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Poem Spot - [ on the spot ]



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203 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 8110
Reviews: 203
Sat May 29, 2021 12:38 am
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Liminality says...



He was sleeping when the red lights
washed over the garden, ink-black
shadows flew like crows across the green,
and the voice of the woman
called for him to leave and stand trial.

He walked away from his thatch hut
with nothing but the threadbare shirt
on his back, on his heart
and the voice of the woman
called for him to answer for crimes
in a language he did not understand.

As he went, he remembered the scent
of herbs and apples stewing in a broth,
and the voice of the woman
told him to forget.
  





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406 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 35738
Reviews: 406
Sun May 30, 2021 9:35 pm
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JustPerks says...



maybe she skipped too many steps
on her way to work,
maybe he should have lifted his gaze,
but their paths diverged for a second,
long enough to meet eyes, but not enough
to engage in a simple conversation.

instead their families watch the news
the next day, reading over headlines
of apologies and regrets,
of how a biker caught up to them
both in time to at least provide
first aid, but by the time
the ambulance arrived,
they had the chance to say thank you
and nothing more to close their eyes.
Formerly EditorAndPerks

They/Them
"I miss you / How long do I have to wait"
- Spring Day (BTS)
"Forget it / Erase all sad memories"
- 2! 3! (BTS)
  





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1072 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 134475
Reviews: 1072
Mon May 31, 2021 4:39 am
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alliyah says...



today i would even trade the bird-songs
for my home; they used to make good company
but lately they taunt me with their migration-making
and i have to be careful because
it's dangerous jumping off cliffs and hoping
i remember how to fly when i am no bird;
when i have no wings for flight; it seems i am
only un-nested, only restless, only
flightless dream-making; today i swear,
i would trade every grating bird-song
if it meant i could be home; but since
the sun doesn't barter dreams for wagered melodies
i'll need to make my own songs instead;
humming to myself the trickle sound the river makes
as she catches the sand, under my breath
whisper wishing for the whoosh-sweep
of wind over plains meeting sky mile after mile,
trying to drown out all these taunting bird-songs
calling me to skies i can never, will never, catch,
and sometimes i wonder if the birds
in some tragic echo are singing
for the same reason as i do,
trying to drown out memories of
homes they can't reach
sky-straining; always un-nested;
always only a little too far, so we jump
and dream these straining arms are wings,
and maybe the truth is
we're all a little flightless.
i can't love you if you don't know the difference between teal & dark cyan
&
you should know i am a time traveler
&
there is no season as achingly temporary as now

  





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203 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 8110
Reviews: 203
Sun Jun 13, 2021 6:25 am
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Liminality says...



There is a place that her classmates passed,
on the way home she saw it last --
this room with a pallid white door
no one had gone in before.

If they hadn't been in a hurry to leave,
they might have learnt not to believe
the stories, that all uncharted rooms
are as flaky as dried ashen plumes.

This is the place that her peers have passed,
and she was the one that saw it last.
She loved its walls and left its halls,
to answer other wanderlust calls.
  





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40 Reviews



Gender: None specified
Points: 139
Reviews: 40
Sun Jun 13, 2021 8:22 am
rida says...



Sometimes
Things don’t need a rational explanation
They really don’t need to have to be a cause of
Science
They don’t need to be logical
Because sometimes, things just are

So you really don’t need to explain why
The minister’s daughter fell in love
With the mason’s son

And there’s really no explanation
That can satisfy science
To show why
A poet loves cliches
More than a bird loves sunset

And sometimes
You can defy gravity
Just to prove
That every hope rising
Doesn’t need to fall down
  





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203 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 8110
Reviews: 203
Mon Jul 26, 2021 12:42 pm
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Liminality says...



Frustration hops staccato siren song,
which lulls me into turn-taking RPGs.
Power-up for me to look into the eye
of some hot shot and see with rose thorns.

Then the sky breaks open into rain silence,
and I look down at my healthy hands.
Why bother to fight and ruin them?
Why plant rose seeds in a fallow field?
  





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47 Reviews



Gender: Demi girl
Points: 832
Reviews: 47
Tue Aug 10, 2021 3:17 am
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LizzyTyler says...



Fall to the floor,
Gaze with wide eyes,
At the stars,
Oh so high above.

Summer
To winter,
Winter to
fall,

Watch the seasons trickle by,
In an outpour,
As the stars spin
Across the sky.
[she/they]


”I’m not insane. My mother had me tested.”
  





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203 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 8110
Reviews: 203
Mon Sep 06, 2021 2:52 pm
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Liminality says...



Quiet ball of fury,
how do you test me.
My capability
to flow and let bygones
be bygones, the river
in the park beside my house
was a monsoon drain,
named after
the season when it worked
the hardest.
My strongest
strength was never
looking inward
or blaming myself,
the puddles
when the rain fell
always moved by spreading --

Quiet ball of fury,
will you detest me
if I do not permit you
to erupt?
  





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10 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 33
Reviews: 10
Tue Oct 19, 2021 8:25 am
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cryptologenic says...



newel of a star
axis spinning annular
glides into the night
  





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203 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 8110
Reviews: 203
Mon Nov 22, 2021 5:37 am
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Liminality says...



Leaf, don't ask others to fall with you.
Either they come of their own accord
or they do not come at all.

The pall of dying days pull us to a new movement,
but only some of us follow and the others are left behind,
because we were the ones holding up the roof.

When you spin through the wind, leaf, remember
it was not the tree that permitted you fall alone,
but your own small green kind.
  








The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
— Mark Twain