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manyasaxenawrites · 20 minutes ago
14. Sympathy Pains
As she stood there, waiting.
Waiting for a sign, a reason perhaps,
I'm glued to the television, knowing
Her world is about to collapse.
The pain in her heart, is mine
too. Her eyes all cried out, staring,
directly at the camera, I can sense it
in my bones, it's obtrusive, glaring.
I hear she screamed when she saw,
the pool of blood and people oscillating.
Her whole world destroyed, in a moment,
truly vile, nauseating.
I'm a mere spectator, in this dysfunctional
world. Forcing my thoughts, evaluating.
And there she is, fighting every day,
running, crying, dying, alternating.
I move around my house, helplessly.
For I only know her pain, not understand it,
hating the world, the people, everyone,
for the crimes they didn't commit.
Will she get the justice she deserves?
I do not know, but I do know
that tonight, we'll both won't sleep,
we'll both see him, alive, breathing, a shadow.
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dg-fragments · 23 minutes ago
These waning long hours,
all the stuff that needs to be done,
and we wonder how do we get the strength,
to make it through the day,
for even when they might be long,
His mercy encompasses us all.
- DG (NaPoWriMo'21 / Day 11)
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wordpimp · 39 minutes ago
Appalachian diary
Another boy scout dream We were camping, we were hiking We were sleeping in tents Oh to wake up and climb a mountain take a selfie on a summit with the sunrise at your back That is Peak glorious
And you, you were hiking with your friends Also up the trail Our groups combined We walked together and got stinky Up and down the greeny shoulders
At my car, we were so happy that it started Every one piled in The car got bigger and bigger Wasn't it a truck, a van The whole bus was filling up We raced into town for warm cheeseburgers, twin beds, and showers
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allmimsyweretheborogroves · 54 minutes ago
XIV. (prompt: write a poem in the form of a news article that will come out tomorrow, ignored)
蕗の薹 咲いてる所 冬が去る
心も花が 春の気持ちだ
winter is leaving and somewhere, the butterbur has started to bloom
in my heart too, a flower has some kind of spring feeling.
@slateblueearthbelow: your move.
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shawnlbird · an hour ago
Poem- Exam Day
In the class room the fan makes the loudest noise second to the crinkle of paper turning, shuffling. shifting bodies. deep breaths, inhaling fortitude, exhaling desperate hope. . . . Day 14 of NaPoWriMo. Not following the prompt, which is about examining one’s name. Patrick Lane has already written the only Bird poem I’d want to write! . . . I don’t endorse any of the WordPress…
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torrentialmonsoon · 3 hours ago
i ripped out my heart and placed its torn pieces in impossible bottles, casting them in murky waters, buried in places no one could ever find. yet, here i am. my heart intact with you.
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poussiere-detoiles · 3 hours ago
After we are done plucking butterflies
out of linings of our stomach,
where do we go from here?
Maybe let the silence branch out
until the entire house looks like autumn ground
we can assign this memory to chamomile tea
and discard it tomorrow so it wont bring up this night.
We can switch to Jasmine , or Rose or anything else.
My grandmother had at least 30 varieties
I think I understand why after 4th flavor now
this has been a very efficient and handy trick so far
we don't have to waste an entire monsoon over a silly fight
just because my medicine stopped working
or I recognize a hidden layer beneath your cologne.
Listen, it is very simple if we let tears blur the cracks
we can lay out our nights and tag each of them
with perfumes, cafes, street lights, bars, cocktails
that's how we have thousand photographs of rainbow days and none of thunder
that's why we have lists of songs we hate and cry to
So which one should we pick tonight?
You choose from the playlist,
I'll go dig up the backyard and get the box
Along with buried hatchet
And once we're done , all we'll be left with is
A fresh ginger tea morning, a decaying tea bag in trash
The playlist of summer we met on repeat, an artist we both hate now
The dead autumn and a new kaleidoscopic monsoon .
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its-mayaz · 3 hours ago
There's nothing I can do
About how happiness in my life
Is like the sun on a cloudy day
It's only there for moments
And then it fades away
And everything turns gloomy and gray
- Again -
There's nothing I can do
About how good things never last
And it terrifies me
That no matter how strong my grip is
They always slip out of my hands
There's nothing I can do
About being destined to doom
About having no control
At least, feeling so
And maybe that's why I'm afraid
Of getting too comfortable in your arms
You're yet another dreamy vision
That's waiting to be ripped apart
Cause you're way too good to be mine
— Escapril Day 11: Comfortable, Maya Z
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whythiskolaveri · 3 hours ago
NaPoWriMo Day 14
Prompt: Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that delves into the meaning of your first or last name.
Dives into the unknown; born of a free-spirit and always testing the boundaries
Intolerant of those who try to tell her what to do; often called "bossy" or "opinionated"
Structure over chaos; tries to be organized but gives up halfway in
Heart is with her family; they are her world, she would do anything for them
A rare find; almost nobody is born with the same title as her.
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mortalghost · 4 hours ago
Your enigmatic words spill over an endless cup of golden memories and hollow prayers. You whisper promises while breaking hearts and spirits everywhere. Truth is not reality when poetry falls through the seams. Understand tomorrow is just a problematic eulogy. Writhe away your exclusive seclusion bringing forth chaotic prose. Shine down, covet, exploit the ones that love you while hanging on your words.
While the softness of your lips offers salvation the actions of your secrets promise damnation.
No matter...the names of those that were honored to taste with you eternity still drown in the sorrows of your weeping trees.
-H. Murcia 9:36 AM 4/14/2021
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creatingnikki · 4 hours ago
notes to self  *stop being naïve edition*
1. Learning any skill is a sort of deep meditation. You have to lose yourself in that for a long time. Whether that’s learning a new language fluently like Korean or playing a music instrument like the ukulele or mastering the art of self preservation. You cannot ride on waves of excitement alone. You also have to row through the seas of demotivation and lethargy. There will only be a few good days. The rest you will have to draw out all your discipline and just get down to it. 
2. There are many people who want to be a part of your life - for whatever reasons. But just because they want that, doesn’t mean you have to oblige. Even if they are “nice” people. Even if you are in a good place mental health wise. The truth is, you very rarely come across people whose life you want to be a part of and who you feel comfortable and real enough to let be part of your life. And what you want trumps what others want when it comes to giving them space on the stage of your life. Even if they are just a tree in the background or an extra. 
3. Have some sense of fear. You can’t go on living life as if nothing and no one can harm you and then be absolutely shocked and shattered when they do. It is so precious that you always see the best in people and that you are so understanding and forgiving. It’s not a bad thing. But it’s also not something you should have to pay for. The presence of fear is what triggers acts of self preservation. And you have known for a while that you have to work on that. 
4. See the bad in people too. See their insecurities. See their selfishness. See their rough edges. See their aggressiveness. See their calculativeness. See their shrudeness. See their weakness. It’s only when you see all of them can you understand what their motives and feelings towards you are. You have to stop hyping their good side. You have to stop believing that’s where it ends. You have to stop giving them pep talks when they talk about what they don’t like about themselves. Instead, listen. Listen and register and never forget. Don’t use it against them. Don’t make them feel bad about it. Of course, not. But don’t pretend like that side of them doesn’t exist. It does. And you’re better off knowing it. 
5. Nuance and sincerity are not concepts people are even aware of let alone practice! So when you treat them in a way so earnest, they latch on to you, think you’re special and want more of how good and okay you make them feel. But it’s not all of such people out there. There are those who are like you, the ones on your emotional, intellectual and spiritual planes. So it’s time you stop thinking it’s only you and continue letting people drain you out. Find those other ones. And until then, just chill with people. You don’t have to always better them or listen to their sorrows. You can just have a beer and joke about whatever is popular these days. Do that. It’s not all empty and pointless. You need to let your brain relax and your heart be preserved for something more worthwhile before it deep dives. 
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coloradomcpoeticslave · 4 hours ago
NaPoWriMo 2021 Poem #14: Silence is Worse than Hate
NaPoWriMo 2021 Poem #14: Silence is Worse than Hate
By Daniel Paiz Getting involved might take some classes for some people. For others, it’s all about running the opposite direction of everyone else attempting to find safety. Not everyone is good with emergencies and trauma. However, one doesn’t know until they are in that possession. Doing something seems more dangerous than whatever might be going on, but on the flip side, the most dangerous…
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April 14
She had a secret changing room a misleading convenience
a girl suit Real girls victims to things that fit
Source: Harris, Thomas. The Silence of the Lambs. St. Martin’s Paperbacks, 1988. P 163
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poetrie · 5 hours ago
When it felt like I was your world,
perhaps, I was just like the earth
to the universe: a tiny speck of mass
in your memory, orbiting in this tiny
space you’ve made of me; night and
day, curious about how vast and vague
your mind could be; how many other
celestial bodies feed your complex
fantasies, while I look at you, thinking
that you are the only one sustaining me.
I could have said that you were my
universe. I wanted to explore the spaces
between your palms, the different
constellation of thoughts in your head,
the black holes that swallow you whole,
and the magnitude of gravity that held me
in place. But I found it hard to get a hold
of you as you outgrew my love and you
continued to expand to such vastness
no one can ever imagine. And that’s
how I learned that nothing was ever mine;
the universe cannot be mine,
as I am but a pygmy dweller
in your constantly changing reality.
– Your Universe, Samantha M.
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writinginnorthnorfolk · 7 hours ago
My name means gold
My name means gold
At least, that’s what a          Korean guy told me, who                    I met in Amsterdam, when I went to buy                               Matcha and jasmine tea,joss sticks and a brass frog ashtray, and eat Vietnamese                    food for my seventeenth birthday,cooked by a friendfrom Paris,who I never saw again. Kim M. Russell, 14th April 2021 My response to NaPoWriMo Day…
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balkaransidhu · 7 hours ago
L for Lai #NaPoWriMo2021
L for Lai #NaPoWriMo2021
Lai is a French form of poetry with 9 lines and a strict syllabic structure. The rules of a Lai are pretty simple and stated below:- • 9 lines with 2 rhymes. • Structured as aabaabaab. • Lines ending with the ‘a’ rhyme are five syllables long. • Lines ending with the ‘b’ rhyme are two syllables long. • a total of 36 syllables There is no particular rule on the subject matter.Here’s my…
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brinemcallister · 11 hours ago
30/30 Day 13-Ambiguous Sunrise
30/30 Day 13-Ambiguous Sunrise
In Antartica, There are six months  Of sunlight  And six months  Of darkness And this is what I call Our love affair- Antarctica  As I balance between Your mania and depression I never know when  I am the light in your eyes Or the reason for your tears I cling to the equator and hope For a balance in your sentences Before your actions spin  Off their axis I fell in love with your…
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semicolonsoliloquy · 12 hours ago
Something inside you is moving again, 
ringing as it dances from bone to bone, 
shaking your body into motion 
with its songful vibration. 
Anything that can be heard can be felt. 
Put your hand to my throat and feel how your name 
ruffles my muscles like autumn leaves. 
This is what language is for. 
You skip your heart across the lake 
and each ripple causes fish to fall in love. 
You recite my words back to me 
so I can wade into your bloodstream, 
reach my hand into the depths, return your heart to you. 
Can you feel it, sliding softly into your chest? 
A momentary flicker, sudden joy. 
Tracing up your collarbone, your cursive veins, 
the thinnest lines of poetry.
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where-wordsfail · 12 hours ago
I don’t think I could tell you the first time I felt like I was floating-
Like the air had been sucked out of the room and all the gravity was off kilter.
It never made sense, floating up high or even inches off the ground.
I don’t think I could tell you the first time I felt like my face wasn’t my face.
I can tell you it hasn’t happened in a long time-
I’m grateful for that.
I can’t tell you the first time I felt as if my whole body was vibrating-
Palpable energy permeating my existence,
Capturing my attention from one task to the next.
They don’t tell you about these things like they should,
The world is not built for those of us living as the guest host of our own brain.
I can tell you this though-
it hasn’t stopped me yet.
M.L. | floating among the stars | national poetry writing month 13/30
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