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Ancient empires echo hear,
In deep space,
The sounds of far history,
Bleeds in near.

Energy traces from long ago,
Microwaves left from genesis,
Far in the star sea lies a trail to God,
Or an omen of future death.
In space we can still record ancient microwaves left from the big bang, they seeming warp and corrode time. They may even be the final resource we to achieve time travel!
Why are we drawn
to lust,
to the hunger of flesh,
to devour food
as if the body remembers
a hunger older than time?

Because we are soil!
And we desire
grain,
flesh,
which too rise
from soil.

Like calls to like.
Atoms seek atoms.

The universe obeys
its own silent gravity.

Our lust,
and longings
die
when we return
to the dust
we came from.
But even then,
it’s not over.

Our atoms will scatter
into soil,
into seeds,
into skins.

And somewhere,
in someone,
they will long
again.
Not with our name,
but with our echo.

Maybe, the bodies you see
are echoes,
of echoes,
of echoes...
of echoes…

..
.
Dust remembers the shape of longing...
But is dying merely a rebirth within the echoes
Of another's memory, in another's mind
Forever lingering in another’s heart –
Being this forever last touch?

Death, is far from silent, loudly resonating
Within the echoing tears of the living,
Not so cold; those cherished memories
Of you, ignites smiles that envelop us in warmth.

Though, as much as we know you now
We realize we never truly knew you at all!
Even in death, the narrative of your once
Existence, is living in another’s memories –
As a depth far beyond what we could even hold.
Daniel Tucker Apr 22
Since I was a child
I have fervently
Tried to filter out
Negative echoes
Of our history  
And focus
On each one.

Echoes are
Shockwaves
Throughout
Society
Building strength
And momentum as
They damage then
Ricochet off one
Person to another
Like a viral or
Bacterial infection
Mutating and building
Up resistance to our

Strong
  Mediocre
And
  Often
Feeble
Societal
Antidotes.

I try as many do
To be a  
Shock absorber --
A small part of
The solution;

Trying to help break
The vicious cycle by
Somehow attempting
To
Absorb the shockwaves

To help prevent them
From hitting someone
Else
Or at least
Lessening their strength
And momentum --

A form of harm
Reduction
I suppose.

Just lending an ear
And
Lending a shoulder
To lean on or
Cry on
Seems to be
An integral part in

Lessening the
Negative
Effects.
© 2025 Daniel I. Tucker

A poem from the living of my life.
Kenneth Apr 10
You long to return to a love you’ve never had.
A love that sits and wraps its arms around you—
Like a weighted blanket in the middle of the night.

The kind that seeps into a Sunday,
When the sun hits your shared coffee mugs just right.
The grocery run where his hand grazes yours,
And your heart skips like it’s never been touched that gently before.

The kind that leaves echoes.

You imagine them at the sink,
Brushing their teeth, half-laughing as they talk
Their voice, soft, tired, but loving—
And you smile too, even though no one’s there.

So here you are, chasing echoes—
Echoes that your soul remembers but you do not.
You can only imagine.

And still,
You leave the porch light on.
Just in case.
Lalit Kumar Mar 25
I walked through the quiet hush of dusk,
where echoes of dreams in shadows lay.
Soft whispers clung to the evening breeze,
calling me back to yesterday.

A lantern flickered deep in my chest,
its flame unsure, yet burning bright.
Through shattered paths and weary steps,
it carved its way into the night.

I gathered moments, thread by thread,
stitched them into skybound wings.
Though time may steal, and fate may fade,
some dreams still hum—some echoes sing.
I knew it!
I knew it wasn't real,
I knew the echoes of this place,
Were just misleading hooks in my face.
Look at all these people, real,
I swear they aren't simple clones,
Or were they all along?
Leave it in the past
Blackened
In shadows deep, where silence reigns, A journey marked by unseen chains.
Through corridors of night we tread, Seeking solace in the dread.
The echoes linger, cold and stark, In every heart, a lasting mark. To depths unknown, we cast our gaze, In twilight's grip, we lose our ways.
Enticed by voids, we break the ties, In newfound space, where darkness lies.
With every step, a story traced, In haste we move, yet time erased.
Caio Gomes Mar 6
Thrown into a space,
dark, frivolous, and suffocating,
sealed, with air
stale and unrenewable.

With every second that passes,
the feeling of exhaustion
pulses and oppresses,
with contractions of despair.

I despair. In a burst of energy,
I hurl myself against some exit,
invisible, intangible.

Waves and sharp surges
of despair overwhelm me,
flooding my soul—
restless and energetic,
tired and drained.

I seek, restless, to find
some way out of this place.

But stone walls
only echo my scream.

The futility of my attempts
corrodes my hope,
but a tiny crevice
opens in one of the walls,
pierced by the light.

It rekindles what remains,
killing despair -
partially.
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