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blkorchid Aug 2018
leave my heart in a casket
where it's safe and sound
will someone catch it for me
no pain is evident in this film of life
flames progress high
while the wings of the phoenix
take flight striding by the moonlight
never looking at the reflection
haunting the mirrors of the sea
that flows beneath
leaving me with nothing
more to cling to other than the
fears that were meant to dream
wounds that were never meant
to be found and were meant to
be drowned leaving me
alone to take the crown
© rainbows and sunshine 2018
Medusa Jan 19
She’s a Super Hero in a pink cape
But her rages are real and I must
Take her tiny form quivering
In fury

As righteous as any giant
Striding the planet, feelings
Often more enormous
Shaped as children
Arianna Feb 11
Errant* hands,
But no error do they make,
Nor falter in their steps

Traveling west
          Across the blooming meadows
          Of roses brightening your cheek;

Tracing east
          Through the dark curtains of
          Of moss curling soft over your face;

Wandering south
          Across the steady terrain of your heart
          And the waterfall trails skipping gracefully down the lines of your form;

And striding north,
          To your raven-eyed crown,
          Where I see You, twinkling
          In the stars chosen from heaven
          To light up your eyes.
* = "Errant" here is used in the literary sense of "wandering" or "itinerant, rather than to indicate erroneousness or moral depravity.

For a Blue Sparrow. :-) This came to mind while navigating back to the hostel by memory after my phone died, thinking about the directions, looking for landmarks, and you know... Just thinking. ;-)
I want to burn up all my time
Because this **** happens nearly every night
Every time I close my eyes
It's your face that fills my sight

I think this might be trauma
Or maybe it's karma
Coming to steal my heart
And it lures me in with your voice

I ride this roller coaster of
Different emotions every day
I know they're in my head
But I never have a say

It takes time to come back down
Is all that my friends can preach
It'll be okay, Brandon, as long
As I keep trying to make the reach

And sometimes I believe that
And sometimes I can allow it
So I keep walking, sometimes striding
To keep myself from checking out

But all that said, I'm never fine
And I'm never at ease or at rest
Sometimes these thoughts of you are torture
As I'm still trying to be my best

And maybe it's for myself
And maybe it's to show you that I can
But the reason honestly doesn't matter
As long as I'm better in the end
Emma Jan 19
Right now it is easy to love you.

You crawl into my arms, and let their strength pretend to shield you.

You let me press my lips to your temple and act as though I can comfort you,

Your head tucked against my breast.

I love you fluently,

Feeling your patterns flow over my hands, their weft and weave,

Like god in their clarity and warmth.

I cannot spin us into what we want, each of those things so opposite.

And I can buoy you now, but without you near it creeps upon me again and

I am so afraid.

I see it striding confidently forward, coming down the road to meet us,

Neither a swagger nor a barrel, but

The ineluctable approach of the pain that will crush me again.

I left you.

Couldn’t you have let me?

Because I don’t believe that you want me.

And when this passes, as it must, you will cut me to ribbons.
You are scissors -
steel blades striding
over ***** flesh,
sinking like boots into mud -
geysers of frothing blood.

Trip and rust in my guts
you *******;
then sleep in my innards.

first the city
ate an adjacent town then

put out a suburb
like a great paw

a factory

devoured a well known
beauty spot

that was soon
forgotten as such

ate a field and
ate another field

the city's hunger
fed by greed

sent out pylons
striding across countryside

like giant
alien beings

vomiting asphalt
so that green was as if

it had
never been

its scenic magnificence
now only available

in an out of print
1930's guide book

even its memory
dying now with old Joe Hart

who managed to make it
past the hundred mark

the town he was born in
no longer to be seen

except in sepia
or Kodachrome

a picture postcard
(3 for 2)

in the bright new


The title is supplied by one Seneca the Younger (c. 4 BC – AD 65) that well known and renowned Roman Stoic philosopher, statesman, dramatist.
Michael 6d
Rest in Country

We'd just lobbed into Vungers from the Dat on R & C,
Innocently strolling was **** Knight and me,
Across the Flags to the Some-Such Bar wherein the girls drank 'tea'.

And I can still see Max beside me striding to the Some-Such Bar,
With the baby-sans about him going just that bit too far,
With their practiced tugs and pleadings going just that bit too far.

And of course among the baby-sans the cowboys moved in too,
Which didn't worry me too much my cash was in my shoe,
But Max was Max and in those days, not like me and you.

‘Watch your wallet, mate,’ says I, ‘in case it comes to harm.’
‘No fear of that’ says mighty Max with patriotic charm,
Then he tucked a cowboy baby-san beneath one brawny arm.

Well! 'You silly ****** put him down’ but Max went like a rocket;
'I'm off to find the White Mice 'cos this *******'s picked me pocket.’
And I groaned aloud because I knew that me and him would cop it.

Sure enough, there gathered round an angry, shouting throng,
In Asia you don't maltreat kids, no matter right or wrong;
Believe you me our lives that day depended on that throng.

And I got hit with an iron bar (the hat protected my head),
Whilst Max had a pistol ****** into his belly and really should be dead,
And across the Flags M.P's I saw, turned white in craven dread.

Australians too, those coppers but no good to Max and me;
The gutless ******* turned about just so they might not see
The riot raging fiercely now about my mate and me.

I'd say forty upright citizens we met that Vung Tau day.
Policemen, soldiers, rascals, all with us two in affray;
Those Aussie ******, save our lives? They'd turned themselves away.

Thank Christ the mob stayed leaderless, our riot's end surprise;
And the cowardly action of those two? 'twas blessing in disguise,
For a Yankee Jeep barged through the mob and drawled 'in here, you guys'.

It barged back out then drove full speed to the end of R&C
Where the Major spoke severely to **** Knight and me.
While quietly back at the Some-Such Bar the girls sat drinking tea.

This is doggerel, of course, but it is also a description of what happened to me and a digger from my section.
Chris Jan 4
Wandering and loudly dreaming,
Think I better than believing,
Any stray path, so deceiving,
No matter how brightly clear,

Walking further calm and breathing,
Air so sweet and smoke misleading,
Never shall it spark the meaning,
That so often comes with fear.

Paradise is where I'm striding,
Whether downpour or sun be shining,
And I don't find myself denying,
The cost of my freedoms gleam,

To ****, to fire or to battle,
Towards the snake's tail that rattles,
When the mirror finally shatters,
You too will know, it's just a dream.
S O P H I E Jan 27
with an accent of blood
a foreign tongue
vowels that sound of metal clashing
with fire flowing through her veins
armor for skin
feet that crush the earth beneath her
with electricity streaks through her hair
iron filled lungs
each breath invitingly toxic
with lips of silk
a voice cut from steel
thunder and war in her bones
with a grin made for battle
eyes speckled in ash
striding, powerful into the arms of death.
Anthony Esposito Oct 2018
I wonder if you’d care to explain yourself?
    Not to make any off handed suggestion.
But I’m curious of how you draw so much attention?
      You don’t seem to belong.
You haven’t even a resemblance of class.
       I wonder if anyone’s ever told you?
How would that even come to pass ?
       And what’s worse is you don’t seem to care.
Haven’t you got any shame?
        Or do you hide in plain site wearing your pain?
I wonder what goes through your head?
        When you act how you do.
Teasing the boys cause you like how it feels.
        Spotlight on you like the sun always shining.
While all the boys you’ve hurt sit somewhere crying.
        Your striding with a smile while inside your dying.
I wonder what love would help you be sill.
        Or are you like a bird free and at your own will.
Amanda Dec 2018
Loving this life
Didn’t choose it, feels random
Picked a different path last week
Right or wrong?
Going to deal with trouble and strife
Trying to get the correct arithmetic sum
That will add up. Will it make me feel weak
Or Strong?
Choices can be a chance or planned
But always leads to a spider web of sticky roads
An adventure of possible endings
Good or bad?
Striding through life’s shifting sand
You can’t head straight as a flight of crows
The journey is the beginning of wonderful chosen things
Choices made?

— The End —