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Daivik Feb 2021
The night is long
The night is scary
You are tired
You are weary

But do not stop
Your time's not come
Don't give up
You were born to run

Just when you think
The bird of hope
Has flown too faraway
A sound is heard
Of the hopeful bird
Trying to show you the way

In the pitch black sky
You see a glimmer of light
The darkest nights
Give way to days so bright

The dawn is near
The day's just begun
As night disappears
You were born to run

Born to run
Towards the sun
softcomponent Feb 2021
There are little pieces of yourself on the kitchen counter.

You find it in your soul to blink and look away,

wiring it all in writing for posterity,

because ink can draw outlines, maybe a little piece of you

will float back.


part of you hopes not,

as if there were

one thing you promised

you'd never do.
Simon Piesse Feb 2021
The doctors said you weren’t allowed
To see Mum in her final hours;
It wasn’t safe to will her on
Nor wet her lips with stolen snow
In case the virus you’d bring in
Might claim asylum on the ward.

Behind her mask Mum couldn’t tell
The story of her party trick:
Apple Pie with packet custard
Baked to death and turned to cinders,
Fed to Dad with stoic humour.    

No doubt it’s best you hadn’t seen
The carnage of the resus room
The febrile pumps of hand and nail
The gasps of good-intentioned strain
That reached a pitch at ten to three
And then from shrill went monkish silent.

On Barn Hill snow is falling thick
The Gaderbrook is filling up
The numb routine the porter starts
Now takes disfigured life away
And Northwick Park can breathe again.
they're living in flowers
up high and across the sea

while we avoid potholes
and bugs just to scrape by
stuck.
Miriam Feb 2021
I miss the time with friends
face to face- not just a pixel on a phone
those moments when you just can’t stop laughing
Everyone else is staring at you,
they don’t know what you’re laughing at
but it makes them smile to see such joy
This is a few lines from my most recent work of poetry all about 2021 and life now thinking about the memories and simple things we miss
Purcy Flaherty Feb 2021
For the last few thousand years, humans have continued to trespass, venture into inhospitable areas, burning down, meddling, or just poking around in natures complex, natural chemical laboratories.

The more humans encroach upon the natural world; the more exposed we are to a highly complex eco system; a system that has evolved over millions of years to support a huge diversity of life in which humans play a tiny part.

As a species we struggle to survive the mosquitoes, not to mention the trillions of other diverse insects, animals, fawner and flora we are now disrupting and introducing to our populations, is it any wonder so many of us are dying.

This disease is a symptom of our consumption and lack of contentment?
Standing in the sun
Putting on dark glasses
To protect eyes from
the sun
and to conceal
the hurt that’s in the eyes
hard hidening.

Standing in the rain
You can’t see
the teardrops
falling softly on the  face
blending in
with falling rain
All because of pain

Hard to hide are
those trembling lips.
Full with sad emotions
One would think
They want a kiss.....
Now with mouth/ nose cap
What good camouflage
this is.

Shell✨🐚
Covid made us cover half our face. When you put on sunglasses you can really hide your face behind this. No one can know what’s going on just by looking.
Tom Atkins Feb 2021
Outside the rail car is untouched.
Seventy years old and it appears ready
for the next journey
as it languishes in this graveyard
of steel and aluminum.

Inside it is different.
Graffiti and abuse.
Seats ripped from the floor
and piled one on the other.
An old mattress lays at one end.

This is what happens
to travelers like yourself,
left too long in a single place.

When you dated the woman you love, you would drive
two and a half hours for coffee and conversation.
Folks thought you were mad. Perhaps so,
but it is a madness that has plagued you all your life,
this hunger to go, the place never mattering
as much as the journey

Not made of steel and aluminum,
the stillness has left you rotting from inside.
It is worse and more deadly than rust.

It is time to leave this place. To go
before your weaknesses and demons write graffiti,
break the windows and crawl out
of the darkest recesses of your mind.

It is time,
to travel east, towards the sun,
towards the sea, the destination a second thought,
the flight towards light the first.
About this poem.

I have traveled my entire adult life. For work. For family. For some, travel is a burden. Not for me. I thrive in the traveling, often more than in the destination. So this past year of quarantine has been like a prison.

Next week I travel to Portland, Maine to spend time with a dear friend. It’s only for a couple of days, but it is the first long trip in a year. I am so ready.

Tom

PS: The picture I used on my blog (www.quarryhouse.blog) was taken at an old train graveyard in Bellows Falls, VT. Probably the last trip I made, a couple of hours from here. Last spring.
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