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#short poems
ishxni · an hour ago
Swimming pools - ishani 
There’s something comforting about watching stars twinkle in the dark dark night sky.
Like they’re lost souls, finding their way to heaven, or watching down on the people they left behind.
Like the sky is a pool of wishes that people have made upon a shooting star, hoping that maybe the universe would wait for five more minutes.
Someone call T.S Eliot and tell him that his greatest poems have been left behind, coded in the stars for me to write down and share with the world.
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vileofriles · 2 hours ago
Eyes staring from the trees
Watching me bathe
under a cheap hose
Eyes staring into my soul
Crying for my flaws
for my scars
Eyes staring right through me
Reading like I'm just
a simple book
Eyes all around
Taking in my nudity
Judging what I cannot control
Eyes cast down
Hiding from what I've done
pretending the world I live in isn't-
Eyes glaring over flaws
Ripping them to bits because
they aren't bad like you, they're better
Eyes gazing dreamily
Towards the girl who's "perfect"
filled with jealousy, we are consumed
Eyes blinking away their tears slowly
At all the hurtful words being said
at all the games being played
Eyes hiding all their sorrow
For yesterday and
for tomorrow
Eyes hold many things
That we cannot see
we can't fathom.
Our eyes.
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iasoa · 2 hours ago
How can you be so little,
But not have a sense of the gargantuan?
(May 2021)
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erinblairediaries · 3 hours ago
Poetry is a good companion. Poetry makes me feel less alone in times of joy or pain. But almost always, it keeps me good company in pain.
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mleighsquickspot · 3 hours ago
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Lost among the voices a child once couldn't find her place
Only one refuge a mother figure who would guide a young on with a smiling face
Once that connection was lost it would be long before another came again
Until then there were only the voices and shapes that would appear every now and then
It took time to find trust in another for her as the whispers kept coming
She learned to live with them, to help them as in turn in some ways they would also guide her
To what or where she wouldn't know until later in time, much much later in life
Until then there was only her and the whispers in her mind
Those around didn't always understand until something would happen and they needed her guiding hand
The whispers would grow then become faint, time brought many many voices her way
Each one their own story that made her own more unique
Yet for every light at the end of a tunnel there were just as many danger lurking
Over time as many connections that were made there were many that were taken away, even the one connection she treasured most
His whispering almost drive her insane until a solution of the up most unlikeliness presented itself
Time continued to more her along things changed with a birth if new light that took her whispers by surprise
Darkness seemed to try harder to drown out her whispers among those who else choose to live in the light
With each danger that would pass she only grew more capable and into her own
It was always meant for her to pass on her knowledge to the next who would take on the whispers for better or for worse...
Making them his own
image - abigaillarson | Creepy art, Abigail larson, Cool art
Let me know what you think and pass the thought along my friends 💗.
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afsheensdiary · 3 hours ago
You’re Mine
By her window, she would watch the birches grow old.
Each branch is laden with a thick blanket of snow.
She would peek a little of the boy through the curtains and the birches.
When in the early morning, he would walk down the streets across her home.
His hands in his pockets were nothing new for her to know.
She counted every time he would pass by her window.
When through her ears, the melody of his whistle would blow.
Her scarlet flustered cheeks and wide doe eyes did something to the boy's beating heart.
When he stops in his tracks and looks up at the girl hiding behind her window.
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astoryscribbler · 5 hours ago
Every day begins
with me ignoring
these phantom wings
holding me close
begging me to believe
I've not asked what
I'm supposed to believe in yet
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baileyblushpoetry · 5 hours ago
I can't even remember your name
And I guess that's a good thing
But I remember your face in the night
With the light of the cars passing by
The way you talked about sadness
Like it was a song
I called you one day to invite you over
But your line had been cut
You were already gone
𝒃𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒉
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perdituspoems · 5 hours ago
The Crevice
Avoiding the cracks is a game we played for the little ant more of a crusade He is not scared of the awkward crack For this little ant the crevice he will bravely attack
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perdituspoems · 6 hours ago
Glorious hailstones the cascading torrent sky’s wonder or over-worldly tyrant
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nxcxlxx · 8 hours ago
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎.
𝚂𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝.
𝚂𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔.
𝚂𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕.
𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖.
𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜.
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leveysmusings · 9 hours ago
Question Mark
I am not afraid of the dark what truly scares me is the question mark at the end of my every worry because the future seems dreary Should I pursue what I love or hold a 9 to 5 and behove myself to the glittery gold promises of money and security
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lost-ash-es · 11 hours ago
there's a man in the hallway looking at me
i see him out the corner of my eye
i turn my head to face him
now he's gone, tell me why
there's a boy in the street waving at me
i see him out the corner of my eye
i turn my head to face him
now he's gone, tell me why
now i'm off to work walking fast
and they are walking too
i can't seem to escape them
but i can't see them as true
one almost says something
he wants to say it bad
but he stops himself before he does
and it sometimes makes me sad
there's a girl in my room laughing at me
i see her out the corner of my eye
i turn my head to face her
now she's gone, tell me why
there's a person quickly walking to me
i see them out the corner of my eye
i turn my head to face them
now they're gone, tell me why
now i don't know who's real or fake
and who is not to trust
at times i feel they are okay
while i just turn to dust
i really want to see them soon
though i know i never will
they'll always be too far away
so i'll just sit here, still
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nowthisisdark · 11 hours ago
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
-PB Shelley
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