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katarina Jan 3
I secretly want a big family
One that gathers at the dinner table
Each night
Night caps
Children I can truly know
A partner I can life my life with
The way we want to
Birthdays parties
Friends and family celebrating
Not becaue we have to
Because we want to celebrate each other
Celebrate the love in each of us
Secret wishes
Tell valkyries as told have done
For sake of a dear guest to take heart and give way to dress in their finest cloths and comb their hair hundred times.

Tell valkyries as told i had i did since question of manner and luck my fortune keep a candle in the window lid for a traveler dear coming from a very far.

Tell valkyries to honor a name greet and welcome like a brother like home as near to heart of dom scent a bed by tulips open new barels of wine.

Tell valkyries to mind the word be few and name by mountains called an old friend introduced voice recognized remembered to dont mistake with the fools.

Tell valkyries to take a bath in water of eternal youth and beauty and to dont be late for the feast of love over death do  decorate windows for victory!

We won! Gracefully.
Standing as objects in the mirror – do you still objectify the lessons
of your past, reflected in the rear-view? Words are unnecessary now;
your scars have been reopened – haunting illusions.

Resurrected from the place where you once buried your dreams –
down to earth, yes, yet stripped bare by the relentless erosion of
existence. We rise to the thunderous stillness, questioning our very existence, yet finding no answers in man—responding to the chaos
around us, colliding like two wayward planets in this small world.
One day, we shall encounter familiar strangers, yet it will feel
peculiar to label any of them as friends.

In certain moments, I feel as though I am crossing myself out beneath
the weight of the cross, feeling an emptiness within— "survivor's
guilt"?


No… that guilt placed upon me has been paid already, not by my own
cost – yet for the cost of something more profound. And I willingly
surrender myself to a purpose that transcended death, then to endure
a life filled with trivialities, only to feel nothing until the very end.

                         That profound purpose is… my faith.
What lovers call romance
Whatever loves to care
Enough to hide at day
Till the night to pretend.

Too little and too late
Hearts done hesitate
Hundred lies in deads
It died still had to bare.

Much to killers a grace
To no suprise to suspect
Man in no mans land
Far the heaven to stray.

For once in life dealt
And to have to offer
Trust pays not laugh
Fair like men no less.

Fathers to be to have
love in heart mistaken
The way fooled many
More made to be a man.

Honey to cross a finger
By a monk on forehead
And tore piece of bread
Meanwhile weeping i ate.

Of love lovers are made
Nights sleep not to have
"Suits me well to suffer"
How the poor mans prays.
Cristin Dec 2024
Peace and love.
Love and peace.
True gems that can be found in our society.
Though they don’t always come naturally.
Personally, this may stem from a tumultuous childhood history.
Witnessing those near to me find love and then end up with love lost.
A dreaded cycle, that did come with a cost.

Yet these shadows won’t define my quest,
For self-discovery leads me to my best.  
I believe true love will find its way,
Even if it comes to me in a blind sway.  

For now, I will build my life with grace,
And wait for love to find its place.  
Until peace and love cease to be a fight,
And become my daily, guiding light.  

With patience and faith, I will embrace each day,
Knowing love and peace will someday find their way.


Cristin M. Wright
Cristin Dec 2024
Hold... 2, 3, 4…
and breathe... 2, 3, 4…

I’ve been having nightmares lately.  
I wake and realize I’ve been holding my breath,
A weight settling heavy in my chest,
As if I'm suspended in a moment,
waiting for someone to come and save me.
To stimulate my breath, like a newly born baby placed on mom's chest.

Recently, that person to save me, is me.
A different kind of a responsibility.  
A kind of “safe place", very new to me.  
Almost seems a little like, insanity.  
Or should I really say, codependency?

I wonder if there is someone out there who wants to share the responsibility,
To take on the task of reducing my stress and enhancing my breath,
Until death, an eternal start.

Is it me that tears my intimate relationships apart?  
Until all I have for show are broken pieces?  
Should I wait to pursue love until the pain of my past eases?  

To wait would be to waste.
The boundless love I have, filled with grace.  
I would love to share this with another, post haste.

For love is the greatest gift on earth.  
I will not stand by while it becomes suppressed.
A generational curse.  
Everyone deserves to love and be loved in return.  
God is love, and with Godly love, one cannot be burned.  

And as I maintain my breathe in the hope of the good to come next,
I release the past—the shadows that suppress,
so much of the confidence I have left.

I choose to believe in and embrace the warmth of love that with patience, will take shape.
For in every breath, a promise awaits.
Purified and reborn in Christ.
He is worth every sacrifice.

For God's word is like a lamp at my feet, my path is made clear.  
Not only will I survive but I will have no fear.
My divine destiny is near.


Cristin M. Wright
Lizzie Bevis Dec 2024
My mind weaves endless knots
As uncertainty looms.
Each worry a weight,
Each fear a chain,
Of Tomorrow's
What-ifs and maybes.
Here, at the edge
Of doubt's territory,
Where mind meets mystery,
Faith plants its quiet seed.

Like a dawn mist dissolving
In the morning's first light,
My worries fade beneath
Faith's gentle hand.
It is not a blind belief,
But a trust that falls
Like gentle rain
Onto parched earth,
Growing gardens
Where deserts once ruled.

I often carry mountains
In my mind,
Yet, I must learn to hold
Just a pebble of faith
Instead of Atlas's burden.
When in the borderlands
Between fear and trust,
Transformation begins;
Where heavy loads grow lighter
And doubt bows down
To possibility's acceptance.

When worry builds walls,
Faith carves windows.
When fear holds tight,
Faith liberates.
I know of its presence
In steadying calming breaths,
With shoulders unburdened,
In questions becoming answers
And my anxious thoughts
Scatter like leaves
Into a forgiving wind.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Odd Odyssey Poet Dec 2024
The burden of life weighed heavily upon me while I was young;
a constant whisper in my ear that I lacked real sweetness, using
tablespoons of sugar to fill my cup. I once held the naive belief that
I would depart this world with a smile, if I ever died too young.
I found myself swearing that my life would plan out better; feeling
as though I would have things figured out – but I tend to swear
mostly under pressure, to a life feeling more like I ****** up.

In a place where the slightest act of indulgence is met with scorn—
where reaching for a bit more water from the *** is seen
as a sacrilege, as if I might taint the very essence of life itself—
yet everyone so is quick to drink out of same big cup. The human
eyes is so oblivious to their own hypocrisy.

My youthful hands, were once so eager to grasp the reins of
responsibility, but trembled with the fear that I could never bear the
weight of what was expected of me, especially to those who nurtured
me with such care, longing to return their kindness with open palms.

Life, it seems, is merely a calculation— a game of figures; whether
you figure it best to navigate it as a devout follower of faith, or as be
a seeker in the chaotic realm where success is only measured by the
right figures.

Ah, what a life it is… go figure!
Chelsea Quigley Dec 2024
When life gives rain,
The clouds they form.
The sun it hides
Through bangs of storm.

The ground is wet,
As your steps are small.
But what will happen
If you let yourself fall?

Oh yes it hurts,
You feel it for days.
But your wounds they heal
As the pain it fades.

And remember the rain?  
That once poured high.
Now look outside

At the sun in the sky.
This poem is based on having faith and hope through rough times in life <3
Prettyboyfloyd Dec 2024
One week before first day
By a dream i was awaken
fourth wind in the garden
By the will of might made.

How long to sleep i asked
Thousand years did pass
In blink of the eye not yet
To be has done told open.

Ages of time none to tell
Nor even out to compare
dated a mean to moment
Of had the second to take.

Counted sixty of like steps
another on fingers of hand
O clocks facing to express
Within minutes hour made.

That comes to be for last
Of second in minute held
hours last minute the day
Day by we how a blessed.

Day of world to never end
Since sun a match lighted
At a spark across in black
Finger of the hand apointed.

Palms closed bit of matter
Havin time pressed against
Globe be a shape of velvet
Turn to collect all its made.

Records rolled like pictures
Captured its all found afate
World round of sun written
Of all proud and so as great.

Once the set be come to as
And history of lives to cast
Parts of heroes and villians
To come to see and conquer.

As once the end be to have
The worlds corners ashape
A king and hero and lovers
Every to come to be a man.

Of brave the wild bein fate
Hands of clocks hear clap
Claping the suns every ray
To soul to watch it together.

Projected on black canvas
First row seated old paint
History starrin a premiere
That 15 minutes of fame.
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