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A little collection of poetry

Updated on June 5, 2014


Are they the souls that died long
ago, but remind us to live?
The souls that appear to dwindle
in the light of the day, but
are the light of the darkness
despite being a graveyard of suns.

Is he the blue that seems so
lonely, but allows dreamers to love?
Sometimes white or grey or red,
he’s the chameleon of the night.
Sometimes he is whole, and
sometimes he half hides in the infinite
vastness of his empty home.

Are we the insignificant that believed
we were more, but will never last?
The ones that live now but not for
long, we are dust in the wind,
barely a fingerprint on the mud
we have created our home on,
in our demise we are forgotten
to the universe non-existent. 


A colleague broke up with their partner
so I gave them my hand
A cousin was involved in a car accident
so I gave them my foot
A friend lost their mother
so I gave them my legs
A sibling came home weeping
so I gave them my arms
A mother returned a widow
so I gave them the rest

I kept only one thing.

A boy came in smiling
so I gave him my heart.
And in his possession I still
existed, somehow

A boy forgot to place me
in the window for the light,
I wilted in the shade
and no one gave me anything. 


Imagine you are water,
you are the power of the sea
with its vastness, strength
in a single rain drop, that is
both land and sky, so wild,
you can venture beyond
your ocean through the mud
creating veins like your footsteps,
you are so free
you are boundless.

Water trapped in a bottle,
This is how patience feels.  


I must embed like seeds
of flowers that will grow
the weight of your arm.

I shall remember like dreams
caught between my teeth
the warmth of your breath.

I will repeat like videos
jutting on a single image
the pull at my stomach.

I am embracing you again
in the memories I hold to me
the fitting of our bodies.


Voilà, voilà,
there’s a word I want to find,
and when I find it, it will feel 
Voilà, voilà,
there’s a moment I want to breathe
and when it surrounds me I’ll whisper
Voilà, voilà,
there it is
there you have it. 


There are types of plants
that grow back after withering
or dehydrating, or being murdered.
Not only the pests, the weeds
but the beautiful kinds.
Then there are those
that need replanting.
Irises; they know the truth.
Once withered you
will not bloom again
in the same space of soil
Trust can apologise,
but trust can not be
replanted in these families.


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