#28 days 28 poems
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pyrrhicallyspeaking · 2 years ago
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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
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austin-friars · 1 month ago
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hersurvival · 5 months ago
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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
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ksadvent · 11 months ago
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Already Day 28? clings to December
I can't believe December is almost over!! Day 28 brings you a fic and a poem.
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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.
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alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry · 10 months ago
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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
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bebebisous33 · 1 year ago
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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…
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chonospoem-a-day · 28 days ago
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captainpirateface · 1 month ago
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pyrrhicallyspeaking · 2 years ago
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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
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gtunesmiff · 7 months ago
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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.
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mmwm · 9 months ago
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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…
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barelyevenwriting · 1 year ago
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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.
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marimuntanya · 2 years ago
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Come, Come, Whoever You Are
Rumi
Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving. It doesn’t matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vow
a thousand times Come, yet again, come, come.
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dragonfootprintsprose · 2 years ago
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April 2023 Poem a Day Challenge #28
For being such a long poem, I’m again not a fan of it. I like the name and I like the core concept that is really the 3rd stanza. Maybe I’ll revisit it one day? 
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writinginnorthnorfolk · 2 years ago
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I followed Emily’s steps in Haworth
I didn’t realise we had so much in common: birth and baptism (of couse) attempts at gardening books and reading (of course) juvenile writing and poetry (naturally) novel writing and a diary (love of) art and music imaginary world and depression teaching contentment at home stay in Brussels I lived in Cologne and Ireland) return to England visit to York (she with Anne I with daughter and…
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angelus-a13 · 2 years ago
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a misunderstanding
taking a step out of sync stumbling, her hand catches me and we smile my heart stutters and i know my soul has taken a left at the ‘right turn’ sign clinging to one another, laughter erupting I beg her to get it over rip off the bandaid, rip out my heart I can cope with her sharp nails biting my ribs tearing open my flesh with careless teeth blood dripping from her chin, as sweet as syrup my eyes locked with hers fever bright and i am burning up in her atmosphere I know i won’t make it out of here unscathed I know she doesn’t know, and decide i don’t care anymore
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