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"Alderfell" by M.A.A.
Alright, we had great time,
and the teachings of our leisure
were truly beyond measure,
(at least) two of us, but many of each
with naive dreams
barren from our sleep.
Breathing forestscapes and summer air
soothing ambience of Baltic emotions stark but fair
could not oust the images behind this tired eye
of flames dancing
of someone with a shovel in front of the pyre.
If/when/as mistargeted jealously hits you
look elsewhere - throw a rock or two
at the athletes below.
It makes sense when you do it.*
Test the waters by jumping on the boat
warm up the heart by seeing smoke as foam
when violating the suspension of disbelief - throw a rock
at the deck below - (where) - it certainly does seem
like a man drowning in blindless
would reach out to spread the blackness.
A pair of idiots, wanting everything (now)
cluelessly leading a life of apprehension abound
yet it did not look like it - nor feel,
but to an honest ear it bared the sound.
Many pretty views in sight, saplings in my palm
these groves never brought anything without a fight
not in this ghastly calm
not in this life -
from a bird eye's view, it's where we'd all dwell
yet it has no purpose, no reason for our Alderfell!
It may not make sense, but it happened. [Did it?]
"It did not matter, it did not matter!" [Did it?]
we say to ourselves
one lie here, one lie there
black rock structures -> red clad institutions
thinking they know it all
but (aha!) we haven't shown anything real
since joining their brawl...
do you know the figures behind the curtain?
I love them,
those with a shape I burn at the stake
and those tainted with spirit go into an oven.
Did it all actually happen? It never made sense.
Anyhow, smoky fantasies aside -
he keeps digging a hole
but not sure why
and as the visions get stronger
he looks at my face for another lie
and I'm humbled into confession (again?)
prompting him to drop the tool
>> dodging the rocks, that fool.
Too bad only one of us made it in the end
but it did not matter,
I take it from here.
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"Poem Title" by S.J. Delaney
Muscle by muscle, leg by leg,
Dragging out energy, dreg by dreg.
Day by day, hour by hour,
struggle to stand, losing power.
The mind is awash, the eyes so bright,
A developing problem, no hope in sight.
The body is broken, it takes time to heal
It never feels good to be so frail.
Hour by hour, second by second,
waiting by waiting for it all to end.
– – –
Next exhibition theme: WAITING
Deadline: MIDNIGHT, 12th September
Submit at: firstname.lastname@example.org
More information under ‘Submissions’ tab