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Post by daisysanders on Jun 16, 2014 23:30:24 GMT 8
I remember a giggle which bubbled out of the bath time.
cringing at small talk attempts
heart aches
heart swells
eyes well
tears in eye corners, gather a goodness bundle
She trips in the kitchen.
Casserole shattered along with her pride.
Watching is painful.
Pride in such humility, life slows, generations repeat.
I wonder when I’ll have to say goodbye?
discarding loyalty
calling my father
doubting
doubting
doubting cripples
vulnerability and the shaking dark
Thoughts splay and spiral out in strange directions.
Always tainted, I don’t know how to clear myself away.
If I cry, she cries. I don’t like that.
the ease of us
essence inside the line
for me to exist, is this?
We play and we make noise. We grow up.
Like a sparkler. All phosphorus alight in one moment of glory.
Or twinkles on the squatted sand.
Slow burn below the vast sky.
This empowered and pathetic position.
Please stay a while.
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Post by Admin on Jun 21, 2014 19:19:47 GMT 8
Thoughts splay Slow burn and fade Sparkle Spiral and swell |
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Post by serena on Jun 22, 2014 6:33:14 GMT 8
"In a dream, I came face to face with my own death. I died and I suddenly felt relieved, like there was this huge weight lifted off my shoulders. So, I came to terms with it. We don't need to feel sorry for those who have gone."
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Post by Nicole on Jun 23, 2014 8:16:52 GMT 8
My 60 hour candle
Slow burn over time
Flickering orange and yellow
In one gasp and one release I blew out your flame
Light disappears and smoke remains
Hazy smoke spirals onwards and upwards
A distant time
A beautiful memory
and thats where it stays
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Post by Ashleigh Berry on Jun 23, 2014 18:56:54 GMT 8
A time I can see so vividly when I close my eyes and let the pictures take over.
Vivid, but clouded by bias and illusion.
To remember is a strange practise... when we only see what we choose to remember to see.
The good bits, the bad parts, the relevance, the connectivity, the judgement.
All simply pictures hung in a way that our brain choose to remember.
A distorted reality of a memory that we see for ourselves.
That we believe for ourselves.
and no matter about the acute, the specific, the detail that we have worked so hard to conjure,
because the real has long been washed away.
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Post by Jacq on Jun 23, 2014 19:59:56 GMT 8
Day becomes night and night becomes day
Endlessly circling
the petal wilts and falls
the time lapse of memories
and felt organs that never forget
watching is painful
throat constricts
eye well
generations repeat
I wonder when I'll have to say goodbye?
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Post by isabellamay on Jun 24, 2014 19:04:57 GMT 8
it all happens all at once
to fast for me to catch or respond to the spirals, the swelling, the tripping, the slipping
my reaction time is disabled
i don't know what my reaction would be, should be
i want to help you but i also want to ask you for help. ask someone for help, guidance.... assistance in cleaning up this shattered casserole and my pride that overflowed with it.
you move so quickly it blurs into slow motion but so slowly to tears drip from my eyes with a loud drop on the floor. they separate like crystals as they touch down to roll out across the floor and watch us from the corners of this room.
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Post by embowman on Jun 26, 2014 14:15:44 GMT 8
I remember the small tasks.
Washing the dirty wine glasses, buying milk and coffee, showering.
Heart aches, it swells, eyes well.
Watching is very painful.
If I cry, she cries, though he does not.
Life slows but all happens too fast.
I wonder when I will have to say goodbye?
Please stay a while, oh please.
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Post by michelle on Jun 27, 2014 11:24:23 GMT 8
Spacious,
Love between the gaps,
in the shaking dark,
in empowerment and vulnerability
spiralling outwards in strange directions,
true inside,
like a slow burn beneath the vast sky.
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Post by daisysanders on Jul 1, 2014 16:41:39 GMT 8
Many of them
Many of us
One of them
One of us
One of me
Many of me
One of me
Many of me
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