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#prose poem
a-moonlit-poet · 22 hours ago
To him,
There was once a boy,
Standing in the dark
All by himself,
Trying to lose
What was already lost.
Scared and alone,
Yet not running away.
He saw the dark clouds
Which then broke into rain
And thunders that followed
Ringed deadly echoes in vain.
But he stood
Where he was.
He was afraid to move,
He was afraid of making a sound,
He stood
And let the water wash him away
Slowly but fully,
And losing himself
with every passing minute.
She saw him,
Standing afar
Hearing his silence
Roaring in abandoned azure.
He needs someone, she thought.
But little did she know
He needed nothing but himself the most.
She watched him
This all she could do.
She couldn't give hope
To the hopeless fellow.
She walked away,
Leaving him behind.
Thinking, I cannot fix him
That's not what he wants...
And somehow;
She knows.
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vnillandcigrtts · a day ago
i am one long love letter to myself and all the people i used to be. apologies as elegies muttered to a cracked gravestone, mourning with flowers, that wilt as time passes. bottled tears sold in secret, the money used to buy pipe dreams, giving us a reason to live. sixteen candles, sixteen wishes, still waiting for the next fire to blow out. the numbers tally up as the years do, bodies piling but we know how to get away with murder. i am still one long love letter, an ode to the losses, a poem of words unsaid. but i am a killer now, with fire in me, that can't be blown out at the next birthday.
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fdhynct · 8 months ago
to love a poet; to be immortalized in verse
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memoryslandscape · a month ago
At night on the page between awake and asleep, the world makes perfect sense. There we meet again for the first time and you take my hand.
Louis Jenkins, from “The Book,” No Boundaries: Prose Poems by 24 American Poets, ed. Ray Gonzalez (Tupelo Press, 2003)
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definegodliness · 12 days ago
The last spirit guardian
The wolf watches over her. He towers among the old-grown trees; Oft pops his head over their canopies To see what the future Might bring.
"Will the sun return?", she asks,
"When will the singing birds return to sing?"
The wolf lowers his ancient head And nuzzles her until she smiles.
All will be well, she feels, Though there's no way of telling 'when'.
It matters little,
The wolf watches over her, For he admires the way she has managed To keep The sparkle in her eyes.
He snarls at the shadows Preying to consume her light and claim it As their own.
The wolf knows any light can be obscured And for these shadows it seems The brightest have the Greatest allure.
He would do anything To protect this little human's magic As she's the reason why vulnerable things Like old-grown forests and Ancient spirits Survive.
Come autumn's rains She sits dry between his colossal paws, Etching visions of better worlds In the malleable dirt.
Every time one of her drawings is finished A human is fulfilled with A newfound appreciation For existence.
Come winter's cold She snuggles deep within the warmth of fur And dreams for months on end; envisioning Concepts like Kindness, care, and altruism.
Every time one of her dreams is finished A human is fulfilled with A newfound dedication Toward assuring the well-being Of Gaia; first --- And most sacred Care-giver.
One winter she slept restless, The cold Could not gain control And the world never truly came to a halt; Everything just kept spinning, Rapacious, virulent.
She felt the touch Of spring's tantalizing sun And popped a gleeful face Out of her great wolf's fur's Sanctuary; Giggled as she For the first time could hear His snoring breath of wintry sleep.
Endeared, she was, by his slow heartbeat; Her ever vigilant protector, Dormant, now... at peace.
She did not dare wake him, but beholding Earth in this twilight existence She could not help But wonder:
"When will the moon return?"
"Did the squirrels find all their acorns?"
"When will the new bear cubs emerge From their winter's sleep?"
"Will I ever once more feel the warmth Of summer's heat?"
And though she did not utter the words, From the edge of the forest Answers whispered,
Unlike the wolf's answers.
She peered into the distance To locate the source of the whispering And saw the phantasmagoria Strangely dancing, As if coiling, writhing; then, beckoning...
She approached.
"We will give you all the answers you seek, And all we ask in return is your Undying curiosity."
The girl shivered As a cold gale propelled their voices. She had never felt Such skin crawling Cold Before.
In that moment All she really wanted Was to return to her ancient wolf And snuggle up in the sanctuary of his fur.
The shadows whispered,
"Do not leave just yet, we will tell you The future; the end, and the beginning; We will tell you Rhyme and reason; Destiny and purpose!"
The girl just shook her head, Backed away, Then turned around, And left.
The shadows hissed,
"What about death?"
With that their slithering umbra shot forth As creeping vines toward her.
Their voice, now clearly heard:
"You want to know What happens to that wolf of yours when Time finally claims him!"
She ran, Never looking back, And as she leapt back Inside the the great wolf's fur The voices ceased their torturous roar.
She snuggled to his chest, still restless and Swindled of all her ease; Trying to calm down by listening To that slow, slow Heartbeat.
She waited and waited, longing to hear, Yet as the broad chest remained silent The whispers returned.
Winter went by, hardly noticed In the absence of cold and time Coming to a halt.
Then came the time of true spring When the fairies wake up from their slumber As their flower beds unbutton, And colours wash away the grey.
So, too, the ancient wolf did wake.
He nuzzled she who was magic embodied, Safely sleeping in his fur.
"Wake up, little one, At long last spring’s zephyr gently flows."
She answered her faintest kindest smile, Then opened her eyes:
--- 13-10-2021, M.A. Tempels ©
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siir-poesia · 6 months ago
Poetry in 5
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Vuelvo a sentir amor en tus labios. Vuelvo a sentir pasión en tus manos. Vuelvo a sentir las respuestas en mis oídos. Contemplo tus ojos y no encuentro otro mejor lugar  en el cual morir bañado de pasado y olvido. Tus ojos, colisión de reflejos marrones. Tu existencia, puerta cósmica al infinito irreal.
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ 
★ ★  ★  ★ ★  ★  ★ ★
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I feel love on your lips again. I feel the passion in your hands again. I feel the answers again in my ears. I contemplate your eyes and i can't find a better place in which to die bathed in past and oblivion. Your eyes, collision of brown reflections. Your existence, cosmic door to unreal infinity.
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
 ★ ★  ★  ★ ★  ★  ★ ★
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Je ressens à nouveau de l'amour sur tes lèvres. Je ressens à nouveau la passion entre vos mains. Je ressens à nouveau les réponses dans mes oreilles. Je contemple tes yeux et je ne peux pas trouver un meilleur endroit dans lequel mourir baigné de passé et d'oubli. Tes yeux, collision de reflets bruns. Votre existence, porte cosmique vers l'infini irréel.
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
 ★ ★  ★  ★ ★  ★  ★ ★
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Sento di nuovo l'amore sulle tue labbra. Sento di nuovo la passione nelle tue mani. Sento di nuovo le risposte nelle orecchie. Contemplo i tuoi occhi e non riesco a trovare un posto migliore in cui morire immersi nel passato e nell'oblio. I tuoi occhi, collisione di riflessi marroni. La tua esistenza porta cosmica all'infinito irreale.
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
 ★ ★  ★  ★ ★  ★  ★ ★
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Eu sinto amor em seus lábios novamente. Sinto a paixão em suas mãos novamente. Sinto as respostas novamente em meus ouvidos. Eu contemplo seus olhos e não consigo encontrar um lugar melhor no qual morrer banhado no passado e no esquecimento. Seus olhos, colisão de reflexos marrons. Sua existência, porta cósmica para o infinito irreal.
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
 ★ ★  ★  ★ ★  ★  ★ ★
siir-poesia ©
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iambrillyant · 7 months ago
“some people will not like the version of you that you are becoming because the older version of you is more comfortable for them, more understandable to them, more resonant with them. if your growth intimidates them, you’re not obligated to keep making space for what shrinks you.”
— iambrillyant
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a-moonlit-poet · 22 days ago
I looked into the mirror
I didn't see myself.
I saw the person
who has seen a lot more
than I ever did.
I saw the scars;
which others found fake.
I saw all the pain
which others call mistakes.
I traced my fingers over the wounds
that no longer hurt.
The dried up blood
from the deep cuts of bloody words.
I devoured the eyes
which are tired yet beautiful.
I tasted the lips,
which are hiding some unspoken truth.
I love her.
I love the person she has become.
I fell in love
With the flaws that make her.
All her imperfections
That slowly builds her up.
She is everything
I ever hoped to be.
And also someone
I could never ever be.
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enigmaspoetry · 2 months ago
it feels weird and sad, you know? when you have shared such giggles with someone that you know everything about them, yet do not know the reason why you fell apart. you know their rainbows, their rain, their sunny days, and their cold winter but now you're stuck in the fall and it feels like autumn is never coming back. the hands that once grooved you to soft beats do not dare to make you smile anymore. and when you read those old conversations, you bury your head in a pillow and call yourself stupid, but the heart still beats. it never stops. time moves quickly slipping out of your hands when you read their words, and you keep reading. you want time to slip letters under your door by their name and you want autumn, and you want to be that stupid again because you realize stupidity is not fun unless there's a person to prove that it's not stupid to love someone.
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faedaimon · a month ago
I wish we could go back or bring back a time when we could study for enjoyment; when studying wasn’t about getting the best grades from standardised tests that barely make you think outside the box; when people genuinely sought knowledge for the sake of learning. Nowadays it’s all about getting a good degree just to make money, we want to finish our education quickly so we can start earning money quickly and in between we miss out out on the learning and it’s more of just racing to the finish line. It pains me so much that so many people who could’ve contributed a lot to society, are now lost just because of a piece of paper, or because they didn’t have enough money or they just lost the motivation for their passion.
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boutiquepoetry · a year ago
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by @atticuspoetry
BUY THE PRINTABLE HERE - Download + Print in from home!
#poetry #instagrampoem #poet #poetrycommunity #poem #writer
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stormykatie · 3 months ago
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if i pass away,
my pen will mourn me longer
than my friends will ever do in a lifetime
it will sit cold on my study table,
its own bereavement fester
with the lifeless body buried somewhere
reeking of lost poetry
an ocean of mystery that seems
unsolvable now that the lead vanished
like smoke
it will try to recollect the words
it used to scribble
and the emotions they carry
it will marvel at the depth of the scars
that resonate on the seemingly flawless pieces,
how many times in a day did i survive
the pangs before i decided the culmination
of a barren life
such a tragedy that it could only lie there
thinking of the past as its yearning
to be held burns with the candlestick
-mourn me longer,
katie, 16th of July 2021, 16:45
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uutpoetry · 5 months ago
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5 Medical Signs You Shouldn't Ignore
Catherine B. Krause 1. A new tentacle on your head. While it's normal for a growing biology to develop tentacles in the process of mutating to the next-level organism, a tentacle on the head is dangerously close to the brain and may enable it to access higher knowledge or food items, ultimately leading it to become more powerful than your puny body. Resist the temptation to transcend this reality, as the next reality might not be any better, and what would we do without you? Think of the oylem-haze. 2. Flashing back to previous poems. Truly there is nothing more poetic than cheese, as a famous person once said, but salanthropists are flowing with salad to give to anyone who needs it, if only they would swallow their vegetables. Do you think you understand where capitalism ends and vegetarianism begins? It's more complicated than you think. Consume less, if you think it will help you. It's a free space between our ears, for now. 3. Being delighted by razor beams. Razor beams are terrifying, like razory laser beams that cut you in half. What sort of sick mind would enjoy this sort of thing? Not me, not you. Stop teasing the cat with a back scratcher; it wasn't meant for such things. It's a carnivorous predator and it's bored; how would a razor beam help it cope with a reality between four walls where there's never enough scritching or food to chase? 4. Unquestionable thirst for power. I've had a painful bump in the middle of my right shin, maybe slightly to the right of the bone in the middle, for the last two weeks. It's the whole group dynamic at a place like that, and people need to question it more. China, Russia and Iran are just competitor imperialists to America. May the world be corrected to such an extent that our descendants will look back on us with a bit of disgust. 5. Too many cats and not enough energy. If you want to live somewhere affordable, start using this spoon to scoop peanut butter out of the jar. Or go to a different country, preferably, because cats deserve all the attention and all the space, so don't get too many, no matter how much you love them. No matter how great it sounds to be a crazy cat lady, always tease them with a back scratcher. This is not mean-spirited but a fictionalized account of something that really happened to me 10 years ago.
Catherine B. Krause is a crazy cat lady, survivor, and dork living in Niagara Falls, NY. All her writing is released under the CC-Zero license because she doesn't believe in copyright. She has been doing a lot of T-shirt design lately under the name dikleyt at Redbubble and Teepublic, and has uploaded much of this art to Wikimedia Commons under the same license.
Art by kimama
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boysaints · 11 months ago
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on god & learning to love
taglist + transcript under the cut (ask to be added/removed):
@politropos @thoroughbredsbian @everybodyplaysalong @raystoro @diyas @lovebrew @fairnell @drugstorecowboy1989 @tsnlesbian @bitcheusjackson @summeroflikes @txreznikoff @richardsiiken
[poem transcript: “i only believe in god every second saturday but i think they’re the one that always sits down with me for coffee, that puts their not-hand on my shoulder and says, c’mon, you should eat something with that, or you haven’t slept in three days, it’s gonna catch up to you soon, and even though i pride myself on being a good, practical, head-screwed-on-right daughter, all i want is for someone to put their arms around me and say you know what, it’s okay, you did your best, you tried so hard, that’s enough, you’re enough, but if there’s no one there, i think the sunlight coming through the shutters counts, too, i think the birds clamoring to be heard in the trees count, too. look, i know i was an ugly, bitter, terrible child, but this feels like a second chance, like maybe i didn’t fuck it all up too badly--if there’s no one looking out for me, at least i can pretend the universe is! at least i can pretend there’s someone waiting for me with a smile when i get home; i can name my want a blessing and love it the same way i love the sound of my friend’s laughter and staying up late enough to see the sunrise. look, i know i was an ugly, bitter, terrible child, but this is a second chance, and if you’d let me, i’d hold you like you were the whole world, too. i’d love you like you were a religion, too.” /end transcript]
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