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#national poetry writing month
smoke-in-the-rain · 2 days ago
Needing others is not codependency.
It is an innate need of every human being.
We are defined as being social beings,
And we have a sense that in this day and age
No one gets more stimulated than in the past.
This is what is called loneliness.
The feeling that we all dread so much we try to feel the void it causes
With meaningless parties, substances and conversations
Instead of cultivating deep connections with others.
And let’s say maybe we managed to have one
And it’s all going well
Until we realize that we care deeply for them
And don’t want to be left by them.
And so we start straying further and further away from them,
So as to be the one to leave not to be left;
Because being left can mean we are the problem
And we are flawed.
And we cry of loneliness,
And yet we reject the very thing is meant to keep there,
The connection between us and another.
Because society praises
“Independent” people,
Unbothered attitudes,
And frowns upon
We are all so public and private at the same time
That our masks have melted into our faces,
Modifying the very structure of ourselves.
Chasing wealth, imagined success and validation in the form of likes,
Treating social life as something to post about,
And not a necessary tool to well-being.
We trade closeness for popularity,
And love with images,
And so we stray from our essence.
In the beginning of civilization,
Intimacy, closeness and belonging into a group meant survival,
But now our groups have double-faced constituents,
And ruthlessness shows itself
When using someone’s achilles to overtake someone.
And so, we are really the loneliest we’ve ever been.
And our demise is waiting for us.
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dragongirlau · 5 days ago
NaPoWriMo Wrapped Up
Just a short post today to say once again I have finished up my annual challenge of National Poetry Writing Month – NaPoWriMo. Modelled after National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo, the idea is to write a poem every day over the month of April. I wrote every day, some of the poems were even moderately good. It seems writing every day is good for producing quantity, and theoretically some of…
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mochiimoo · 9 days ago
30. A series of directions | napowrimo
fall to earth in a morning shower, slip under the misty spray, a dream or a memory unbidden a prophecy in the unfurling, as though you intended with the tips of your fingers, to cling onto the black bough still wet in the autumn of spring’s deep bloom a blossom of bright peaches on snow cheeks signs of nesting spattered beneath coastal redwoods stick to every dew blade, the drying slabs of concrete with a hearty lust for fruit & courage, your ripening at every right turn is birdsong glancing on golden rims through the passage marked by the arch of the iris linger in the setting bruise as the bumblebees hum here comes the sun & it’s all right like bare feet slowly pressing onto sand a moment before the sweeping surf renews the map, but there’s no turning against this gray tide
—becoming may by anv
(a wip)
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drunk-on-writing · 10 days ago
"even now, after everything?"
i miss you the most when i’m laying in bed, lamenting on how perfectly your head would fit in the crook of my elbow / what i wouldn’t give to be your pillow / i think of you the most when the moon is high and full in the sky, because her glow reminds me of your smile / you outshine the whole solar system, my love / i crave you the most when i miss you the most and think of you the most / but i cannot say when i love you the most because that time has not yet come / you see, the thing is i love you more and more each and every day / and my love for you has yet to reach its peak
(cc, 2021)
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writelikefools2021 · 10 days ago
Puppy Days of Spring - Joe Gallenstein - day 29
Red Buds blooming mean that Spring has Sprung Spry and wet like a puppy from a fresh dip From the nearest creek bed.
But now the buds have given way to green leaves Spring is maturing to its more well-known verdant self Perhaps less colorful, but still vibrant And also deeper and full
Just as a dog grows and still longs to play A puppy in a full body Begging you to go outside
Soon it will be time to play Summer catch And better yet – take Summer naps! Fun in the sun and to sleep by the trees
The dog days will soon be here Long and hot days joined by humid nights The perfect time for an evening walk with your dog Basking in the warm moonlight.
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awyldepoetry · 10 days ago
Palms catching heaven
The nameless wonders seen through wandering eye As children, students, palms catching heaven With toughened skin and smiles deft and wry We’re never still all the things we have been
As children, students, palms catching heaven All bathed, as new, insight yet untested We’re never still all the things we have been Chaos born, in chaos unmolested
All bathed, as new, insight yet untested All brimming with the will to push the line Chaos born, in chaos unmolested What magick in a life without design
All brimming with the will to push the line With toughened skin and smiles deft and wry What magick in a life without design The nameless wonders seen through wandering eye
A. Wylde
April 30th, 2021 NaPoWriMo 30/30
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awyldepoetry · 10 days ago
I remember you in sunflowers
Gold armor suits your golden heart and I’m jumpy, but you love to fight off the dark We are exiles
I keep every little thing inside my chest, we sleep and wake, roam and rest Cutting down trees to watch the disappearing leaves and counting sheep
Rendezvous in private meadows, I remember you in sunflowers and hours or exploring, cartographers, worlds known only to us and the only worlds we can share with me all here, and you all there
A. Wylde
April 29th, 2021 NaPoWriMo 29/30
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writelikefools2021 · 10 days ago
End of Big Earth - David Joseph Ostrowski - day 29
the silver slate of the swear word for goodness couldn’t have anything less to do with putting out to pasture the slightest bit of boy or other some sort of human being that would wage its war against the stain of sanded down body be it body of land or man or salt saturated water and then the fern is with leaf and the the cliff is with rock and it’s all roped off and there’s no way getting to it volume of cop and rabid dog is parasitic and i can’t stand it the word is just a letter and the paragraphs are ripping up until the moment the cheered up moon disappears into its own exceptional suspect darkness
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writelikefools2021 · 11 days ago
on the eve before it’s over - Uncle Scooter - day 29
i’m ok now. i think. like a still, breathless body, phrases are cold fingers now, intentions are flaccid muscles, meaning is a smaller vein drained of all its blood, love is a stiffening muscle rigidly mortis. a new gravity pulls upon those many thousands of words back and forth between us, and so easy when viewed from this exhumation to see the end in the beginning.
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mochiimoo · 11 days ago
...for just as we set boundaries only to have them shift away, so there is nothing in this transient world. As we consider today, it has grown tomorrow. As we consider spring, it has become autumn. As we consider the flowers, they have faded to yellow leaves. Is it not all summed up in 'swirling petals and falling leaves'?
Nijo Yoshimoto
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mochiimoo · 11 days ago
28. Questions | napowrimo
What does love look like?
by anv
crumpled sticky notes tucked into your packed lunch box why do you keep them?
is it b/c they matter? or b/c they don’t matter?
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wyrmflwer · 11 days ago
There is blood, there is flesh
There is the brittle structure of bone, there is concave lungs
This is what makes a body
But I am made of memories
Placed together, cracked at the seams
What was i like, back when i was whole?
I say as if I have not been broken from the start
This is not a melancholy rambling, a half-hearted stream of ennui. This is a fact of life; a fact of body
What would change if I was not the sole carrier of my being?
What if I did not have to be both broken bowl and potter?
I ask these questions, to no-one but myself, as if I am not terrified of who else I might be
My heart is a heavy thing; I feel its weight in my throat
But, I wonder,
If I were to reach past my chest, between the third and fourth rib,
I would not be meet with heart, but with soul
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mochiimoo · 11 days ago
Poetry is a fireplace in summer or a fan in winter.
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amyjasek · 12 days ago
First Black-Out Poetry Poem
First Black-Out Poetry Poem
The physical copy the room, well-dressed withmeticulouslytall, thin, angulareyes like a thunderbird seated oil and emery preparea seal, drilling that itmight be smoothed The golden glance,dusty, held highto visit the design suspectengagingly far (away) Low the days for Babylon,strange as an envoyof peace seemed Low, the days Our local library prepared a number of black-out poetry kits for…
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keepmyfingers · 12 days ago
#29, Brave New World
#29, Brave New World
And maybe one day I will wake up and know The world I knew is gone But new might be good too I grow in ways I didn’t know I could in the storms that I couldn’t have in calm water I will learn to live, again, and again, and again.
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mochiimoo · 12 days ago
I'm a Grisha girl, in a Grisha world
With the Darkling, see me sparkling
I can summon sun, while he kills everyone
Illumination is your salvation
— anv
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drunk-on-writing · 12 days ago
"extreme dissonance"
you say “agree to disagree” you say “don’t let politics divide us” you say “we don’t have to cut people out of our lives because of who they voted for” and my silence has become the background noise of our lives that we’ve grown so used to i wish i could scream at the top of my lungs how i know your intentions are pure but life is not this black and white i can’t agree to disagree when the topic is whether or not i deserve a safe life but when i hear those words i still find my voice lost like a night after a concert and i’ve never hated myself more
(cc, 2021)
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drunk-on-writing · 13 days ago
there were so many words and so many worlds existing inside of me desperate to breathe life in any way possible so i did the only thing that made sense: i picked up my pen
(cc, 2021)
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