to aid our acceptance this thing we use to find any remanence Of self confidence that has been ripped away leaving our self importance at bay Our own distortion of inner meaning unable to see what and who we deserve The nerve Of ourselves saying we don't deserve the best and that we deserve everything less than the most it's not fair, how being imperfect makes you believe you're some how defective and its not fair that when we get caught in a place with dont belong with someone we don't belong with The only possible reasoning being that We accept the love we think we deserve but you deserve the best So accept it.
0
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
We Accept The Love We Think We Deserve
Lonely is the only emotion I feel, sitting on the counter Plopped down, flicking guilt Remanence on paper, I use to heal I chose to be ill I'm the unattached ****** desire Conversation not required Tormented love, consumed and killed Around this pole, twisted and unthrilled Patiently waiting on something My tied up body feels nothing Still insanity quenches the thrusting When will we finally become ***** and musty I can no longer conceal our secret, smiling Annoyed with me, I'm done hiding Tonight I'm not grieving Deceived, here is your rope of control I need to find the cover for my gaping hole
0
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
How many ways can I say I'm done
As she lays down in a state of bliss, It's only after the reality hits. She's harbouring life inside where her demons resides, She can't afford but she won't abort; she will save a life. What is life if happiness isn't part of the equation? How do we validate and justify our questions and frustrations. Is allowing life saving life? Because in happiness life resides, She can't afford but she won't abort; she will save a life. She's now a Mother of some standard, Equivocally she tries and **** those demons inside her. Her daughter finds no joy in the mother who's smile lays no happiness, Her laugh croaked with the remanence of a pied piper. With no food or knowledge to consume she will surely be laid to doom, Because her Mother died as the demon who consumed her wore her skin like a prize. Giving life isn't saving life, Because happiness is where life resides.
0
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 8:07 AM UTC
Saving a life
The way tough butter melts on a warm sizzling pan -has nothing on the tender warmth of my solid heart after her soft lips curl across her beautiful face. How is it, my love that you make my heart melt and my mind go blank as if miles don't exist, and time could never catch us, I can not wait to be next to you, and watch your lips as you watch me sizzle and drain away into the pulsing cracks of your heart where I hope no matter how hard you try you can not scrape away the remanence of my love and my soft tender words.
0
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 9:51 PM UTC
Her Smile
I can smell the soft floral remanence of blue hyacinths in bloom. The smell lingers everywhere. It reminds me of you. How you always smelled so sweet, like you'd just had a bath with fresh lavender, and rose petals swimming all around you, gathering at your feet. I miss that smell, almost as much as I miss you. It's been a long time since I've thought about you. I've pushed you from my mind, from my scarred up heart. It's better that way, keeping those memories locked up inside me. It took a long time to stitch together the pieces, after you so carelessly ripped my heart apart. I'll always resent you for that. I'll always love you for it too, and whenever those hyacinths are in full bloom outside my window I'll think of you, of how much I loved you, and for just a moment I'll feel a touch of the hyacinth blues.
0
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 2:03 AM UTC
Hyacinth Blues
she walks through the door. she walks through the door. she walks through the door- her hair was so big and curly she must've been hiding millions of secrets in it and i wanted to know them all. she was small but i could tell she could handle herself and all i wanted was to put my hands on her. she moved past me and laid her hand on my back and i was five years old laying on the sidewalk, it was mid july and all the yards around me were emerald pools. the remanence of lemonade danced on my tongue, that was the last time i could remember being warm. she touched me and i felt the sun on my face. she walked through the ******* door and i was warm
0
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 7:43 PM UTC
I once told him his eyes were emerald pools
You say your body is a canvas then so is mine.  I'll carve a heart on my chest so then i know it will exist.  The spectrum of the pain is nothing, when loves hurts in more then one way.  And baby you're killing me.  All this **** you play is getting farther and farther away from what you really want to say.   So breathe deeply and scream.  That our love was never alive, it was just a disgrace of life.  Admit that we both can't be happy, when shallow graves never fill in, they just stay empty.  Yet our cabinets are filled with poisonous memories.  I'll carve a heart on my chest so then i know it will exist after this. The spectrum of the pain is nothing, when loves hurts in more then one way.  And baby you're killing me. Tortured eyes read across the mirrors of time.  Crumbled thoughts in the trash from the tears i bought.  A scattered remanence of love that i fought for but lost.  Its hard to see myself after this when you payed the ultimate cost.  Now who iam suppose to walk with down that empty lane, when these marks were for your pain.  I don't have a heart without your pain.
0
Jun 12, 2011
Jun 12, 2011 at 7:34 PM UTC
I tried
There's been nothing to look forward to The days seem intertwined My dreams have become diluted Stuck in the perils of my mind I'll sleep the day away Stay wide awake throughout the nights The darkness hides the pain I'm in And any remanence of my plight What's out there lurking in the shadows With the stars my only light I stare into the emptiness Weighing wrong from right Questioning my role on earth And which fire to ignite To set in motion my devotion And launch my rocket into flight   I am merely a speck of dust In the grand scale of our 'verse Our existence just an afterthought That mother earths' disbursed Sitting, waiting, watching days go by The outcome looming large An inevitable grave tragedy As tears fall from loved ones eyes I chuckle at the thought of legacy For the future passers by What a twisted complexity This fragile thing that we call life. The hustle and the bustle The ladders we must climb To reach the top, the utmost peek Why even waste the time? Where is the silver lining? What mysteries left to find? What discovery of all discoveries Can amend this somber paradigm? Love you say!? I hasten to agree How does that explain my disdain For the person that is me I, of good heart and soul And adored by a grand descent Still have yet to wet my whistle By way of the clouds above my head I feel I must confess my passion To set the worriers at ease Not for the sake of saying so Nor for the galleries esteem But for self and perseverance The underlining good So what, pray tell do you say? It is that of motherhood The nature of its being The uniqueness and individuality Of every single human being And love, in this pretext Is a love that I can bare That of every living thing In to which nothing can compare A metamorphosis of thought! For you and I alike The yin and yang unearthed The meaning of life.
0
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 5:29 AM UTC
Question the Answer
There's been nothing to look forward to The days seem intertwined My dreams have become diluted Stuck in the perils of my mind I'll sleep the day away Stay wide awake throughout the nights The darkness hides the pain I'm in And any remanence of my plight What's out there lurking in the shadows With the stars my only light I stare into the emptiness Weighing wrong from right Questioning my role on earth And which fire to ignite To set in motion my devotion And launch my rocket into flight   I am merely a speck of dust In the grand scale of our 'verse Our existence just an afterthought That mother earths' disbursed Sitting, waiting, watching days go by The outcome looming large An inevitable grave tragedy As tears fall from loved ones eyes I chuckle at the thought of legacy For the future passers by What a twisted complexity This fragile thing that we call life. The hustle and the bustle The ladders we must climb To reach the top, the utmost peek Why even waste the time? Where is the silver lining? What mysteries left to find? What discovery of all discoveries Can amend this somber paradigm? Love you say!? I hasten to agree How does that explain my disdain For the person that is me I, of good heart and soul And adored by a grand descent Still have yet to wet my whistle By way of the clouds above my head I feel I must confess my passion To set the worriers at ease Not for the sake of saying so Nor for the galleries esteem But for self and perseverance The underlining good So what, pray tell do you say? It is that of motherhood The nature of its being The uniqueness and individuality Of every single human being And love, in this pretext Is a love that I can bare That of every living thing In to which nothing can compare A metamorphosis of thought! For you and I alike The yin and yang unearthed The meaning of life.
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63
It was void less on the dead tree branch, or what was once something reaching for the heavens but now it is rootless. Digging into the earth, like a tombstone of remembrance entwined in razor wire                                                                woes. It was cur once, now it is cut upon even in death, every breath of life the world temps                            it with just cuts deeper. And the onyx crow, just perches on it.              silent, it just gazes at the others neatly put into shallow graves of despair. They are naked for all to see, for all to gaze upon.      stripped of decency. Shallow graves tease as though they wish to flourish, roots are dismembered. But where the branch fell, where the dismembered remanence ****** of self horizontal.            When a tree falls no one hears it... When the now guillotined life falls,         it fell upon its executioner..    In the woods now one hears you fall.. They bleed into the wood, the egg that hadn't hatched now cracked open, a chick will no longer              fly high but sit on this deathly stripped void. Every now and then, when I look out my window,          I see the field, and a crow with gapping vision. And a silhouette of someone.... There neck arched and a smile crocked,                  as if to say this is a coffin above ground.. And there slowly rotting in the earth that took                                        them all... When a tree falls, when the leaves are stripped bare,              only the bones show, and it like those before are just images of what fell when they decendedly silenlty.
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Dec 6, 2019
Dec 6, 2019 at 6:58 PM UTC
When A Tree Falls, Silence Is Nothing
It was void less on the dead tree branch, or what was once something reaching for the heavens but now it is rootless. Digging into the earth, like a tombstone of remembrance entwined in razor wire                                                                woes. It was cur once, now it is cut upon even in death, every breath of life the world temps                            it with just cuts deeper. And the onyx crow, just perches on it.              silent, it just gazes at the others neatly put into shallow graves of despair. They are naked for all to see, for all to gaze upon.      stripped of decency. Shallow graves tease as though they wish to flourish, roots are dismembered. But where the branch fell, where the dismembered remanence ****** of self horizontal.            When a tree falls no one hears it... When the now guillotined life falls,         it fell upon its executioner..    In the woods now one hears you fall.. They bleed into the wood, the egg that hadn't hatched now cracked open, a chick will no longer              fly high but sit on this deathly stripped void. Every now and then, when I look out my window,          I see the field, and a crow with gapping vision. And a silhouette of someone.... There neck arched and a smile crocked,                  as if to say this is a coffin above ground.. And there slowly rotting in the earth that took                                        them all... When a tree falls, when the leaves are stripped bare,              only the bones show, and it like those before are just images of what fell when they decendedly silenlty.
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34
I woke up this morning maybe this will be the day I thought you'll say the words that finally **** me they'll swallow me whole rip out my insides tear my body to pieces burn any remanence of my existence but nothing happened and I got busy so maybe ill just await death until tomorrow
0
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 9:33 PM UTC
not today, maybe tomorrow
When words weren't enough               to show how much                               I loved you. I gave you a box,            containing past loves.. And when you touched them.                           They where still warm, then you knew that my love was true.. As I wouldn't be swayed by the past,                  knowing you held the remanence in your hands. They where still warm,            but all that mattered                              was that there was no going back after this show of affection...
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Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 12:40 PM UTC
Dark Love..
*after all this time where is my heart all the little pieces left in shatters behind to my lovers and to my tears I gave each of you a piece some you cherished others thrown away so in landfills and on mantles I find my remanence and as I pass as a ghost through my past I see in the shards of the memories we had and I cry in wisps until I am blown apart*
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Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 12:28 AM UTC
Ghost Walk
The Christmas tree is vacant of what make it jolly, bauballs  hang in remanence                       with tarnished broken gleam. Disused needles litter the floor,   careful where you tread take care.   The cat hangs loosely paper thin flesh              gaunt from the crimson tinsel throttled around its physique... The Turkey on the table a corpse of                             happier times.. Now a prison of destitute flesh    like paper unwrote upon..               But it says everything. Presents litter the floor wrapped in regrets.. all open, only the bones of                    lost promises lay at the bottom. Christmas time is only 364 days away,    And this will all be here, so will we,                                  no one has found us yet..
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Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 6:57 AM UTC
25th December...
i am not the person you left behind anymore i have new favorite songs, new bad habits, a new favorite color my hair is different, my heart is different, my soul is different the scars on my heart are now stars i am shining brighter than ever the freckles covering my skin are a map of my future and my past i am lighter than ever my smile tells stories of the places i've been i am happier than ever i'm not the person you left behind anymore remanence of the past still lingers but there is no one left here to miss
0
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 8:14 AM UTC
growing