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Here to heal and share my thoughts with those who relate. Life's not meant to be lived alone - let's heal together.
Poems
Seán Mac Falls May 2019
Little Moon
Seán Mac Falls
May 2019
.
She speaks in tongues and earthwards—
Angels fall listening how to know divinity
From lips that open and close as do tides
Slip, blooming with the face of the moon.
She walks in airs of splendour and light—
Shoulders kin, her child riding on a beam
Vanquishing the sun with celebrated night
Set in reflection on lake waters, little moon.
.
She speaks in tongues and earthwards—
Angels fall listening how to know divinity
From lips that open and close as do tides
Slip, blooming with the face of the moon.
She walks in airs of splendour and light—
Shoulders kin, her child riding on a beam
Vanquishing the sun with celebrated night
Set in reflection on lake waters, little moon.
.
ray Jun 2014
"come home"
ray
Jun 2014
a guilty wave of my past enters my mind
sloshing around, tidal emotion.
i see the man pulled over on the sidewalk fixing his bike for 48 hours and i see
the mothers walking with mothers, lonely but not alone
i see the ******* sun which i've been staring at for the last 20 minutes waiting to rise and i see you,
in all the ways we'll never be again
it's shouting at me to come home
but i've tried too many times
sadly missing you no longer comes in waves
i feel it in tsunami tides
sloshing around, tidal emotion.
i see the man pulled over on the sidewalk fixing his bike for 48 hours and i see
the mothers walking with mothers, lonely but not alone
i see the ******* sun which i've been staring at for the last 20 minutes waiting to rise and i see you,
in all the ways we'll never be again
it's shouting at me to come home
but i've tried too many times
sadly missing you no longer comes in waves
i feel it in tsunami tides
Sydney Ranson Jul 2013
Watching A Person Breathe
Sydney Ranson
Jul 2013
In sleep, the lungs balloon.
Air fills their walls and sacs where it can,
like saltwater waves cresting in inhales
and exhales.
They release and crash
as ribs slide tides of breath
shallow within the core,
where we cannot hear the volumes
of the waves that drift us about our nocturnal coma.
of the waves that drift us about our nocturnal coma.that we never feel how far from the shore
we have been taken, up and down.
Our chests, we have moved them
but elsewhere.
The ribs crack like driftwood
in the choppy current, and float
from the diaphragm of the Atlantic into
our chest cavities.
Air fills their walls and sacs where it can,
like saltwater waves cresting in inhales
and exhales.
They release and crash
as ribs slide tides of breath
shallow within the core,
where we cannot hear the volumes
of the waves that drift us about our nocturnal coma.
of the waves that drift us about our nocturnal coma.that we never feel how far from the shore
we have been taken, up and down.
Our chests, we have moved them
but elsewhere.
The ribs crack like driftwood
in the choppy current, and float
from the diaphragm of the Atlantic into
our chest cavities.
While watching a movie in my best friend’s dorm room last year—three of us squeezed on one extra-long twin-sized bed—I realized I missed out on about ten minutes of the movie because I had zoned out on watching them breathe.