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#lyrical poetry
think-through-pen · 5 months
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Sleep-keeping
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I have been meaning to keep
the dark and desolate sleep
from the crafty claws of dreams,
but sleep flows away in streams.
Again I woke up in my bed,
gasping, tired, agony led,
darkness is my only domain
where all the happy thoughts are slain.
Staring at something I know,
I spend the night buried in snow—
snow of melancholic muse
hued in red and grey: abstruse!
Occasional tapping of the window,
the tap's continual orchestra,
shuffling of feet, fast and slow,
the cicada's anaphora.
Sleep then comes to me, slow
until I crumble like snow.
Insomniac (probably) List: @most-ment @jordynhaiku @universetalkz @twisted0limbs @sweetwarmcookies16 @somebodyssongbird @vixen1012 @fordothepoet @hauntedandwholesome @distilledmelancholies @yumiraaa
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thelaineydayblog · 6 months
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pearlsinoystersflesh · 8 months
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Jeff Buckley, A lyricist of truth and unending passion; the Ultraviolent Romantic.
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fireinmyheart27 · 6 months
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Fall
It's that time of the year again. When the evenings grow colder, and your clothes get warmer. And it's time for the plaid shirts and short skirts and cardigans and coats and boots to be worn, to wrap that pretty scarf and braid your hair in that absolutely wonderful braid you learnt to do. It's about to be Halloween and you could be everything you wanted to be and more. It's that time of the year, when everything gets exciting and the air is full of festive cheer that you get caught up in.
The leaves spin around you, during late afternoon walks, and the breeze is saturated with the scent of memories of everything and it's touch is soft and heavy on your cheek. The mornings are misty daydreams that are too cold to be gorgeous, yet they are, and the dewy air traces long past tales on your skin as you step out. The evenings are colder than ever and it's absolute foolishness to go for late night grocery shopping, but you do so anyway. And the best part is when the day finishes and you can wear that soft hoodie over your ultra soft night suit and curl up with that favourite blanket for movie night.
Fall brings the incandescent glow to the cheeks that only nostalgia can. It's the bittersweet ache of goodbyes and the longing for that old love...fall is that old lover who was the right person, wrong time...who hurt you, but you hurt them too. It's the touch of a long forgotten hand, the ache in your heart from missing someone, the warmth in your heart because of your love for them. Fall heals and breaks your heart, it's contradictions and ironies and poems you don't understand completely, yet you completely feel and relate to, it's hope that grows weaker and a will that grows stronger, it's letting go and getting closure and welcoming the old and the new...it's absolutely wonderful and fantastically gorgeous.
Tis the damn season, after all
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potzapoetry · 2 months
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like it should’ve been
it’s fine
when i try
to not look
when you roll
your eyes
cause you like
to keep the fine line
between us thin
as it’s always been
lets
not act
so crass
pretend like
i’m the ass
when all i’ve done
is think of you as a friend
like it should have been
cause
you chased
and you didn’t attract
damn near
gave me
a heart attack
when you told me that
our love affair was fading back
tried to make me
feel as though i was at lack
like i was some build a girl
you bought off the rack
well
little did you know i’ve developed a nack
from keeping my mind off of sin
keeping good friends
fingertips
away from my chin
one bad thing
that’s keeping you away
when you didn’t notice
and couldn’t take a hint
you broke that wall
like we were berlin
all those things let out
that should’ve been kept within
but you know it’s ok
new beginnings always
have to begin
but there’s one last thing
that’s breaking me out
through my skin
the type of
thing that leaves you in ruins
cause you know and i know
this isn’t how it should’ve been
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dollf4c3d · 1 year
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Beware, the water
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lombax-nexus · 1 year
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One by Sleeping At Last / Two by Sleeping At Last / Four by Sleeping At Last / Five by Sleeping At Last / Nine by Sleeping At Last
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ishanispoems · 9 months
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10 Poem Writing Prompts
Have you ever been in love?
Do you believe in love?
What's the meaning of love?
What's the definition of art?
Are you a good person?
What does it mean to be a good person?
Is that ("good guy" of a famous book/movie/etc..) really a good person?
If so, how are they a good person.
What's poetry?
Is poetry art?
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onherway · 2 months
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40svintagepoet · 5 months
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Autumn and me ✨🍁
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shadowdancingpoetry · 11 months
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There Will Come Soft Rains - Sara Teasdale
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think-through-pen · 9 months
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A Home of My Own
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By the lake, I sit and stare
at fireflies and unaware
of mom's constant dinner call,
on that night's starry shawl.
My pupils catch all of them,
and then I catch the stars too.
I go looking for a gem—
one for me and one for you.
The lake is singing its own song
and my longing grew so strong
that I jumped in for the moon
but I scooped it on a spoon.
I took the "smoon" to my mom,
but it slipped and was gone.
I sobbed for I broke the moon,
but mom kissed my forehead soon.
Taglist: @most-ment @jordynhaiku @vixen1012 @sunlovemoon @somebodyssongbird @irfanullashariff @a-moonlit-poet @distilledmelancholies @hauntedandwholesome @fordothepoet
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thelaineydayblog · 6 months
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aengell · 1 year
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I just wanna throw myself into my mothers Arms and cry
And cry and cry
Tell her about how I’m so scared
All the time
How I tread on eggshells around my shadow
How I wish I could be safe again
I wish I could float back down into my body
Make it mine again
Unconditionally
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arshwrites · 4 months
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Admiring Him
In the symphony of existence, his voice resonates like a sonnet, his eyes narrate tales untold, his smile unveils chapters of joy. His moles are poetic constellations on the canvas of his skin, and his veiny arms carry the strength of a thousand stories. The crinkles around his eyes are whispers of laughter etched in time, while the scrunch of his nose is a charming punctuation mark in the prose of his expressions. His laughter and giggles compose a melody that echoes in the chambers of my heart, driving me to the brink of delightful madness. Adoration blooms, an invisible garden nurtured by the essence of his being. A silent witness, I cherish him from afar, content in the knowledge that his happiness, health, and the sweet nectar of life are paramount. Unseen, my affections linger, a delicate secret woven into the tapestry of his world. His smile, a masterpiece, possesses the alchemical power to melt my soul, elevate my spirits, and evoke an unabashed blush, like petals kissed by the dawn. For he is not just a person; he is my favorite chapter in the book of life, a tale I revisit with every heartbeat.
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munsonsduchess · 11 months
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Steve Harrington but he’s the Lady of Shalott.
❝ there she weaves by night and day // a magic web with colours gay // she has heard a whisper say // a curse is on her, if she stay // to look down on Camelot ❞
Also yes. Eddie is indeed Lancelot
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