#28 days 28 poems

[pyrrhicallyspeaking]

Pisces, and They Who Pursued

Tiny little ships cresting along waters murky, crimson rivulets like ribbons wrapped around gifts of broken bodies, men

The golden eye of God sleeps behind curtains of weeping grey his holy angels trade trumpets for crashing cymbals and drums

Sea shanties drown in sailors' salted throats shut tighter than white knuckles rubbed raw on rough ropes snapping

The virgin temptresses with emerald skin and ruby eyes gold breasts and copper lips cast nets over lust and greed

Calloused hands and sunburnt skin, tangled braids and scratchy beards, wizened men and bloodshot eyes pay their currency in words

Barking and braying and bleating wilde-children of a prideful land what are fangs if not their own what is hunting if not their sport

Tiny little shipmen sinking, their teeth ripped out, their larynxes expelled the song of the sea, to never touch a siren's hand with a tallowed grip

[punchitmrsulu]

This is a photo of Cillian Murphy in the set of 28 Years Later. So, the zombie might not be Jim after all, which is a huge relief for me!

However, he could still be the zombie because this could also just be a flashback showing how he became the zombie. I’m hoping not but we can’t know for sure yet.

And I’m still very worried about what happened to Selena and Hannah.

[austin-friars]

[hersurvival]

Lain in plain sight,

Nothing more than another rock

Left in the grass.

As the first, I was immediately left

For the following clutch.

Mother would feign injuries,

Not to protect us,

But because she thrived on attention.

It's unfair to say father was inattentive,

However it felt as if he were always

75 feet away, physically distant.

27, never made a sound,

But I shout, "kill deer, kill deer."

"See me, see me."

@nosebleedclub June 17th - Killdeer

[bluebellhairpin]

Watching the 28 Years Later trailer and hearing the Boots poem? Freaky as FUCK. I have to watch these movies now.

[ksadvent]

Already Day 28? clings to December

I can't believe December is almost over!! Day 28 brings you a fic and a poem.

Title: maybe it's much too early in the game

Author: LieutenantDru

Fandom: Star Trek: Strange New Worlds Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Words: 907

Summary: Jim smiled. "So, what are you doing New Year's Eve?"

"That's today," Spock said. "For a few minutes longer."

"But what are you doing tonight?" Jim said. There was some kind of answer that he was looking for, some hidden layer to his question that Spock didn't understand.

In response to a prompt by gunstreet.

Title: dance with me by the fireside

Author: USS_Queertastic

Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Words: 66

Summary: With the backdrop of a quiet winter moment, basking in the afterglow, Spock invites Jim to slow dance by the fireside taking him in, in every sense. In response to a prompt by gunstreet.

[alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry]

My letters! all dead paper, ... mute and white ! —

And yet they seem alive and quivering

Against my tremulous hands which loose the string

And let them drop down on my knee to-night.

This said, ... he wished to have me in his sight

Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring

To come and touch my hand ... a simple thing,

Yet I wept for it! — this, ... the paper's light ...

Said, Dear, I love thee; and I sank and quailed

As if God's future thundered on my past.

This said, I am thine — and so its ink has paled

With lying at my heart that beat too fast.

And this ... O Love, thy words have ill availed,

If, what this said, I dared repeat at last!

Elizabeth Barrett Browning - Sonnet 28

[bebebisous33]

A Poem A Day/Jinx/ Painter Of The Night: The true Face of Family 👨‍👨‍👦‍👦👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

#Jinx #jinxchapter30 #징크스 #jinx @_MinGwa #kimdan #joojaekyung #jinxmanhwa #야화첩 #夜画帳 #seungkyum #PainterOfTheNight #potn #PintorNocturno The essay "The true face of family👩‍👩‍👧‍👦👨‍👩‍👧‍👧" is finished. Retweet/like it as support. Thanks.

Please support the authors by reading the manhwas on the official websites. This is where you can read the manhwas: Jinx and POTN  But be aware that these Manhwas are mature Yaois, which means, it is about homosexuality with explicit scenes. If you want to read more essays about Painter Of The Night, here is the link to the table of contents. Here is the link of the table of contents about…

[pyrrhicallyspeaking]

If Only We Knew How Shallow These Rivers Were

Let us build bridges this time the olive branches now trees we catch up with the seasons the flags we raise are white

Let us build bridges once more weary cobblestone sighs in grey there is so much to be traded may these new lines aid us so

Let us build bridges over these rivers below run a muddy brown the cracks can always be filled our wits allay these little fears

Let us build bridges together it is odd, is it not, that even now our builders never saw each other working under black moon's smile

Let us build bridges for once the kind made by two pairs of steady hands flushed pink eager to finally tread the path

Architects of a certain promise we always forget to let ourselves enjoy the labors of connection come, let us finally stop building

Finally, we walk on these bridges

[trendingnews25]

see full movie: Click

[chonospoem-a-day]

[scretladyspider]

Seven—six—eleven—five—nine-an'-twenty mile to-day —

Four—eleven—seventeen—thirty-two the day before —

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again!)

There's no discharge in the war!

Don't—don't—don't—don't—look at what's in front of you.

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again);

Men—men—men—men—men go mad with watchin' em,

An' there's no discharge in the war!

If—your—eyes—drop—they will get atop o' you!

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again) —

There's no discharge in the war!

Try—try—try—try—to think o' something different —

Oh—my—God—keep—me from goin' lunatic!

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again!)

There's no discharge in the war!

-excerpts from “Boots”, written in by Rudyard Kipling, published in 1903, as read by Taylor Holmes, recorded in 1915 (the trailer does not utilize the full poem)

28 years later trailer

He's in it more than I expected honestly

[captainpirateface]

[gtunesmiff]

2024 APRIL POEM-A-DAY CHALLENGE: DAY 28 ~ NINETY MILES AN HOUR DOWN A DEAD-END STREET

NINETY MILES AN HOUR DOWN A DEAD-END STREET © 2024 G. Smith (BMI) =================== Up before the sunrise, Bolting out the door, Trying to beat the rush hour, Like every day before.

Cuppa joe in one hand, Backing out the drive, Heading in to work, For the same old nine-to-five.

Put in sixty hours, On a forty hour week, Bills to pay, mouths to feed, Playing hide-n-seek.

Chores galore in the great outdoors, Never get a sec, To watch the sunset, count the stars, Or sit and catch my breath,

I’m running ninety miles an hour down a dead-end street. Burning the soles from the shoes on my feet; Barely slowing down to greet the people that I meet, Running ninety miles an hour down a dead-end street. Ninety miles an hour down a dead-end street.

I guess I’ve always known, I’m not the work I do, And though I do enjoy it, I’m nobody without you.

So climb in here beside me, Join me on the drive, We’ll turn and go the other way, Happy to be alive.

Quit running ninety miles an hour down that dead-end street, Burning holes in the soles of the shoes on our feet. Start taking time to savor the moments oh, so sweet, Quit running ninety miles an hour down that dead-end street. Quit running ninety miles an hour down that dead-end street. Let’s mosey hand-in-hand and maybe stop and take a seat.

[mmwm]

WRITE 28 DAYS: DREAM POEMS - Day 28

Part of my Feb 2024 Dream Poems project. I started with a poem I wrote in 2015, titled Shadow of Spring, and I almost completely rewrote it today, and retitled it. Vernal Equinox In the first place,dates aren’t solid.A calendar can take you onlyso far. A map as well.There’s data and there’s your life lived,a certain green or mud or birdsong that awakens, life and lush seeping,rasping like a…

[barelyevenwriting]

Day 28 Body as a Weapon

Please mind the roaring tides,

The gaps between ribs, so tender and blue.

    Keep your distance,

Feet set apart and fingers curled

Into sweat slicked palms.

    When he moves,

The world's been taught to hold its breath,

Not out of fear or anger,

But because it has learnt that his bones need time

To remember where they can settle down

Without pain.

    He will never find solace in the agony

Of making someone else feel

The grinding of bones,

The halting of time.

    He will lie to you, to himself and the quiet,

And braid his own pain through his stories

Until they cannot know

That it's his chest cracked open

And dripping sadness.

    He will use his body as a weapon,

Distraction and conjured up misdirection.

Hands twisted and numb,

Bitter cold.

    He will sway with the wind,

And make it look like a warning,

Snarling teeth and glassy eyes.

    He will not lie.

Misdirection tastes sweet on his lips,

But he cannot fathom the storm of deception.

    He will, instead

Allow you to see the cracks

Others have put down on his skin

As testimony of the violence he can survive.

    Please mind the roaring tides,

While they hide the sweet center

An ocean of calm.

    Be gentle around healing ribs,

their cracks tender and open.

    Do not let him lie,

Don't be fooled by the angers

So many have written down on his skin.