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le-seul-mot0001 · 4 days
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This has so far always been a space to roam freely and spill my dishwater thoughts. However, as avid readers, I wanted to let you know that I offer customized writing. If you know anyone who could be interested in
- customized poetry / lyric or narrative poetry
- a customized murder mystery dinner game
I would be honored if you would reach out to me or share the link with them directly.
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le-seul-mot0001 · 1 year
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The words
Like fleeting melodies
Slowly rise up
As the sun
Falls silent
Birds of captivity
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le-seul-mot0001 · 1 year
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le-seul-mot0001 · 1 year
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wor(l)ds in paperback.
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le-seul-mot0001 · 1 year
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Tender skies.
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le-seul-mot0001 · 1 year
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waltz of words.
ink and paper
blend so well
as lips of words
interlock with
lips of silence,
both taste
meaning
to the full. -
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le-seul-mot0001 · 1 year
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I guess, there is one idea I’m equally fond of as exchanging poetry-gazes and fleeting word-glances - walking alongside each other in silence… ~
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le-seul-mot0001 · 2 years
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Gedanken schweifen (auf)
ab
kürz
(Z)eilen hinfort.
Verirren sich auf Wortwegen,
verästeln sich in
Ideenmäander.
Verwirrende Lautgebilde
echoen in der Gedankenkammer
bis hallender Wortsinn
im Ideenstrom verrinnt,
im Sand
unvollendeter Satzpläne
versinkt.
Schreibende Augen starren
verständnislos auf
vernebelten Nebensatz, der
trostlos auf blassem Blatt
versiegt.
Geradlinige, aber
richtungslose
Tintenflüsse
verschwinden im Wortnebelmeer. -
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le-seul-mot0001 · 2 years
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Poedrink / W(h)ineink
the evening air is
full of strolling couples.
sidewalk hand-holding
chit-chatting,
sky-gazing, field-grazing
couples. I silence.
mismatch and misfit
between these pulsating
pieces of puzzles
me, poetrapped.
walking home to
do some ingredient-matching.
cakes smell sweeter
than sunset hours. -
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le-seul-mot0001 · 2 years
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beat-ink.
the paper in soliloquy.
murmurs n whispers.
eyes ink sinks into
linked lines dreaming
of dialoguessence.
to write is to be two.
paper & pen in pas
de deux. flipping pages
into future -
step step swirl
intertwined fingers
locking the gaze while
the words clash
& reverberate in
one heart
that's home to two.
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le-seul-mot0001 · 2 years
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the rain was
gentle, soothing.
smallest drops
washing away
morning-pandemonium.
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le-seul-mot0001 · 2 years
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Delving into memory of the Forgotten untold.
Through Syria’s flickering morning mist children. At their father’s abandonned
grave silent voices Break. Uprooted memories.
Forced back tears when forced to think back.
A shot and his life, their little hearts and future
splintered. A girl small,
delicate. Her adult eyes tell
she's become woman too soon. Like her mother, abandonned for
A present without future tense. Antecedents of a letter
Whose ink got erased. They become Numbers. The camps of Aleppo bleed
hunger. Here I have no name. Here I have no country.
World says, we’re full, so unseen They go empty and broke
A tear through the land A woman's broken prayers
work nightshifts like her
sewing hands. People are
priceless but food is not.
you can't tell which one feels colder,
the night skies or the ones that watch
an echo fade into
the silent whispers of wind.
a sigh(t) deeper than
statistics. waiting
for a tomorrow.
Thanks for the commissioning!
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le-seul-mot0001 · 2 years
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it's not even
the night is tranquil
pour in a drink or two
of sleep.
the blanket is warm
but the pillow
feels lonely in soliloquy.
we should count more
blessings than
stars
but we're ungratefully
scanning the skies
for midnight tea
and someone's hand
to intertwine with
our dreams.
it's the little things,
the way our hair lies
kempt but unstroked
lips dry from speaking
and skin stuck to ourselves
like a flowerless lawn.
the way our breath
is carried outside the window
without response.
it's not even...
it's rather that
sometimes, we want to feel
close
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le-seul-mot0001 · 2 years
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Grounded syllable beans
brewed in hot-water metaphor,
cupped on blank word pages
Single coffee drops dripping down
Double amount of milk to erase
Make it a triple espresso
For the next round
And blend in the
ingredients of
cinnamon-synecdoche,
almond-alliteration,
pumpkin-spiced prosody
And hopefully, these writings
will grow up
into a book
before being spilled into the sink
as dishwater
Each sentence to be enjoyed
as sip sip sip
No line skipped in a rush
of pages flipped-flipped-flipped
Flavored free-verse lines
Cream on top, it’s a piece of cake
drop the caramel
for a little bit of wordplay
Turn around the tables
and get down-to-earth
empty pages, empty letters
but a cup full of coffee
And its aroma flooding the room
Scented thoughts and soliloquy
find their way through the corridors
of poetry. -
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le-seul-mot0001 · 2 years
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Zwischen Buchdeckeln vergraben
lauern wartend auf die Worte
eingestaubte Dichterhände.
Durch die dünnen, hohlen Wände
hör'n sie Sätze, aber wagen
nur zu flüstern, nur zu fragen.
Lange schon nichts mehr zu sagen
Ideen schwirren wie die Motten
durchs Gedankenlabyrinth,
doch wie Meeresbrisen wehen,
vergehen sie rasend, geschwind.
So bleibt nun Papierweiße
Ohne Tintenschwärze -
die Lücken und Leerstellen
des Lebens [ausgeklammert]
Fest umklammerte Routine, von
Büroklammern, endlose Termine.
Reibenslose Regungslose
Warteschleife
Endlich naht, bedrohlich
Feierabendaussicht, am Ende
des Tunnels - ein wenig Licht?
Oder sind die Worte ge-
flohen, ausgewandert, zersto
-ben, erloschen, vergangen,
alleine nur Ich? -
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le-seul-mot0001 · 2 years
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overnight snow.
the world froze
shrank into snowflake-
mentality. minutiae.
pristine. quietude
in icicles on
thorns & thistles.
rustlingleaf-sighs.
snowdrops in
icycoats. weather-
waywardness. seismic
shift-mimicking.
springtime debutant
simile. this
country of frozen
smiles. cold-weather
masquerade. -
hearts-poetry
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le-seul-mot0001 · 2 years
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remote reply in
government-lingo:
“this is fake news,
only radicalized
Ukrainians in
maternity ward”
Russians claim,
extinction
of voices under
the false pretense
of extremism.
as she goes unheard
the first cries
of a baby
that never got to weep.
burn down the house
bomb the
unborn child
along with
her mother’s fire-heart
ashen sombriety. -
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