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It was a bright sunny day
when he came to me
we had a lot to say
and something interesting to see

we walked and created a river of memories
that we could look up to
and in a day it made me full of worries
as the time swiftly flew

It's quite easy to break a bond
especially at the start
where one side only responds
and the other breaks apart

It is wishful to think of it as a dream
that should have not been true
so I close my eyes to that beam of light
and open them to see a million skies that were blue
Here's what happened on a typical bright sunny day, conversations, moments & memories.
Isabine Apr 2020
I
forged, framed, formed  
an ache to be caressed
embraced
fulgent or blazing
even if
I
must die
The leftover language of a poem that formed its own kind of poem.
Dave Robertson Apr 2020
I guess this is the trip
of today’s triptych,
still surrounded by
hours of life reinvented

My feet are the same
though achey from lack of use
and my tongue is still in my head,
though less flapped

Our lingua franca
is now a babble of
isolation song

It’s not often
we sing together
so let’s be loud
and love proper hard
Lilly F Apr 2020
if i loved you less,
i may be able to say those three words more,
but you make me forget every language i've been taught

©L.F.
My brain was thinking so loud that i could not hear her footstep leaving my heart.
Her eyes spoke unique language, the language only i could understand..
Michael Demian Mar 2020
A lot of places in this world
Are waiting patiently for you,
So you should keep your sail unfurled
Toward what’s challenging and new.

Then you can find a lot of friends
That will support you in your strife.
Your future certainly depends
On what you have achieved in life.

So fight for what you’re really worth
And never let yourself give up.
Inherit happiness on Earth,
And life will offer you its cup.

No matter what you keep in view,
A lot of places can be yours.
If you speak languages, then to you
The world will open all its doors.
My native language is Russian but I like English. So I dedicated this poem to the English language.
Zywa Mar 2020
**** how is it dung:

the hole **** in smooth poogress –


or with big assents?
In the performance “Lost in silence” (2020) by viola player Esther Apituley, hearing-impaired Ludwig von Beethoven misunderstands a question from the musicians.

Collection "Foghorn"
WA West Mar 2020
My blank mouth,
Mummering half-words and compressed sentences,
Triggering his hate,
All a misunderstanding really
His patience convulsing
These things can be a trigger to less enviable states,
Is it drastic that I want to end?
A forest floor and some last restful thoughts,
Body layen out like tinned goods,
Some kind of logic to do with presentability,
My organs works of macabre art not yet returned to the earth,
Birds sorting through my body like archivist from gods,
Tafuta Atarashī Mar 2020
A rainstorm into an open field
Soaking my pigments with
Colors nonexistent;
You’re a solar storm,
Irradiating, enriching me
In serenity transcendent.
Otherworldly on my tongue;
You are a forgotten language
Awaiting translation,
Patience and understanding.
Someone to take the time
To comprehend your words
Unspoken and unread.
Trust me to hold you,
To listen and read
With consideration and delicacy.
Know that I’m here for you to
Whisper your unknowns in my ear,
And compose your silent correspondence
On my skin with your lips
Without fear.
Philology: 1. The study of literature and of disciplines relevant to literature or to language as used in literature
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