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LC Apr 2021
she walks along the trunk of the woods,
pausing when she sees branch-like paths
nonchalantly lying down in front of her.
each path sings its own song for her,
but the songs clash against each other.
she steps back and covers her ears,
then starts singing her own song.
she looks away from the other branches,
letting her voice guide the way
as she strolls along her own path.
#escapril day 24!
Carlo C Gomez Mar 2021
I remember her
in old
photographs

she'd been
daydreaming
all her life
in her under-age
world

spinning
like a top
eternity
in her head
But recklessness
on her tongue

crusading for
******* summers
in Europe
and all that comes
splendidly hither

when laid down
by the embers
in the groves
close to
the congenial sea

I rightly recall
before the page
turning

electric particles
shooting off
as fireworks
in each of her
copper eyes

and how destiny's
curtain fell
with such
suddenness
that morning of
the thin blue line
Russ Heeschen Jan 2021
I want to tell you the story
Why I cannot sing the blues
I want to tell you the story
Why I cannot sing the blues
It’s because I’m a white guy
And I wear inexpensive shoes.

I went down to the crossroads
To learn to play the guitar
I went down to the crossroads
To learn to play the guitar
When I walked into the crossroads
I got hit by a car.

I went back to the crossroads
I wanted to have it all
I went back to those crossroads
I wanted to have it all
When I got down to the crossroads
They turned it into a mall.

So I am done with the blues now
I need to change my style
I am done with the blues now
I need to change my style
Goodbye to the blues
I’ll try hip hop for a while.
... Yo!
Inspired whilst taking a Rhythm & Blues Cruise.
the
choices
had
been
laid
out
for
me
all i had to do                          was choose
what choice will i make?
The Dybbuk Aug 2020
At the crossroads of euphoria, faith, and insanity,
one can learn a great number of things.
But if I have learned anything, it is the malleability of a constructed reality.
Anything is possible, and so everything is permitted.
The excesses of a younger self, somewhere behind me on an illusory timeline, have enslaved me to my self. This too is an illusion, but this knowledge does not serve me; even the most powerful truths can be largely irrelevant.
I walk down all paths at once, no longer bound by habits I pretend are beyond my control, and laugh, never again a slave to anyone or anything.
ImpliedLines Aug 2020
She's been given a path that is all but manageable
This is given with a smile and a suffocating responsibility

She does her best,
To Give,
To Listen,
To Be Who They Expect.

But what if its not enough
What will happen if she chooses the illicit path

Do the rewards out way the losses?

Will the love being sought after come from enduring hardship
Or rather through adversity?

She must be absent from her mind,
To even question the 'life' GIVEN to her.

How ungrateful she must be to question this broken and distorted guidance.

My guardians are not as wise as I was made to believe.

So how do I function with the apprehension of my selfish actions.

I can not stay true to myself for the fear of hurting others.

But I can not keep living with the disquiet in my heart.
There was once a man lost at the crossroads
who pondered which road to behold.
He hesitated to walk down a single path,
fearing how long the roads would last.
In his mind, he recalled the voice of a friend
who was willing to guide him to the end.
They said “There’s no need to go alone.
Whichever path you take, you’ll find your way home.”
With nothing to lose, the man took his stride
down a path he could take without too much pride.
Though he knows not his destination, he still walks,
knowing that there is light to guide him in the dark.
Whatever clouds may gather above,
he can be reassured that he is loved.
This is a short poem I wrote back on December 23rd 2019 when I was running out of ideas for short stories and poems.
lua May 2020
the sun goes by, and it sets
as we lie and ruminate
in empty rooms inside our heads
and the days come late
while the nights draw near
we run in circles on the hands of fate
as we eat our fears
one by one
the moon goes by, and it sets
the days are gone
nothing but whispered threats
but we draw blood
and it drips
on soil and mud
during crashed road trips
to a destination that dies
as we grow close
and it splits,
divides
crossroads.
MA Mar 2020
Tossing, and turning, and looking around
Life's just a cycle, you're up then you're down
Just like the seasons constantly change
But every year, it repeats, just the same


Sometimes it's harder to see brighter days
When lies and deceptions keep crawling your way
Would it be better to fight all the waves,
Or float like a leaf when it's fanned by the breeze?


Hayayay... I don't know
Hayayay... All I know
Hayaaaaa....
Things will be better in the end


Tossing, and turning, and looking around
Here in the crossroads confusions abound
Too many paths, don't know which one to take
Running, moving ends up— the same place


Maybe it's better to sit and be still
Perhaps all the worries just might disappear
Just like how flowers need sunlight and rain
We grow through the seasons, so endure the pain


Hayayay... I don't know
Hayayay... All I know
Hayaaaaa....
Things will be better in the end
This will turn into a song.
I am a noob writer so kindly send me your thoughts and ideas on how to make this poem better. 😊
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