Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Michelle A Ford Mar 2021
Good Morning Sunday
I have waited all week for you
To be with me in thought and light prayer too

We have been again thru a long week
some of it quite chaotic
Ending so gently and happily cathartic
  
People and places pains of past and present
seemingly disappear

Entering in the ***** kitchen window
Sunshine breaks thru

Collecting my coffee
and whats left of my sanity
I inhale a habit

My heart is confused but light
as I pray in the same

Our Father is always best
when we are just ourselves
and let him
Take the helm and this day to rest

I am all that you think but none that you know
Father grant us serenity
Sunday Vibes to Flow
#happySunday #poetryconfession #iamokay #theatricaldiagnosis #GodBlessUsAll #Iwontgiveup #Istilllove #tryinghardertorelax
She sits on the cold tile floor
Her life flashes before her eyes
4 am regrets.

The lack of sleep is just getting to her.

The shadows loom over the curtains
The pictures of her past start collapsing on the floor
Her head hits the back of the wooden bed panel

Could you wish for anything more unhanded?

The music from the neighbors flat echoes into the night
The barely visible drawings on the wall sneer at her
Its past her bedtime.

Who are you waiting up for anymore?

The ringing in her ears grow louder
The hours pass by slipping through the cracks of the drain.
Who are you crying to anymore?

There is no one to confess to.

The mirror overshadows the bed like church pews at midnight
She tells her that she never loved her.
She disappeared into the clouds that loom over the moon.

Her watch tells her to sleep.

She sighs and climbs back into bed
She remembers that she never loved her.
She remembers the scars that trail along her back.

Her life cannot help but flash before her eyes.

The ceiling morphs and twists
Her eyes flutter shut as her mind plays its tricks
She caresses the scars that itch at the roots of her hair.

Maybe its better this way for everyone.

She can no longer hear the heart beating slowly in the closet
Her mother told her that she is worthless
She begs for the sleep to take her.
Before her mind starts wandering to that point.

The darkness feels cool against her skin
The crooked mattress settling in its place
She sleeps on her side to avoid the bedroom mirror
The world grows still around her as it walks

on ******* eggshells.

The dawn permeates through the broken window sill
She never was a heavy sleeper.
She went missing out of nowhere
The ringing of her phone echoed in her ears

like Sunday bells.

And there was no more trace of the former shadows that pitifully gazed at her in the corners of her room.

-Kore
yoOOu never loved me moooooooom but i needed you woaAaah
Troy Wylie-Hill Feb 2021
I sometimes talk to others with the same tone I talk to myself
With the same criticality, the same distain
Sometimes I don’t
Sometimes I’m forgiving, I’m tender
Sometimes I’m compassionate and kind
I must remember this
To keep it in mind
For the next time
Myself and I
Speak again
short Sunday musings
ce-walalang Feb 2021
...a pillow
...another pillow
...mixtapes and re-runs
..."500 days of" DVD
...the TV on mute
...your restless hopeful heart
end of weekend companion
Matt Jan 2021
Years ago,
They used to sleep late
And dance around their kitchen.

Before arthritis and cod liver oil,
Before endless hospital appointments,
Before the cancer devoured his wife.

They had spent their life savings,
On doctors who couldn’t save her life.

Penniless, alone and vulnerable,
He could no longer look after himself.

He stopped existing in a government care home,
With nurses who never smiled
And room mates who stared at the TV,
Like flowers facing the sun.

His children didn’t visit on Sundays,
They were busy sleeping late
And dancing around their kitchens.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2021
Ein Bisschen
Un poco
an arbitrary bit of art as intuited.

Did you defy the order of life's proper
sequence, by knowing next begins after
the Hallelujah, right and proper,

that's the stopper.
There, dear reader, we pause and ponder,
as in
Selah.
Right and proper.

A bit off here, a bit from there, pack it into
a classical schema, which
was a word I learned after learning scheme
as the core concept used to form conspiracy,
you see,
if you were, in an immaterial sense, feeling
we are similar,
perhaps we are common, good thought of
as a type of person any mind may make up,
to tell a long and winding story as if it is
this one,
life,
life on earth, 2021.

After the changes, when we remove the masks,
we see others of my kind, mit **** sapience sapience-augmentated,
we be, in a greegri state
seeds of former
things informing
us, subjects  of all we know as good or evil,
good for us, not evil for me, once
enough is realized.

Realizing just enough to manifest a will to make good.
Aye, AI, there we have it.
Make up, test.
You bit, you chew, you bitchew. Life is fun, once,
for a little while.
Seventy or eighty years...
who knows how long our words remain.

schema (n.)plural schemata, 1796, in Kantian philosophy
("a product of the imagination intermediary between an image and a concept"),
from Greek skhema 
"figure, appearance, the nature of a thing,"
related to skhein "to get,"
and ekhein "to have, hold; be in a given state or condition,"
from PIE root *segh- "to hold."
Meaning "diagrammatic representation" is from 1890;
general sense of "hypothetical outline" is by 1939.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=schema>
Make fun when we find none. Then make sense, to see if it feels
right and proper, like art intent on making peace where only its memory was;
Ken Pepiton Dec 2020
It feels good,
done right, it feels good.
It touches good
life,
the quality, the measurable
usable weight, the worth
of thinking, right,
like
I KNOW
this is good, this gift, this pain
reminding me,
death happens all the time,
putting me in mind as a chooser,
chance taker,
cheater, by God, if I know what
I thought
I knew…

craps, roll again, I'm rich.
I got all the time in the world.

When you win right, nobody loses.
Philo sophia trying sophist for lying then frying their brains in my eggs. Or that 'swhat I thought I said.
wouldn't it be beautiful
you and i
together
(𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩!)

or.
maybe not
maybe a different story (poem)
will tell you some day later...


vargov
someday soon, i promise :)
Traveler Nov 2020
I’m happy to listen
May not wanna know
My shoulder is soft
My countenance glows

Lay down your burden
Rest your weary head
I will hold you in mind
Until the issues dead!
Or at least until it sleeps!

Traveler Tim
Next page