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#writerscreed
dg-fragments · 15 hours ago
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Life's increasingly becoming a big 'perhaps',
or perhaps, it's always been one,
yet, there's still gratitude,
and hope, perhaps.
- DG
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followcb · 14 hours ago
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The Chimera
It was a magical time
a mysterious year
enigmatic, life-changing
love grew where fear
formerly occupied her feelings
held her captive
a prisoner,
imprisoned by capricious emotions
until love rolled into shore
secrets of the sea
awash in mystery
it's here, she begins her story . . .
Demure creature,
once self-possessed,
'til passion's waking
eruptive quaking
unleashed tempests within
her tremorous breast
she straddles love's friction
internal contradiction
feral fire, his smoldering eyes
an emerald thunder at eventide
swelling anguish, rapturous heat
her mind distraught, untaught
consuming love's potent brew
Crossing lines she never knew
existed, never would
she have resisted
love's physical, spiritual
invitation, inspiration
for every one of her carnal novels
ignites raging flames,
fuels fairytale fires
the shedding of innocence
upon satin sheets of desire
juxtaposition of contradiction
supposed sinfulness
reality of love's imminence
Blissful trance, heady romance
her flushed intentions
whispered in desperate hours
love's illusion billows upon
hopeful horizons
artful chimera, hypnotic daze
intangible hands with restless
features coaxing hunger to tears
counterfeit dreams
become shredded stars
at dawn, she awakens . . .
to the sea's hoary vacancy
all but a lovesick dream
©️ @followcb & @rhapsodyinblue80
August 1, 2021
Another collaboration that went where inspiration guided our poetic spirits! Always an enriching experience, creating art with passionate writers like @rhapsodyinblue80!!
Cheers,
Chris
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trans-writes · 10 hours ago
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a boy you don’t know isn’t in school today you’re not friends, only passing strangers you’ve never spoken to him and yet you notice that the desk in front of you is empty and there is silence when the teacher calls his name
you’ve never spoken to him, but you think about where he’s gone and if he’s coming back and maybe he’s sick and you hope he gets well but maybe he’s at the amusement park and you hope he’s smiling. or maybe something happened and maybe the desk will stay empty and maybe you won’t get to tell him that you liked his hair (not that you would have if he was here) and you hope you’re wrong.
the thing is, you’ve never spoken to him and you don’t know the first thing about him except that he has nice hair and he always drops his pencil during class but he’s not here and you notice and you wonder.
the thing is, when he is here you notice. maybe not a lot, and maybe he only exists in you peripheral vision, but you notice, and that’s something you are someone’s boy with nice hair. they notice. they wonder. -r.a.b.
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persephoneshellhounds · 4 hours ago
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your slow, burning kisses live off my trembling skin, for this alone, i will run out of poetry. i will fall at your feet, graceless, and at will. and i know this is madness. this is a disaster. this is the calm — all rolled into quiet, prosaic longings i can't begin to comprehend. this love, it scares me but not enough to run for my life. and i will have every bit of this moment committed to memory. i will bury it inside my ribs, away from the selfish hands of time. i will keep this love in a vial, hidden away beneath my tongue. always — this is my kind of always, my love, and some parts of me will never outgrow being yours.
this is the kind of madness i know. this is the kind of disaster. this is the kind of calm.
in the dark, i whisper, "tell me, love, does it scare you? does it scare you enough to run?"
— fray narte
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abrighterspark · 12 hours ago
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i could talk all night
and still you'd struggle
to see just what i mean.
it's not on you;
you've not been subtle -
i'm just not your kind of extreme.
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iwatchsky · 20 hours ago
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Beautiful Moments Happen In The Past.
You didn’t know sleeping in best friend’s lap was beautiful until she moved in a different house, in different city, in different country. You didn’t know touching his face was beautiful until you separated your ways to never see each other again. You didn’t know pushing your head in a soft pillow was beautiful until you landed in a new city, clueless, on your own. You didn’t know the hug you gave that person was beautiful until he died. Comfort is in the past, reminisced in its absence. Warmth valued in the grip of frost. Love known amid those fondled by apathy. Until worst mastered you don’t know what good is and until the death clasps- life.
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oldsoulnewmoon · 13 hours ago
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hearts of the ocean.
we are a shipwreck you and I where somewhere inside this ocean our souls stay captivated and won’t let go
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elycwinters · 21 hours ago
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Our Miracle
You and I have survived things that has broken others by simply holding and loving one another – it’s our little miracle.
You and I have survived earth shattering events and pains unlike what others have and we are still standing proudly.
This is our little miracle: a love that has been cared for, protected with swords and shields against all sorts of wars. And we’ve won. So let us enjoy this love of ours and let the bards and musicians make it immortal by the way of songs, for our story is already written in the stars.
- Ely C. Winters.
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oldsoulnewmoon · 12 hours ago
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love me.
like the winds from the north that linger to the step of momentous melody... faithful hope, faithful eyes in the cauldron of the epitome young lovers rest with easy hearts, pray with easy souls, and feathery beds await... with no sleep for the dead
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pelicandensity · 14 hours ago
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She Hides in the Well of Her Sorrows
it's easy
to hide
here
quiet
dark
fortified
no need to
self actualize
kept bouyant
by the water
of tears
never having
to face
what lives
beyond
the sadness
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everytimeyousaygoodbye · 20 hours ago
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I love you in a way,
A parched sea would
Adore the clear sky
Oblivious about the rain,
Terrified of the thunder and light
She searches her refuge
In her dear, tender blue sky...........
*love is blind they say, I believe it to be a lucid reality*
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a-whisp-of-thought · 21 hours ago
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If I may not be allowed the gift of being loved softly,
Tear my heart out and write love poems to me in my own blood.
Peel me open and plant promises under my skin.
Hold me fierce enough to leave palm prints on my bones.
Shove the world into my hands until planets are buried under my fingernails and denial is just your name on my lips over and over again.
Leave claw marks on all of my soft parts and refuse to stitch me closed before you leave.
Let me paint you scars in the shape of my longing and destroy universes screaming of you.
Demand I remember you. Refuse to let me forget.
Refuse to leave. Disintegrate into a hurricane on my living room floor when the mere suggestion emerges and shatter all my windows.
Love me until your existence against mine feels like waves crashing into each other trying to fracture molecules. Until every moment feels like drowning but oxygen burns too much.
Love me until our desire on your tongue feels like ripping stitches open from a still-healing wound.
Love me in the dark and to oblivion and back. Love me until we birth stars in our reckless passion.
Until we have no regard for past or forever, just for the sight of the momentary explosion in your iris when I call you mine.
Love me with your teeth bared and my fists in your hair. Love me sharp with no kind edges.
Love me until you have exorcized all the gentle things I prayed to the sky for and I am redeemed.
Love me into the end and to resurrection.
Love me until you cannot bear not to.
Love me until you are on your knees and begging for mercy I do not know how to give because you took forgiveness from me.
Until loving is synonymous with burning alive and I am a masochist.
Until I am ash in the crevices of your hands and you are a symphony blaring in my eardrums and we are undone completely.
Love me until you are the only hurt I will ever have to know.
~ I am sick of begging to be loved tenderly
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paradoxicalpenman · 23 hours ago
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From autumn to autumn
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
Decay tried to swallow the yellow,
Not enough time before autumn fades,
Winter painted them white,
Exhausts coloured them yellow,
Freeze tested patience,
Snow the perseverance,
Spring rejuvenated them to sweet sixteen,
All dressed in black, hold onto your hats,
Over-speeding could kill,
Summer brought testing times,
Some cracks developed,
Tried to mend their best,
Where failed, pothole beckons,
Rains brought with them,
The aroma of success,
Sowing seeds,
For descendants,
Then comes autumn again,
Road same, passenger different..
Why did they have to diverge?
One afraid of the stench of wilting,
Believed in live fast, die young,
Other wanted to see some more springs,
Inactivity not an issue, only goal live long,
Do they meet somewhere,
Yeah, they meet in the valley of joy,
They move almost parallel over the river of grief,
One takes the adventurous journey,
Other takes the safest route,
But the destination still the same,
Adventurous one takes less time,
Safest one takes a while,
But it eventually gets there too...
Two roads converge in a dark woods,
One burnt pyres to pave the way forward,
Other started digging and burying,
Waiting for someone to show the way ahead,
Journey different, experiences different,
Diverge all you want,
Yet beginning and end almost same,
Clueless about the before, no idea about the after..
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pelicandensity · 22 hours ago
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Chiaroscuro
on the edge
of a dream
we paint the colors
of our emotions
every stroke
defines them
offers clarity
brings about
understanding
we must
never forget
we hold
the brush
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scribblersobia · 20 hours ago
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Sometimes people stay with you not because they love you but because they know you love them. So, it's like they enjoy that soft corner of your heart but, they don't have that love for you in their heart. And, That's shitty!
@scribblersobia
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ellisnightingale · 9 months ago
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“Novembers are for softest sleep when skies are dark and grey. They do not mind the time you keep when night looks much like day. They do not mind the rain that falls so warmly down your cheek. ‘Rest easy now’ is what they’d say if months knew how to speak.”
— Ellis Nightingale
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