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the passing seasons - a poem
time ticks by with no respite
days ago it was winter
now summer’s already begun
time ticks on and on and on
summer’s passed and now it’s fall
leaves are orange, brown, then gone
winter’s knocking on the door
time ticks on, clocks won’t stop moving
winter greets with cheerful snow
time ticks on and on and on and
we keep moving, neverending
in a spiral winding tighter
every time it turns around
now it’s spring and now it’s fall!
time ticks on and on and on
seasons come and seasons go
winter's almost now returned
even now i see the summer’s end
- m.k.
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it's not hard to be a stranger
in a place you know so well
biking roads and fields and forests
with the sun up shining bright
i have missed this place so greatly
and i’ll miss it still tonight
- m.k.
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the movies tell you you’re unlovable they sell you a dream, tightly packed in a coming-of-age title wrapped in This-Spring-In- Theaters with a bow of happily ever after where the sky is full of lens flare and your friends laugh at your jokes and you climb the rooftop until you see the stars and you hold her hand and she shows you her heart and you dance on ratty carpets in the garage to 80s tunes on the radio (and you quote Keats and Wilde and the Bard until your throat is sore) and all your pain and heartache leads to a finale where everything you’ve done is summed up in a carefully-crafted monologue about young love and young minds and the summer sun.
but you are never good enough
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DENIAL - the Five Stages of Grief of Orpheus, part 1
The forest is dark and deep and dense
That’s why I cannot see her face
She’ll call out soon, that she is lost
Her voice ring out, our paths will cross
A tree cannot collapse alone
There is no thing that’s carved in stone
The only guarantee in life
Is that hope and love always survive
I see her hand, I think it’s her
Among the trees, in the dark, it’s a blur
My eyes too weak, my heart’s unsure
Are those her shoes, resting on the moor?
I know she’s there, I’ll see her soon
For now I’ll walk to my heart’s scrambling tune
- m.t.
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eurydice’s lament
That day, a fresh summer morn’ the trees sung the melody of our love
Wading through the moss bare feet washed clean by the dew I heard your lire from afar As the sun shone through a passing cloud, casting shadows on green leaves There you were, sitting amongst a crowd
And suddenly, all dark The cold enveloped me with its boney arms darkness hid the world away but all i could think of was your eyes those eyes-- closed and thoughtful open and loving, gentle and smiling those memories, illuminating the darkness my orpheus, my bard, the light at the end of my life
- m.t.
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aftermath
You learn to rebuild after a hurricane, patch up the shattered expectations and fix broken hearts, clean up the debris, put the walls back up, mending the cracks in bricks with super-strength glue.
You relearn to walk through the breeze unbothered; to let the gentle wind caress your skin once again
- m.t.
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the train tracks
the train tracks the curves and edges of our story the ebbing and flowing, the lonely, the untold out the window: our days of glory on the horizon: our future, undefined i hope we stay by each other until we grow old
the path follows our trails intertwined the sun streams in through a gap in the blind we pass by rivers, deer, forests between each station yet all i can think about is nature’s best creation
and i’m happy, overjoyed, ecstatic i’m not exaggerating when i say i’m coming home though i do have a flair for the dramatic
My heart sings a joyful song As the train drives on and on
Oh, what a beautiful morn’!
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each morning
i pick out pieces of myself from my dreams
glue back the fragments lost amidst the paperbacks
pour myself back into the veins
drop by drop
until the heart begins to thaw
then sigh, parts still amiss,
and continue forth
- m. t.
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You hold the souls of all the secret lovers before you The silent memories of their hands intertwined Their names burnt from the chronicles of time Live on in your acts, exist on your tongue
Your body is a monument to all they couldn't be Your existence is their legacy Each time you walk a taxing path They valiantly trudged before you Their ancient hands hold you upright They're remembered in lieu
Your voice carries all the words they couldn't speak Even when that voice is weak
They're Atlas, Prometheus, All heroes held with disdain They hold this world on their shoulders Their boldness and struggles prevail
And though you cry and though you ache their hands will reach out each time to remind you you're not alone on the toughest hills you'll climb
Their memories, like fire they glow Their love echoes for centuries The permanent stain of their memories Will light the trail you plough
- m.t.
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in a better world our teeth don't hurt when we bite into the rotten apple
the sin of adam doesn't touch our bodies otherwise made for pirouettes our pain doesn't equal our existence our pain doesn't make us whole
in a better world we're divine we bathe in rivers in the moonlight
we don't grow armour around our chests we let our hearts and minds roam free we don't submit, we don't succumb we believe, we become the blazing fires we've always meant to be
in a better world the witch doesn't burn on the stake our knowledge is a blessing to the universe not a curse
we see the flesh for what it is not for what it could be the mirror never cracks in half when fiction and reality don't agree
in a better world we don't dream of a world where we are free to walk the earth with our heads held high to walk an earth where the F means freedom and no one bats an eye
in a better world we thrive in this world, we are barely alive
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creatures of the forest, take me home i am so weary yet hungry for more
creatures of the forest help me fly away up to the horizon further and further away
creatures of the forest may the sun swallow me whole fill the darkness with light let it console my soul
creatures of the forest oh, what must i do to have you steal me away to where i can start anew
creatures of the forest i’ve never felt such hunger for the magical worlds i dreamt of when i was younger
creatures of the forest i offer you the fruit of my labour it isn’t much, just a poem but i hope it turns the odds in my favour
creatures of the forest ancient friends of mine how much longer must i suffer till i reach the borderline
-m.t.
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we’re all dying in the fire tomorrow, but tonight, tonight we are reborn, tonight we’ll get what we desire even if it’s forlorn
we raise our voices to the night hope that the moon can hear and deep inside our beating hearts there is no place for fear
only a gentle touch of hand can startle our steady minds for only higher powers of the skies will be allowed to command
- m.t.
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The sun rose with the applause of metal against metal. Swords clashed, shaping holy crosses, wedging between presents and futures. The aroma of destruction hung in the air, among the fog, alight with an orange hue, and warmth settling onto the ground like a blanket on a heavy sleeper.
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i’m too tired to think
the words curl up in crooks in my mind
they lie under leaves and overgrown vines
they sigh with content after a long day at work
and drift off to sleep, peaceful and home
- m.t.
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white and gold
paint yourself white and gold straight teeth and straight back straight thoughts and a smile look straight ahead do not glance to the side lest you see a world so much different that our follow straight lines on the map-- wholly true do not question a think that's not “straight” of you
and if you pursue an askew life path you will lose all your gold will you survive the aftermath?
- m.t.
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The air crackled with electricity, as a bright blue light in the shape of an orb began to form about two metres above the cracked concrete. It grew, pulsating, and giving off a sound like a gunshot in reverse, pitched up and slowed down. The air around it rippled. A faint smell of lavender drifted out of the orb (which was now about one metre in diameter.) An actual piece of lavender followed it, chucked out of the orb. It looked as of it was singed off by a burning blade at the stem.
The orb tightened ever so slightly, then expanded, an electric current busting a nearby power box, and a human-like shape flew out of the light, face first into a nearby hedge.
It was a man. He was of average height (though it was hard to tell when half of him was embedded into a hedge), of average build, and of average age (around thirty-five, forty at most). He was, in most senses, moderately average. Even his tweed suit, paired with light blue sneakers and a maroon messenger bag slung across his shoulder, looked basic.
He pulled himself upright, tugging leaves out of the mess of hair on his head, and came face-to-face with a stone-faced teen girl.
"You've got a spider on your suit," she said, pointing to his shoulder with a sharp nail.
Her voice sounded bored, the sort of voice teen girls put on to make the world pay less attention to them.
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an ex-lovers' duet: a poem
- m.t.
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