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Shashi Jan 2017
It was a moment of destruction,
that created something beautiful.

When your eyes met mine,
for the first time

Love was created,
and the heart....  destroyed !!
Short Tales of Love #1
Outside Words Sep 2018
tiny elves in my backyard on my stoop -
“PLEASE SIR, MAY WE HAVE SOME SOUP?”

running out from between blades of grass,
they shouted in unison with a burly crass:

“YOU MUST UNDERSTAND, IT'S A TUESDAY NIGHT,”
“AND TUESDAYS ARE SPECIAL IN ELVEN LIFE!”

“sorry sir, soup is not for elves; mommy said!”

“DON'T LISTEN TO THAT OLD BAT,
IT'S LATE AND SHE'S IN BED…

...WE COME TO YOU IN NEED OF NOURISHMENT!”

“but, I’m just a kid and mommy discourages it!”

i said in my biggest voice, for the 900th time
as they threw up their arms, like I’d committed a crime!

running around in a mass,
they ran back, with such sass,
through the leaves in a big hurry -
on a hunt for soup they scurried...
© Outside Words
Joanna May 16
Small and beautiful, wild and free, so tiny yet enduring you fascinate me.

Spotted black and red or black and white, you appear out of nowhere to brighten my night.

And I wonder if that isn’t just natures way, to get our attention off ourselves and on to the new day.
To read more of my writings go to: http://reflectionsoflight7.wixsite.com/home
zm Nov 2018
atop my tiny raft I float
moving with the waves
ebbing with the ocean

my raft is small
but it chooses to float
a promise we agreed upon

the ocean is loud
and I can find myself
capsized with my boat

but once the storm is done
I flip my raft over
and begin to float once more

z.m.
a beckon of hope.
Kaori Dec 2012
Tiny Christs dying
for your sins and perversions
Look them in the eyes
Begin,
   We see in this moment,

Broken,
   Spoken our ductaped fixes,

The trajectory of the bricks is straight for my heart.

Break apart the arts I've invented in my mind,

Of which you're the inspiration.

Perspiration running down my face,
   As I realize my place in the world.

No space for a broken mind and shrunken heart.

Pull apart the synapses that hold me together,

It's as if,
   Things almost got better...

We all coast to the end of our tracks,
   Via the cracks in our walls.

Who falls through?
   We never know.

It just goes to show,

The most we've ever known,
  is never sleep alone.

~Robert van Lingen
elizabeth Oct 2014
ever so often, so occasionally
i find myself slipping comfortably
back into my little retreat, a shell
in which i have come to call home.
i call out to you to come and join me,
you don’t listen. i am screaming, but you
can’t hear me. it is as if i am a hollow vessel
and an empty head. i am always wishing that
i could be more than what i am but this is all
that i can give. and so i retreat for i would rather
give nothing at all than to give something that is
destined to fail, because why shoot for the stars when you know you are simply going to fall back to earth?
Harry lights another cigarette
Amy's dog died at the vet
Peter made Amy upset
Paul wrote up another check
Yolanda made another bet

Amy slams Peter to the ground
Peter utters a horrifying sound
Riley drives out-of-town
Ingrid raids the lost-and-found
Larry wears Ingrid's stolen crown

Fabio plays a riff on the sax
Ophelia fails to pay her income tax
Oliver blurs the cold, hard facts
Larry has trouble trying to relax
Sergio takes a few steps back



Melody
4/1/19
If you read the initial letters of each line, you'll understand the point that I'm trying to make.
Moe Jun 20
those tiny circles
you pretend to draw on my skin
always make me smile
The Sky is all getting dark
And in my bed, we're having fun
But I know, darling, you're no mine
So baby, baby, goodbye

Oh the Wind is getting cold
And my music and soul, they're old
But I know, darling, I'll be fine
So baby, let's dance tonight

And the Moon is getting bright
My body and mood, they feel light
But I know, darling, we're alright
So baby, I wish you good night
Callie Richter Sep 2018
today
during school
this kid in my class
that i barely talk to
walked up to me
and put his fingers
around my bicep
as if he was
measuring
how small i've
gotten
Alyssa Underwood Feb 2016
Awakening will find me
through the daily mundane
faith's step in front of tiny step
for the sake of Christ's great name
Even David the brave did not set out
with a lofty ambition to see the giant slain
but walked forth instead with a servant's heart
obediently for his father, carrying cheese and grain
and as he went in faithfulness about this simple errand
God raised him up with sling and stone to champion His fame
*Inspired by this morning's sermon from Doug Rutt
Jayne E Jun 15
It's the vibration of you
carrying love clear to see
the resonance of two
aligned, us, we, you + me

balance found
the surprising delight of
newly trod fertile ground
the ways we relate
openly communicate
unbinds joy limitless,
and so it abounds

the warmth of your belly skin
against my cheek laid dear
tender caresses do begin
with your warmest embraces
as you draw me in closer, near

breath carried tiny kisses
infinite in number
bringing too
a newly found peace
I am content and renewed
curled in your arms to slumber

emotional landscapes
painted in hues of affection
open hearts open minds
receptive & kind
no need of deflection

or even protection
safe, warm, happy at peace
to discover this sweeter love
and  true loves release.

J.C. honey-tiger 15/06/2019.
ThatBrokenOne Dec 2018
What is life?
How do we know we live?
Why do we live?

Isn't it just one big illusion,
Or a big dream,
Or just a mere fantasy.

Sometimes life feels so empty,
It feels like it doesn't exists,
And yet it does.

Sometimes it feels like on big joke,
It feels like we are being controlled,
Like the Sims people in the Sims.

Sometimes I like to think about how small we are,
And yet are the rulers of the earth,
Although we are destroying it.

Are we really alone in this existence,
Is there no one else out there,
Not even the tiniest piece of life of some sort?

When I think about those things,
I feel so small and vulnerable,
I feel like the real me that I am.

Tiny and small.
It doesn't matter who I am.
As I am one little dot in this entire existence.

Or is it even an existence?
Am I really a live?
Does it really all exist?

Or is it just my fantasy,
Like a drawing of a little kid,
Who draws stones with faces.

Are we really existing?
And if so, why do we?
Who are we?
What are we?
Where are we?

I know who I am, I know what I am, I know where I am.
I am me, I am what I am, I am where I am.
It is what makes me me, humble and small.
It poured a heavenly rain today
The roads washed anew
Little streams danced and slid down the alleys to the music rains play

The Gulmohar petals in orange red hues
Lay strewn on the pavement grey
Perched atop the green leaves
Glorious they looked in the warm sun rays

A walk in the evening mellowed rains
The tiny raindrops fell gently upon my face And raincoat peach
Luminous  under the street lamps
Silvery Rain-beams dance
21st June - Rains
b for short Nov 2018
There’s a tiny box
that sits on the shelf in his room.
So small, it rarely gets noticed.
What’s inside would shock you.
The desires he wishes
he didn’t have are in there,
next to all of the times he felt
insufficient.
Beside those, there sits all of the
embarrassments he suffered
when he chose to take his
clothes off—
the time he too quickly lost
his virginity, perhaps.
Next to his nakedness,
propped up against the far side,
is a small, sad pile of muted grey ash.
A closer look would show
all the love he freely gave
and could never get back.
And although it may never catch
the typical eye,
folded up in the dusty shadow
in the back left corner
of that tiny box
is me.
I am in this box too.
Jumbled between unwanted desires,
and intimate regrets, I wonder
if this home is my choice.
I wait for the tiny box to open;
to feel admired;
to be more than a shelved secret;
to feel a starved gaze;
to breathe fresh air.
I wait for the tiny box to open.
I wait.
© Bitsy Sanders, November 2018
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