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Saanvi Sep 2024
I am definitely no poet but I like to write and I wish I could capture in my poetry
(if it can be considered poetry),
the melancholy of changing seasons
and empty sidewalks and long secret
fleeting glances.
Longing and Desire burning in the flames of youthful passion.
Or true love if that exists, I am sure it does.
The afternoon silence or
the echoing laughter on a windy day,
my love for my family, the radiant smiles of my friends.
The way sunlight decorates the ocean
waves in summer, disappears in the
monsoon,
Only to return back with shades of golden
in autumn and peeking desperately,
Trying to warm the frozen earth in desolate winter.
The utter feeling of loneliness that
connects each and every one of us,
The emotional weight of saying a goodbye
to the last year at new year's,
My childlike sense of adventure and
wonder,
Or my dread when it comes to talking
about death.
But mostly and desperately I sincerely
hope that my poetry
(that on some days I am not even sure can
be considered poetry),
captures the essence of loving and living,
A life well lived and loved that would be
called mine.
I love writing poems. It gives me great joy. I wish to encapsulate the beauty of all people and things I love in my poetry.😊🌻
emelie Sep 2024
each day that passes through
another piece of truth goes loose
i'm who i want to be
but it's never easy to be so free
Saanvi Sep 2024
I wonder why melancholy
paints my soul a deep red
when midnight strikes,
And the colors on the clock change.
The firecrackers make noise,
And the world transitions
From one year to the next.
I wonder why nostalgia engulfs
the chaos of my winds
When time passes away slowly
On New Year's Eve.
I wonder how I could ever
Say gracias
To all those people who
Taught me, hugged me and
gave me the strength to live and love,
For my family and friends I am grateful.
I wonder why melancholy
paints my soul a deep red
When midnight strikes.
In this ever-present grief of how
Time passes away so quickly,
I reside, I reside.
I wonder why red fades
And green blossoms.
It is the way of life.
I wrote this poem as an ode to 31st December
Austin Sessoms Sep 2024
The closest I'll get to almost opening
That infamous browser app
The one shaped like a stamp
On my LG enV Touch
The wavy blue thumbnail
That one
Or the rotating Earth
The one led by an arrow
On another LG
It's a flip phone
I don't know the name
But the first one I had
I might add
I just did
It's been added
Is probably opening apps
That alert other people
To my sleeping habits
It's five o'clock
I'm out back smoking
And check Instagram
Then remember my mom
Asking me why I'm up
On her schedule
And swipe up as if
She'd be charged for that ****
And she is
What an angel for paying
For me to have
PHONE
Not the same as it was
Frantically tapping before I'm punished
Or I have to say why I did what I did
Same and not in some ways
But as close as I'll get
Saanvi Sep 2024
The universe oscillates between life and death,
Hanging in the equilibrium.
Two forces beyond infinity
Will always be creation and destruction.
Memories are dying,
Moments are being lived for the first time.
Galaxies are exploding into multicolours.
Stars are fading into oblivion,
their glow dimming.
Nebulae are rejuvenating,
painting galaxies upon galaxies.
The sun, ever present
is burning its own energy.
The edges of time
are constantly unfurling.
Our body's remains are transforming
into mud and soil.
A tree grows, its branches are withering.
Vines are creeping on tree bark,
The butterfly is taking its first flight.
A bird is flying for the last time.
Somewhere, there's a beep emanating from a hospital machine.
The line goes flat,
The loved ones are crying
Tears of grief.
In the same building,
A new born's life is being celebrated,
The loved ones are crying tears of joy.
In the blink of an eye,
Waves crash
and waves recede.
In the blink of an eye,
The circle of life is being completed.
In the same second,
Humanity has lived a thousand lifetimes.
In the same second,
Humanity has died a thousand lifetimes.
For us, a lifetime passes.
For the universe,
It's a small oscillation.
An ode to the infinite
balance between
lives and deaths,
Creation and Destruction.
The dances of life and death
collide painting countless
cycles of life.
I take a moment as I pay
my gratitude to the universe
for including my circle of life
in its vast canvas.
I wrote this poem as an ode to the ultimate equilibrium between creation and destruction and how these forces are two sides of the same coin.
Saanvi Sep 2024
I am just an image,
Like a flickering candle waiting to die
Like a glimpse of the sun on cloudy days
Like dead roses on my mother's grave
Like dried plants in the flower vase
Like the reflection in my lover's gaze.
I am just an image,
Like summer evenings spent on your porch
Like the first kiss that never happened
Like the scent of your perfume
Like the first time I saw you
Like one sided love and hopeless dreams
Like days that never end and nights that end too fast
Like thoughts that scare me
Like withered and dried sunflowers on my grave
Like my coffin's reflection in my mother's gaze
Like the life I wanted.
But at the end of the day
I am nothing at all.
I am just a  flickering candle waiting to die,
Just an image.
But all these memories that make
Me me are like fleeting winds
That pass away too quickly,
Sometimes too short for my liking.
Without all these moments, I am nothing
But just an image
In someone's eyes.
I wrote this poem as an ode to the power of memories and how they shape our identity. Moments in life define our existence, beyond that it's infinity.
Tint Sep 2024
if there exists,
God, please
help me,
I might be losing
this battle.
Kalliope Sep 2024
It was all real
For a moment
And I was sad
When I woke
But happy to have
Spent an hour with you
Even in the shortest naps
I live lifetimes with you
Maitreyi Sep 2024
It's eating me up alive,
Or am I too rotten to be fed?
Alone, inside-out, my head—
Let me out of this horror fest.

Pictures became archives,
Of a repetitive, stagnant time.
Anger manifests itself—
Am I rotten enough yet?

A sharp pain in my chest;
I put on a smile instead.
Juices seeping out, blood-red—
Pages fill my medical files.

Is it supposed to be a crime?
I am my own target.
The old folks lied—
An apple couldn't keep me alive.

Words cut deeper than knives,
Wounds that fester in my mind.
Home to others, not myself—
Am I rotten enough yet?
Austin Sessoms Sep 2024
Every moment of your life
Could be a different moment
Is a different moment
In your very own Spider-Verse
TVA-pruned timeline
Marvel garbage science

Assuming that's reality
I roll up a spliff and smoke it
I roll up a spliff and don't
I smoke just the cannabis
Or smoke tobacco
Or don't smoke at all
Unlikely here and now, but
I could choose to
Choose not to smoke

And every choice I make
I also didn't
So potentially I'm something
Or else something else
But everything I am
Or I become
I'm not
And I will never be

To breathe
Or not to breathe
To clean the house
Or finally apply for jobs online
Once I update my resume
Or make some kind of tangible progress
Or none of that
Some version of none of that
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