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#poem on life
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The Fields Which Lay Silent
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I buried my dreams like bodies,
Murdered,
Diluted,
Mistreated by shadows,
Posing as people,
Ripping away innocence,
All there is to see,
Numb darkness settles like thick fog,
Choking.
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I buried my dreams like bodies,
Friends I lost along the way.
Like crosses growing
Out of screaming memory.
Some I put there, some tried to put me
In those graves where they put my dreams
In the fields of bodies burning,
The screaming has become silent.
Somehow, so much worse.
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I buried my dreams like bodies,
Out in the back yard.
But dreams are persistant pieces of life.
Like seeds, they birthed anew,
Rising forth from ash and bone,
Blood covered roses.
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And I'm there, aren't I?
That's where I lost myself,
Those dreams are me,
The person I thought I was meant to be,
Restored.
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dionyrtal · 2 years
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mother, i am a bat — Dion Anja, from Motion Sickness (2022).
last days of april aka national poetry month and my poems are very fresh indeed. you can get my latest poetry collection Motion Sickness here <3
[TEXT ID:
I'm my mother's eldest daughter & I learned
to be delirious
in her womb. I was a forest & I can't
see the trees.]
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moon-lit-stars · 4 months
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'You make me feel like I'm in a fever dream
Darling you give me whiplash'
All I wanted was the easy kind of love
The kind of feelings people wrote about forevermore
But love is a mess and it leaves you in an even bigger mess
It leaves a sour taste in your throat
It leaves.
My every heartbeat calls your name
My every heartline forms your name
My every breath longs for yours
My every nerve yearns for your touch
Would you call this love or delirium?
At nights when I lay awake
I hate how much I miss you yet
Not the you that made us us never the you that made you and I 'us'
But the you that made us you and I
We were almost like Damon and Pythias.
How do I forget the things that are engraved on me?
In a small part of my brain waiting for something to spark it
It lays low not thinking about it ever
But when it comes out it stings like the first time I engraved it on my hide.
You try to say something but hold it back in
Holding it back till it eats you up inside
You know letting it out would be like poking a sleeping dragon
There are 99 outcomes to letting it out and 98 of them end in disasters
Disrupting the smug peace that settles.
So I let the words die in my throat
Unexplained and never heard
How do you let them out without knowing the intensity they hold?
The power to comprehend words was always foreign to me
So I kill the words and stay thoughtless instead.
I miss so many people at the same time that I think
I'm more the version of them I remember
Than myself.
Reasons and excuses sound the same when it's a matter of heart
You fall in love once but it kills you a thousands times.
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arseekh-kebab · 17 days
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a Wilhelm Trübner painting called “Neuburg Gates, Heidelberg (1913)”, that reminded me of a Wendy Cope poem I read a long while ago called “After The Lunch”.
Trübner was a German realist painter and grew an affinity with, as well as, mastered landscape paintings. i discovered his brilliance through wikiart.org. Cope, on the other hand, belongs to the contemporary times and is well-known for her short, witty, moving poetry. i wish i could take a peek into the brains of both artists while they were creating these pieces, watch their thoughts move and form, capture their relevance in real time.
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yuki-draws · 2 months
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just a snowflake seeing it fall a beautiful sight to take loved by almost all a simple snowflake shows life shows death, shows strife as it is so beautiful but melts away in your palm it is pitiful to see it die amidst the calm
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eve-e-jane · 3 months
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A Poem on Lull
From amateur poet:
The lull of a group
Of people, on loop
Is pleasing and soft
Unless there’s a baby involved
But even then,
I know
They’re learning too,
To enjoy the lull
Of people, on loop.
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poetry-universes · 7 months
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13idyllic · 1 year
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we are wired to seek human connection but are always truly alone
o nature what is this hypocrisy of yours?
words are like knives and bullets that keep hurting us more
even the good ones are twisted by the insecurity of own
loved ones hurt more than strangers but we're supposed to love them and forgive them for all
i don't think i can do that anymore is there a option to change them and try once more?
each day this life feels like more of curse than a boon
i don't think hell fire will hurt more than these wounds
i know human life aint' supposed to be completly happy but i don't think i even smile anymore
is this my hell or just the place to prepare us for it for i dont think anything could hurt more
scars for lifetime that the naked eye can't see
i tried to heal them but i am tired now and want to end this once and for all
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inksplashgirl · 1 year
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Tightrope
Tightropes are a frequent metaphor
I use them often, myself
to symbolize anxiety,
pressure, lack of balance,
or fear-
but while fragile,
my rope isn't hanging me
right now.
I have no idea what I'm doing
but I'm drinking the sky
as I play along this ribbon
enjoying the hell out of
every shaky step.
I twirl along the edge of death
laughing at gravity
because every second
could be my last
and despite the probability
of disaster, I intend to enjoy it.
I'll use the slack
to launch myself into the air
because eventually,
I have to fall
and if I never take a risk
my time on the rope
will be wasted.
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justanotherrohit · 8 months
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STRANGERS
If we become strangers again
why don't we meet again and become aquantained
forgetting who we were in the past
we might have changed like a forecast
if we become strangers again,
we might fall in love again
maybe at a distant city or in a hamlet pretty
maybe, a bit we changed
thanks to the sorrow we rained
if we become strangers again,
hope this season we meet in our right minds
with all our pasts and the lasts outlined,
maybe with a different ethos, seeking different purpose
if we become strangers again,
lets dream the same dream
fly high over the rooftops
or visit an altar
run alongside a cheetah
or go to a place taller
if we become strangers again,
i bet your lips will curve
and the prettiest smile, u will serve
despite the alieness, u will recieve
the most geninue beam of smile, you have ever seen
if we become strangers again.....
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dayzefloats · 2 years
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He asked her “what are you so afraid of?”
She told him “that I give everyone whose temporary a piece of my soul, and one day I won’t have a single piece of who I am left.”
-hmd (I’m running out of me)
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glassmuncher · 9 months
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June 2023
Best poems I read last month
To A Star by Lucretia Maria Davidson
Because It's Summer by Ocean Vuong
okay. i now live in a world where my old rink no longer exists. by wei--wuxian
In The City by Chen Chen
Aστυνομία Nοσοκομείο ("Police Hospital") by Eleni Sikelianos
Kafka’s Axe & Michael’s Vest by Chen Chen
Openings by Andrea Cohen
Canto for the Chestnut-Eared Laughingthrush by Hai-Dang Phan
Reading a Science Article on the Airplane to JFK by Bianca Stone
Night thinks it's crying again by Kelli Russell Agodon
The Bridges by Ingeborg Bachmann
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Leaving me, is the shadow going away
Leaving the eye, is the eyesight going away
Dawn is being blazed by dusk
Inside darkness, light had remained
Smitten my heart, will that memory bring you back
With you, the life lived, will it be sacrificed
If you are there, I will be there, love
don't go, Love
These many days only behind you, is my ongoing foot
Even after going behind, I am asking where my footsteps are..
Until yesterday your appearance.. which filled my eyelids
It's questioning me as you aren't there
The life which i wished and gained at the moment
With no pity in my fate, it has become a curse
If there is one more lifetime, will ask the creator(Lord Brahma) only one thing
Put us..the place his games cannot be played all lifelong
If you are there, I will be there, love
Please don't go, Love....😔
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Truth Cuts To The Bone
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arseekh-kebab · 20 days
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blast from napowrimo past! i have no idea what day this prompt was from last year but we had to write short (one-three worded) sentences and form a poem, and insert a made up word somewhere in between. i made up the word 'phoneliness' bec it sounded nice to me ✨
i can't believe napowrimo '24 is inching closer, hopefully i get to be equally consistent as last time! 💞
painting deets:
slide one: "Resignation" (1890) by Bertha Wegmann
slide two: "Trett" ("Tired") (1885) by Christian Krohg
slide three: "Lady Lying On Sofa" (1885-1890) by lakovos Rizos
slide four: "Young Smoker" (1877) by Tito Conti
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ckeivon · 1 year
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Stimulated
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