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Corvus Mar 2018
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the slow braking of a car,
A seamless transition from driving to a standstill.
Sometimes you need to slam on.
And it never happens silently,
There's always a screech or a thud or a gasp,
It takes you by surprise and it lurches you forward.
You have to hold on for dear life.
The unexpected nature of it wreaks havoc on your insides;
Butterflies are woken up from your stomach and become nausea.
You check to see if all your limbs are intact, or in fragments.
Then you do the same for your heart,
Searching to see if it went through the windshield
Or if it managed to stay held inside by your unyielding ribs,
Only ever collapsing under the strain of breaths,
Hyperventilating into an airbag.
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the steady sigh of relief,
It's the jagged, shaky breaths that never fully extend
In or out, and there's no calming halt afterwards,
Just a process of continuously hitting the brakes.
Jude Nov 2018
i dreamt of you once again-
i wish i had not woken up.
The vestigial four o'clock light
nudges me awake
and my eyes obey.
For a moment,
I have no recollection
of where it is that I lie,
until I hear the rasp
in your voice
make the gentlest rumble.
A chill runs down my spine
as I am reminded of the night prior.
I turn over
to blanket myself
in your warmth,
and it seems as though
I have just woken up
to a dream.
Shofi Ahmed Apr 21
The sky is eye wide open
so bright a lapis lazuli hue.
The houri fair maid of heaven
colour in every shade of blue,
up to the door, she must have come through.

See the rosy spring's
blue bees are on their wings.
Ah, the sweet flowing southern breeze
wafts along with the blue bees.
It must have thought,
humming up on a high they go,
but no!  

The long deep-sea burst deeper
sweeping through the land the rivers dance.
By now the silent land’s sleeping beauty
must have woken by the mellifluous water nymphs.
The bottom is a far cry the water is still cascading
so are the blue bees softly descending.
Beneath the open heaven’s painting
into the honey spring, the punters take a peep.
Amy H Mar 30
a wild heart can’t be broken,
a tame heart keeps the beat,
a heart like yours is spoken
within the sensual heat.
it’s sensitive and open
but careful and neat;
love in the smallest tokens,
the gestures we repeat.
so take the love that’s woken
into your soul so sweet-
a melody unbroken-
and make your mind’s retreat.
For Dollface.
SteamPhunk Feb 2018
Wednesday, 14th of February 2018, 7.00pm,
" breaking news, a mass-shooting happened today in Florida, American authorities are calling this the worst school shooting in U.S.A's history "
6 minutes and 20 seconds,
That's all it took,
17 confirmed dead,
15 injured,
Countless more lives ruined,
All in under 10 minutes,
No parent should ever have to hug their child,
So tight,
Just because it might be the last time they'll ever say goodbye,
No kid should ever have to be afraid of their school hallway,
Or be afraid of who's standing in the classroom doorway,
No kid should ever wonder if this day will be their last,
And no parent should ever have to bury their kid,
Six feet out of their reach,
So this is for Scott,
And for Alyssa,
For Martin,
And for Nicholas,
Not forgetting Aaron,
This goes to Chris,
And Luke,
For Cara,
And for Gina,
Joaquin and Alaina,
Meadow, Helena, and Alex,
Carmen and Peter,
You are all in our hearts,
Let's face it,
The Floridian community of Douglas,
Will never go back to " normal "
So, Washington? Trump?
Riddle us this?
When is this going to be added to your list of " proud American traditions "?
There are too many heavy hearts,
Too many dark days,
Too much chaos and confusion,
For this to be swept under the carpet again,
Just like the last time,
We weren't even a quarter of the way into 2018,
Yet there had already been over 30 mass-shootings since the beginning of January,
So here's to the people who aren't accepting the truth,
Who are too " confused " to realize what's going on,
For the people who haven't woken up to the fact,
That there were unidentified bodies,
Sitting cold in that school for over 24-hours,
And do not tell me I am too young to know what I'm talking to you about,
I stand alongside Emma Gonzalez and the hundreds of young people across the globe,
This isn't just for our lives,
This is for everyone's lives,
Since when did " don't shoot children " become such a controversial statement?
Since when did school safety become a debatable, two-sided matter?
So I will join my fellow marchers,
And yell loudly and unapologetically,
Until they hear our voices,
In the words of Emma Gonzalez,
Adults like it when we have strong test scores,
But not when we have strong opinions,
We are Marching For Our Lives,
And this is our legacy.
#enoughisenough #thisendsnow #Iwillmarch #marchforourlives
Hae Sun Aug 2018
I could’ve woken you up in the morning and could’ve been the sun that rises even when we both live in a place where it never does.
I could’ve taken you to museums, at least 2 of where I’ve been to. The first one, we’ll have to take the bus because I’d tell you that I’m too lazy to drive but for the second one, I will tell you that I’ll drive you there.
My car would look at me as though it knows that there is another soul seating in the passenger seat – it was no longer some books, a box of pizza, or my dog.
I could’ve taken photos of you in that place, post them everywhere but subtly so that they can see that there are at least 2 forms of art in that photo — the one you’re looking at and the one I’m looking at.
I could’ve talked to you at night under the stars, in the same rooftop where I told you that I liked the cathartic experience of doing just what we could’ve done; the same rooftop where you talked about your life, at least some pieces of it.
I could’ve brought you to where I used to study. We could’ve walked the halls that stared at me for being too alone and too lonely only so I could tell them, “Hey, here he is, finally.” and they could’ve smiled at me because they know how long the longing lasted.
We could’ve taken a stroll in the shade of the trees or could’ve had a picnic there while watching the joggers and the sunset.
I could’ve introduced you to my friends – they’ve been meaning to meet you. They too know how long I’ve been stuck on an island by myself. They know who I was when I was eleven and when I was sixteen and I bet, if you gave them a chance, you could’ve heard the crazy things we did.
And maybe they could’ve liked you. They could’ve told me how lucky I was and probably would’ve warned me that if I hurt you, they’d stick with you instead of me.
I could’ve introduced you to my family — my mom liked you even then. I could’ve introduced you to my little brother who I would consider as the biggest and most important judge of character because I believe that children can sense goodness in people and he could’ve seen that in you.
I could’ve written you letters, could’ve left random little tokens I would've used for all the words I cannot muster to say.
I could’ve played the piano for you even if I just know, at most, 3 songs; even though I don’t really know how to read notes at all.
I could’ve introduced you to the artists I like and I could’ve known more of yours. I could’ve listened to them and I would have had to remember you every time.
I could’ve held your hand, could’ve eaten brunch with you, could’ve read you a poem.
I could’ve loved you — could have – if I was the given the chance.
But, I was and I could’ve used it but I didn’t.
my idea of an “us”
Corvus Jan 2017
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the slow braking of a car,
A seamless transition from driving to a standstill.
Sometimes you need to slam on.
And it never happens silently,
There's always a screech or a thud or a gasp,
It takes you by surprise and it lurches you forward.
You have to hold on for dear life.
The unexpected nature of it wreaks havoc on your insides;
Butterflies are woken up from your stomach and become nausea.
You check to see if all your limbs are intact, or in fragments.
Then you do the same for your heart,
Searching to see if it went through the windshield
Or if it managed to stay held inside by your unyielding ribs,
Only ever collapsing under the strain of breaths,
Hyperventilating into an airbag.
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the steady sigh of relief,
It's the jagged, shaky breaths that never fully extend
In or out, and there's no calming halt afterwards,
Just a process of continuously hitting the brakes.
Old.
Regan Jun 2017
The look of your eyes when you look at the stars reflects so much hope. When you grab my hand and pull me closer it feels perfect, as if the stars were aligned in that moment. When you hold my hand and guide me to god-knows where, I feel needed.
The touch.
The smell.
The adrenaline rushing through our heads.
And the moment is gone. I've woken up, from a fantasy that only occurs in my head.
Gasp of morning air flows through my lungs as reality hits again.
And I know it is only a fantasy my mind wanders to every so often.

© Regan
A quick poem I wrote. Please check out my other poems once they are published.
This was my first poem and I am very, VERY surprised at my growth and improvement of my poetry.
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
A new Prometheus breaks through
with the light not taken from the sun
but from an unknown forgotten one.
Not up from the sky nor from down
the bottom of the ocean, rose from the null!
  
The witty one then shows up
like a candle, flame on the mirror!
Everything around it starts fading
except the flame in front of the mirror.
More and more eyeballs look
on it only to be sure
anything like it was never seen before!
  
By now the world woken up at the first light
perhaps except the one who could tell the truth
what was that looking in the mirror?
Everyone's guess was as good as other's
Kairee F Aug 2018
Have you ever woken up from a dream
where you didn’t realize you were asleep?
Where one minute,
you think you are rolling around in bed,
frustrated that you’ve woken up at 4am,
wishing you could magically get the screams in your head
to diminish to a whisper,
but an alarm grasps at your eyelids
until you realize that you’ve awoken
and were asleep all along?

Is that what this life is right now?
Am I going to wake up one day,
and suddenly the insecurities,
the unimportance,
the nothingness,
and the apathy
will be gone?
Will I wake up and stop being an afterthought?
Your I’m-here-for-you’s,
I’ll-help-keep-you-busy’s,
and I’ve-been-praying-for-you’s
don’t mean anything to me anymore.

I finally have everything I have been awaiting
for years,
but it's not enough anymore,
and yet,
here I am – again–
realizing the only friend I can trust
is myself.

I finished high school a decade ago;
I thought I was too old for this now.
I talk softly to not be heard,
Please God’s ears hear these words.
Be my guardian and watch my day,
Be with me at night and never stray.
The slightest hint of your presence gives me strength;
To hold my head up high to escape life’s stench,
I’m in a nightmare of the world…
I can’t be woken by a pinch.
Monsters are everywhere…some with Angel faces,
Trying hard to steer my tongue…
far away from my Graces.
I talk softly to not be heard,
Please God’s ears hear these words.
I’m like prey…there’s many wolves…they all want a piece,
Speaking loud would cause attention…
And have Evil notice me.
Alone I can’t survive…
I need your love to cover me.
I talk softly to not be heard,
Please God’s ears hear these words.
When you are with me…
I fear no tomorrow;
I can raise my voice to all Pain and Sorrow,
And give thanks to my Lord for the time let borrowed.
Now I feel you with me…I can feel the surge;
I feel the need…I must be heard,
Evil ears must hear these words.
I’m no longer the prey...I will not sit and hide;
I will stand my ground and pull deep from inside,
The power of God and see the world's beautiful side.
Thank you for reading
s Oct 2016
in the few moments that linger between awake and asleep my mind cannot help but wander to places like the thought of you

the thought of you and the thought of playing with your hair and the thought of holding your hand is what barely keeps me conscious when i'm too tired to stay up and yet too sad to sleep

it's dark and i'm lying down and what else do i do but think of you until i don't realize when i've fallen asleep and then it's 12 in the afternoon and none of my alarms have woken me up

there's a fine line between awake and asleep and you're treading on it and i want nothing more than to sleep but i can't because i keep thinking about that one time we fell asleep holding hands and how you were still holding onto mine even when my palms started to sweat and my arms began to cramp

and in the dark i think of you and i think of how i want to hold you and how i want to look at the stars with you again and how that night we didn't even have to say anything because just being in each other's presence was enough to know exactly how we felt and how i wasn't brave enough to act on it and now i think of all the things i wanted to say and left unsaid
Steve Aug 20
The moon slipped down
Drawn to the ground
The sun stepped up
And raised a cup
A rooster called the day to order
Down near the Mexican border
Where I was woken
By the unspoken
Eyes open, sleep broken
Back soaking, near choking
No joking
Heed the call from a wailing wall
Too high to climb
Too far to fall.
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