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#prosetry
lebuc · 2 months
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green tea musings
* from my lofty perch on high, lowered onto the landscape - the realm of flora & fauna
precious few things rend a tear of regret
as much as watching the destruction of said 'scape one property contract at a time, brick at a time, excavation by excavation
for ostentatiously austere hovels stacked, not sprawled
with the attendant coffee & noodle - ahem, palaces of baristas, noodlistas young, hip foodies posturing…
against this backdrop walks this - i swear i'm not jealous -
grossly-nostalgic, jaded jackalope of a scrawler, scraping barren boulevards in literary lost cities of angels,
still freshly paved over what once were cobblestones carefully laid by craftsmen, brick by brick by brick.
in them i keep walking until *we* hit an unending field of green, green grass - me & my two bare feet. * 3/24 - lebuc - green tea musings
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heart-songs · 6 days
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The one where I confess that I am unapologetically soft
how my heartbeat mimics the wind, invisible but far-reaching. With gossamer fingers I braid my hair, brew the tea, knead the bread. On obsidian nights, I gather dried lavender and listen for the willow. I have cradled newborn heads on the crest of my collarbone patched wounds with rose petal kisses, unwound the deepest of aches with worn-out denim and bare skin. I have carried the dead, cried my weight in tears. I am soft, and my hands are small but I would hold the sun for you, blister ‘til you no longer wish to be a burn. I am soft, and my voice is softer. It was made to breathe poems into the scruff of your neck to lay the ghosts of your worst fears to rest eternal. I am soft, and we are only a moment but my love will linger long after the willow stops weeping.
- Cora Finch
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azukilynn · 7 months
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ambivalence
how do you tell those few people who matter, who actually care, that you do not want to die but that you aren't very keen about living either
how do you iterate this going through the motions: clock-in, clock-out, eat, sleep, lather, rinse, repeat as nothing more than madness, sorrow, rage, silence, this endless, lonely fortitude
how do you sit on a fence without falling to either side, beauty here, decay there, both of them alluring, like the Sirens of Odysseus
how do you tell your best friend that you love her more than anything in this world, for calling you Sweet Sister
how do you straddle a conundrum, do you grip it with your upper thighs, as if it were a bucking horse, untamed, not yet broken, wild
how do you survive
azuki lynn
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poetryshewrote · 2 years
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two hearts
two aching hearts, intertwined.
both of them, cards on the line.
neither of them, surrender their pride.
two futures that no longer align.
how their love, now disoriented.
separation seemingly cemented.
two aching hearts, pulled apart.
not entirely ready to restart.
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flowersandspacestuff · 2 months
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Many sweet birds flying high
In the pale blue sky
Sun gently illuminating
The invisible electromagnetic fields of trees
Dawn coming on
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redrcs · 1 year
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Well
well. such a single syllable which denotes: a water filled hole; good health; an expression of fatuousness; ironic statement; querulous interrogation of adult to child; a lack of patience; or patients. or just how I don't feel. you guess which
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mikefrawley · 2 years
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If not here, where? If not now, when? If not you, whom?
If Not
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winters-tales · 2 months
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Skies
Tonight, the skies were beautiful.   There’s poetry in the everyday, and sometimes you’re helpless, forced to watch it play out instead of being free to record it. Those are the moments that you have to take in, experience, there and then, because you’re not capturing it to revisit again and again. Tonight, the skies were beautiful, and I was driving.
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heart-songs · 12 days
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between the hours of blood rush and burnt coffee our little universe e x p a n d s
for a time we choose to ignore the allotment of quiet light where shadows sometimes bloom into half-truths. the stress fractures bedframes withstand while cradling our restless desire. the secret lives of tongues, teeth, and gums condensing twenty-six letters into just two. then one. the inert friction of tumbling heart-first into utter unknowns. the soured morning breath of regret
we prefer to overlook. we scatter pieces of ourselves across the thicket of apartment floors. we answer the ache in our bellies with hips that do not question. fumbling fingers string pearls of sweat onto spinal cords, waistlines, and necks. jelly wobbles the hollows of knees. we make shapes with our mouths that do not resemble the last impression we had of each other. we let the shushing of sheets lull our tangled bones into stillness. we make sense of everything. until there is nothing left to do but feel for the edges of the sun and push back.
- Cora Finch
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torrentialmonsoon · 2 years
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we decided to give you a name that meant rain-bearing cloud, a leader, a saviour. and that's exactly what you have been. my reason to fight, to fight for my life. the rain that kept me alive. you led me to find happiness. you saved me from literal death. - my first poem since being a mother; my first poem ever to my son, my saviour.
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azukilynn · 10 months
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the minute rain hits the ground in certain places, it activates our senses, reminds us where we come from, reminds us where we're headed, too
today, i'm in the garden, hands empty, eyes closed, immersed in this heady scent, this dusky, earthy almost-ness
today, i am a wolf, nostrils flaring, muddy pawed
breathing—tasting
petrichor
azuki lynn
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patronage
take me again, as you have a thousand times and a thousand more
do what must be done, just fuck me up
crack me open again to your calculating eyes and rearrange
pull out what doesn't make the cut, implant what's needed, switch some ports around and rewire at your leisure
at my oath
i've known the agony without anesthesia more times than not so don't fret, i don't like painkillers anyway
smile your crooked triangled smile for me, Son of the Leafy Isle, let me glimpse your laughing pockmarked lips, the pain will come and go in ripples
let it shake the whole Earth as i scream spells into jagged winds from the rock on which i'm bound
i have always belonged to you and always will, so take our shared heart in your clawed hand to keep this thing beating for me
i will bleed out as many times as it takes
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braiindeath · 2 months
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he says “blood is thicker than water”.
she smiles. “i agree. the blood of my injuries is thicker than the water of your tears.”
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lebuc · 11 months
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Breakfast of Champions, Pt. 2
* Damn storm. F'd up the neighborhood & my sleep last night...
And, now having to babysit my girl’s niece Lily while she goes shopping for her friend's baby shower instead of chilling in bed with me this late morning.  Life's sense of humor at its finest, i thought, ending the call with Maya.
Those Cheerios tasted like cardboard & the whisky did nothing for my feeling of dread. Breakfast of Champions, right?  Only today, it's all falling flat.
--
After Maya left, I trudged into the living room, where Lily was playing with her doll,  She looked up at me, all innocence and glee, so I mustered a smile.
"Hey, Lily. What do you want to do today?" I asked, cynicism in check, hopefully.
Her eyes lit up. "Uncle Thrall, let's play dress-up! I have a princess costume!"
Great - I get to be a pretend prince with a makeshift prince's costume to match, fumbling through my work shirts, spiraling toward a new life's low.
But I played along. We twirled, danced, frolicked in a world of make-believe, pretending everything was hunky-dory; my energy draining with every forced smile.
Hours passed, and exhaustion began to gnaw at me like a hungry rat. The tea party, make-believe adventures, and the godforsaken puppet show sapped nigh every ounce of vigor from these ol' bones.
Collapsing onto the couch, letting out a hopefully not too exasperated sigh, Lily sensed my mood and climbed onto the couch beside me, her little voice filled with empathy.
"Uncle Thrall, you look tired. Want to take a nap?" Ok, kid. A nap sounded like a goddamn dream right now. We dozed off on the couch, she & I.
For one fleeting moment, my grey clouds melted away, if only for a little while.
Life had thrown me a babysitting fastball - low and outside & i crushed it over the right field wall, tho' fatigued.  I knew one lady friend who'd be waiting in the dugout with champagne to pop corks over, later tho’.
So Maya returned, finding us asleep like some ambered family portrait.
Waking up gently, expressing her gratitude, i saw Lily rubbing her eyes, stretching with the innocence of a child. I couldn't help but crack a wan smile.
Life is not duplicative.
It's usually just a feckless S.O.B messing with your plans.
But sometimes, just sometimes, it throws you a curveball - strike that - a fastball, like i said, that you can handle. In such moments, even jaded fans can find glimpses of something approaching beauty.
Continuing my search for that elusive P.O.G. at rainbow's end, I'll look back on this day. Pretending with Lily gave me a bittersweet respite.
It doesn't make the struggle any easier, but reminds me that - along with a good nap - amidst all the folderol, there's still a sliver of something worth holding onto that doesn't include alcohol. ( poetic? well...) * 6/23 - lebuc -  Breakfast of Champions, Pt. 2 * Part one: https://lebuc.tumblr.com/post/716981799422656512/breakfast-of-champions-pt-1-life-is-not
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