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#poetry

so long since i felt you here,

dont go, stay here,

let me grow my roots closer to yours,

let me find a crease in this wall.

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William Bronk, “The World”
I thought you were an anchor in the drift of the world;
but no: there isn’t an anchor anywhere.
There isn’t an anchor in the drift of the world. Oh no.
I thought you were. Oh no. The drift of the world.
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they told me to behave

they didn’t know I was a wave

so instead, I’ve decided to be brave

w.s el ahmar
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“Cathedrals By The Sea (Reply to a sonnet beginning ‘Cathedrals Are Not Built Along The Sea’)” by George Santayana
Then the wild winds through organ-pipes descended to utter what they meant eternally, and not in vain the moon devoutly mended Her wasted taper, lighting Calvary, while with a psalmody of angels blended the sullen diapason of the sea.
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Within half a month,
Half the clocks stopped working.
That isn’t even a metaphor,
They just ran out of volts
All around the same time.
//
Around the same time,
I was thinking a lot about
Leviathan breastfeeding
The rich and poor alike;
My very own god of the gaps.
//
But the devil’s in the details,
Celebrating fifty years
Of exploding populace;
That message’s received,
Loud and clear.
//
Then I re-found that fear [o Lord]
In 800 milli-G’s of calm.
So now, I’m planning for failure:
Move back to a dying land,
And try to live forever.

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Of fires and gardens

  • A long poem; part 1

You

Once a burning pyre

Lighting up my life

Eating away the darkness

Gripping tightly to my soul.

But I should have known then

Like I should know now

That all that meant

Was you could burn me first

Before the void

Groping my body

Took me away.

Doused in gasoline

I ran into your arms

Ready and willing

To burn right to the ground.

Fate had other plans.

.

.

Something snapped

Suddenly,

All my levers

Had been tripped

Smoke detectors

And fire alarms

Red flags

Littering the path behind me

Vibrant in the light of day

And all I could see

To the future of you

Of us

Was red.

.

.

My hair stole that colour then

Red

Shiny and crimson

Blood rather than vivid

And I turned away from your fire

When you had finally

Burnt me out.

With your harsh words

And cruel behaviour

And a fear creeping over me

That one day

Soon

You would turn with the wind

And consume me completely

Where I would need medical help

And it would be harder to escape.

.

.

Initially keeping watch

To see when the flames had

Finally died down

But they never did

Did they?

Instead our bridges all burned

Until nothing remained.

For two whole long years

I lived with remnants

Of those licks of kindling

Memories

Tossing and turning

Burning

Turning you to black dust

I couldn’t seem to shake.

.

.

May

You returned

Showed up at my door

Looking exactly like you

And I could see fire

Radiating from you

Fooling myself

That it was safe to sit

By your campfire

And hear the stories

You had to tell.

.

.

My own naivety

Convincing my eyes

To see a garden

In place of a burning building

Full of flowers

And bees

And little pools of water

Resting by a stream.

Were you trying to convince me?

Or was it all me?

You seemed so nice,

Genuine,

Loving.

.

.

You told me you missed me

I watched the grass grow

You let me kiss you

The flowers began to bloom

Fire lilies and red tulips

You held me in your arms again

Singing birds twittering away

As I sat in your garden

Inspecting all these things

That seemed new to me

Unable or unwilling

To see the fire

Creeping just out of my line of sight

Ready to burn me right back down.

.

.

You didn’t change much

Did you?

A tumble through the cracks

Every now and then

But it was fine

Those flags aren’t red

You’re just colourblind.

.

.

So I began to spiral

Failing to notice

The encroaching flames.

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