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Gemma Apr 2018
A field
(Grass, mud, flowers, bugs)
One winter
(Hats, coats, scarves, gloves)
Was one of my favourite walks with you.
1,2,3,4 legs running full speed
Like they were designed to.
You were thirteen
and I know age is just a number but it means a bit more now there's something wrong.
Everyday your still mistaken for a puppy
but maybe it's because that's what age you are , forever, in my heart .
Who knew, cause I never did, that a dog could finally give a hectic family a meaning ?
Who knows , I don't know, whether when it happens I'll ever be able to pass the stage of grieving ?
You were always more than enough ,
more than a hug, a walk , a fuss
You are a part of the family
And you have served us love.
Ruzica Matic Jul 2017
pigeons still
wait for meals
by that bench
where Sun once grew
in tufts of gold

girls skipping classes
to window shop
their scarves wild
and their nails chipped

tough boys go out and smoke
and cough and dance
and act brave
and cut their hair
in the dark

and words of a new language
tumble down our tongues
head over heels
tasting strange
but falling into place
after all
Aduain Nov 2018
I look for you in the faded light
Mist obscures a soul so bright,
Lost in words that give no peace,
The melody, I fear will cease.
Smile, that time is not so near,
So lets go have another beer!
The laughter will endure the dark,
The glow will make the features stark

We can last forever, it seems,
Walking on the narrow beams,
of life in HD technicolour,
a cruel assessment of a dying pallor.
Of course, this will all come to pass,
And we will celebrate the holy mass,
With music, alcohol and song
And everything that seems so wrong.

To keep the memories alive,
The feelings that we keep inside,
must eventually be let go,
into the river of life’s flow.
Come now, and take my hand!
At the river bank, where we will stand,
smile warmly at those who pass,
and embrace this life of love at last.

The song goes on and never fades,
The lively tunes strange cadence plays,
And keeps the sun above us strong,
To warm our skin the summer long.
The long cold winter will come soon,
With coats and scarves we’ll be festooned,
But in our hearts warm with desire,
We’ll rest nearby our passions fire.

A deep and healthy sleep will help,
The mothers last milk for the whelp,
That feeds with only food in mind,
Eventually, being left behind,
To meet head on life’s expectation,
to declare love as its last oration.
For this we can only be thankful,
And to that thought, lets light a candle.

Olivia L Oct 2015
Please, please stop yelling. My head is too filled up with noise and darkness for me to even hear you
Every ******* day, I have to wake up and smile, pull on my mask and sprinkle the light into my eyes, and you expect me to
Recognize your ideas that push me further into the closet, hiding behind the dresses and scarves and makeup and shirts and shoes and tights and jackets and hats and
Fucking costumes that I use to fit your vision. To pretend that things are in the past, and that
Everything that is wrong has been fixed. That my broken soul is sewn back together, and I no longer have a gaping whole inside of me.
Come on, do you really think that what I'm saying are my true words?
T**hat this façade that I glide through life in is me? Because this person, this PERFECT persona that I place on myself is my shield, and one day, it's going to break
Slam poetry idea. I'm getting a head start on things this year, still have about six or seven months till the competition, so lots of time to churn out pieces.
Childhood is the sweet air of spring,
To laugh, dance and sing,
To give roots to be strong and happy,
And wings to fly.
Youth is the beautiful smile of summer,
A kiss and memories that last forever,
Enjoy the greenery of life of the season,
And sway with the leaves and flowers in the Sun,
Middle age is the crisp Autumn,
A mellower season,
When leaves are falling,
A change is happening,
Sweaters, scarves,feeling nostalgic,
Trying to bring back the magic,
Of health and well being,
A second spring.
Old age is life's winter,
Bare trees with icy splinter,
A need for comfort,good food and a caring hand,
A verdict of life,where we stand,
A reward of childhood and youth,
Middle age and its truth,
The last act,
Life's fact.
Corey Apr 2016
Minutes after - complete despair,shaking body and lack of functionality, decision making at its worst
The morning after - headache, weak muscles, and no tears left to shed after last night
Day 2 - more tears brought when telling people the news
Day 5 - regret, anxiety, and wondering if I've made the right choice
Day 10 - loneliness, after talking to someone day after day to no one
Day 15 - first contact and I've found out you moved on
Day 20 - “I have needs” ****** ones that you only just recently discovered with me?
Day 25- regret, and confiding in people I shouldn't be talking to
Day 35 - wanting to confide in you again, but giving you space
Day 40 - flirtatious with others
Day 50 - love at first sight, falling in love with nearly every attractive woman I see
Day 60 - it makes me smile when you think I am tweeting about you, don't try and start ****
Day 80 - regret and depression, worse depression than directly after the breakup

Day 100 - talking to others is tough, finding that I am quickly wanting to fall in love with them and leading them on. The sorrow aches at night, but is forgotten in the daylight
Day 110 - I cut ties with the people I've wrongly confided in, I am alone again
Day 125 - insecurity as I feel I should go out on dates as friends have told me to
Day 150 - skipping school, poor attitude, and hard hitting sarcasm
Day 175 - you are on your third or fourth new “boyfriend.” I've lost count

Day 200 - the connection with my friends are becoming weaker and weaker. My will to do anything is diminishing. My life is crumbling
Day 220 - I feel both distain and joy of your love life since we broke up. You can't seem to keep anyone around you
Day 240 - trying to rebuild my self esteem and a bond with my closest friends
Day 260 - once again confiding in the wrong people and leading others on
Day 270 - found my anthem, my song that will get me through this pain and will show me that I won't be tortured by this anymore, not today

Day 300 - slowly rebuilding my life, each day reminding myself that this too shall pass
Day 330 - the thought of you is one of distain and regret
Day 365 - a whole year, and still the nights torture me with regret, sorrow, and loneliness. I have only a song to get me through and it is becoming not enough.
Day 380 - happy birthday wishes were not sent
Day 390 - the cold nights make me miss you more than I should. December is a hard time for a break up

Day 400 - I thought I'd found love but it was too selfish and not selfless
Day 420 - feeling good, my friends are close and scarves are wrapped tightly around my neck for warmth
Day 430 - I finally feel free
Day 440 - my freedom has been revoked as the mind torments my soul with unrequited love for another
Day 460 - Most of my time is spent without you anywhere on my mind. I seem to have virtually forgotten you until I am reminded. Though when I am reminded, it is a flood.
Day 480 - the thought of you is one of nostalgia

Day 500 - today someone I went to high school with asked me if I was still dating 'that girl'. I said no, and they asked what her name was, as they seem to have forgotten.
I say, “Allison…..”
Silence for about fifteen seconds
They ask, “which one?”
“I… I'm… Drawing a blank,” stunned, I say, “I can't believe I can't think of her last name!”
When it finally comes to me, I feel embarrassed. I quickly end the conversation and leave.
I get in my car and then I realize what just happened.

Me forgetting her name, that was me getting over her. That was me finally being okay with my decision. Finally being secure with myself, and finally moving on.

Day 530 - even today, writing this I feel nothing more than nostalgia for our time together. It was wonderful but ended poorly, unfortunately.
I have no intentions of contacting you, and apparently neither you to me. Though, I hope you are well.
This has been one month of true freedom, the longest since we broke up. So I wrote this to celebrate. I hope you see how much you meant to me, and realize both how little, you make it seem, you cared about me and how much pain this has caused me over the past 500 days.
I apologize for the length, though if you did stick through it I both commend and thank you. Stay strong.
Today my face shattered.

Every fleck of skin
A memory,
I am an intricate collage  
Of our time together.

Every part of my body
I am just a trillion
Tiny pieces
Floating around the room.

There isn’t a part of me
That you didn’t know,
Didn’t touch.

I can’t find anywhere in me
That you didn’t invade.

The private comforts
And hidden parts
Of my body,
Tea, pens, candles, antiques, beer, work gloves, socks, and scarves,
They all have memories of you there.
I can’t enjoy the things
That make me feel happy
Without feeling you hiding there.

Today I shattered,
And every microscopic piece
Shivering in the sunlight
You touched.
cleo Apr 5
in a space of collection stood
bright walls with wooden clocks
and jumbled records, on white carpet
with citrus candles, below
silk scarves and
photos of the sky.

bland candles
next to unread books
and sterile walls, which towered
broken clocks and thinning fabric.
This silent space, was
built by a deliberate, empty hand
Billie Aug 15
Prodigious piles of purses,
Sparse shelves of scarves,
Boutique or bedroom closet.
Bargain or luxury.
Are you satisfied?
While they noticed the stretch of kohl in her eyes,
I could see a pacific of emotions trapped.
While they admired her blushing cheeks,
I could read the paleness she painted red.
While they were going gaga over her smirk,
I could fathom the depth of pain that debarred a hearty gale.
While they were lured by the cascade of her hair when she unscrewed the bun,
I could feel the onus of the tantrums she wanted to turf out.
While they were hypnotized by her mesmeric curves,
I was stunned by the withstanding efficacy of such a fragile body.
While they adored her attire and scarves,
I could trace the bruises she carried with poise.
While they were hung up by the glory of her face,
I could do no help but ride out at the scars she concealed with sprightliness which was the most beautiful thing my eyes could ever have a view of and it left me dazed...
And my mouth wide opened.
-Aparajita Tripathi
Joy Oct 2018
Autumn came quickly this year.
The skies tinted themselves gray.
The children were suddenly
under three layers of clothing.
I noticed I drank hot tea
instead of iced coffee.
My summer dresses
were replaced by my favorite
grubby sweaters.
Scarves flew in formation
to guard my neck from the cold air.
My music playlist went
from rock and roll
to acoustic.
I promised this autumn,
sadness will not strike.
I promised to leave
summer paralysis
back on the beach.
I was not to fall off
like the yellow leaves
from the oak outside my dorm.
You met me on my way to lecture.
You were cowarding
under three layers of clothing,
eyes tinted gray.
You were giving off
the scent of exhaustion.
You said I looked as if I were out to conquer the world.
You said I was armed with my algebra textbook.
I said you looked in harmony with the weather.
You laughed.
I believe you meant to stab me with that laugh.
To remind me how in August
your blue eyes did not want me.
But it's October.
And I'm detached from the thirst for you.
Autumn came so quickly this year
it made you irrelevant.
October turned your blue eyes
a negligible splash of gray,
made you fall off
like a yellow leaf
from the oak outside my dorm,
blurred you with the backdrop.
Autumn came so quickly,
October painted my green summer eyes
a fiesty, burning yellow,
a flame in contrast to the tinted sky,
made my footsteps soothing
like an acoustic guitar,
made my lips taste like hot tea in my own mouth.
I dream of apostrophes
And green grass in the spring
I dream of apples and apostles that laugh openly
I feel the river running deep beneath the earth
And I hear your heartbeat telling me all is well
We are forever telling stories
Of how we are not loved enough
What if we revised them
To speak of all that’s done with cheer and mirth
Come make a song and sing it to the leaves
We are infinite beings
Ebbing and flowing in the breeze
Consciousness embarks on silent walks
While at dusk my love for you thrusts
From my chest like a knife
But I'm not nearly as bold or as blunt as you
To tell you what a fool I have become
We are bundled in our blankets
And wrapped tight in these scarves and gloves
Poems surround us and keep us safe
From the coolness of the air
Yet we remain unconscious of our power
And snore a little louder
As every hour we approach a little nearer
To the final moments of our life
Amaris Jul 24
You gave me silken scarves and solitude
To weave my own bindings
You gave me surpluses of satin
Bandages for skin you broke
You gave me Swarovski accessories
As if it excused your absences
You gave me smooth apologies
A salve to my twisted fingers
Those days, Those days
in Prashanti, not a care in the world
waiting for the Lord of the Universe

Rainbow sequined saris flutter like
colorful prayer flags
in the sultry, warm breezes

Women devotees, buzzing honeybees,
breathlessly squeeze into granite window openings
outside the mandir
straining to see, hoping their adoring eyes
will be blessed by the nectarine vision of Sai Avatar

Seva Dal angels in vivid orange and yellow scarves
manage to bridle the swooning, burgeoning, euphoric
crowds with spirited "Sairam, Sairams"

O Baba
what we wouldn't give for a chance to once more
see your airborne Lotus feet floating towards us
on the golden sands of Puttaparthi

Reverently, I press my fingertips to my eyelids
taking padnamaskar
these orbs, these orbs
once gazed upon the holy sight of
Bhagavan Sri Sathya Sai Baba
OnwardFlame Sep 2018
You stood against the wall
Your hair pulled up like
You don't take the time to wash it.

I swept in like a flame
My London Fog on
Waving into the air with fingertips
Crystals on ice
My body craves your touch
But I nod and side step.

You didn't stay long
We sort of said
Do you remember when
At the end
I said "to be continued.."
And you thought that meant I wanted you
In my bed.

Maybe I sorta did
Dishes shattered to the pavement that day
Your eyes large and full of dusk
Another one of my relationships
Ending right on the cusp.

It is chilly now
I think of the pants and scarves
And the autumnal things
That make me up.

She's blowin' up she's hitting that pave--
I twirl into my own prisms
Batons of fire in either palm
Don't come close unless
Your heart is open.
astraea Sep 2018
i can hear it now -the pine needles making a soft carpet and the leaves rustling,
dancing with their partners and laying with the soft crunches.
and there were rivers, rustling along the beds and laughing,
growing deeper and flowing to the sea.

we’d pile in the car, and run through the forest,
let the cool air kiss our faces, run shivering to warm buildings,
drink the warm cider and wrap scarves around each other.
it was warmer than summer would ever be.

i can see it now -the sunlight streaming through the trees,
trees and rivers i learned to make time for,
and us holding hands as we looked for directions,
the road stretching before us and hills rolling with golden leaves.

sunlight streamed through my classroom windows,
as i ran to school in boots, stepping towards my friends,
sitting huddled with each other,
because we felt whole.

i can smell it now -the fires, soft and warm and comforting.
we’d stop at these towns, low river towns, and look around in awe.
how could you live here, where the leaves are always gold? where the cold river runs so deep?
where the drink are so warm? where the clouds hang above you?

have you seen the sea in autumn? it turns grey and the sky grows cold. yet, the boat rides,
in the stinging sea air, seem all the more fun. and yet, the market smells all the more warm,
as the children walk around in wonderment,
gloved hands clutched tightly with their parents.

i can breathe it in now -the loneliness of a world that seems to be in it’s twilight,
but in reality is simply content to drive the mornings away, stopping to see cold buildings,
and allow the leafy afternoons to sink into an evening, where the lamps turn on,
and we sit in watch the stars in the gorge at night.

now, i remember, how much i loved all of you. we could listen to soft banjo music,
eat our sandwiches in the warm car, dress up and step into the autumn chill,
we’d explore any village and taste their hot chocolate, then stay as long as we wanted.
and then we’d move on.
to my family.
inspired by: pale nov. dew (the dead tongues)
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