2017 January Feature!

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Hello everyone! I have the honor of doing MacroPoetry's first feature of the year. So, on behalf of the team, I truly hope you've all had an awesome break and a great start to the new year! :D However, it's time to get back into business and get all your arts flowing~ :eager: :squee: ...And perhaps, these wonderful pieces will help with that! :love:


slowly fading away by MarcosRodriguez Let it DropHold the match up high
We’ll watch as the flames gutter
As time runs on by
"The sky is full of glowflies
So bathe in kerosene" dear
It’s our last long night
Down here in the choking smoke
We can drop the light
“The sky is full of glowflies
So bathe in kerosene” dear
Light the match, let it drop.

Solitude by WillTC Footfalls of a WhisperWhen you’re standing in the balance
between two breaths and euphoria,
the faintest sounds dangling by your ear,
you could feel the ground shift
just the tiniest bit,
but enough,
enough to make you fall in an abyss
lighter than the clouds you’ve never touched,
fingers saturated with wanderlust
you couldn’t begin to imagine.
The smallest hummingbird and the largest whale
long for this quickly dissipating dream
more than you and me combined,
and we dream of it too often.
It isn’t something we remember
when all the thoughts we think have gone away,
rather, it is a gust of wind against our skin
on a cold, crisp morning,
a wayward thread teased from the end of our sleeve.
It is mundane as the minutes before we’re asleep,
existent, but easily adrift.
That is why I lay its dust on your eyelids
when your secrets don’t escape your lips
and your hands are tangled in mine too tight.
This way, you won’t have to search the stars
to have my share of l

Twilight by isischneider
Frozen. by MateuszPisarski The Winter Withinthis cold remembers us
as petrified cavities
grown over and nestled
in winters, layers deep
within the nesting doll shells
of its dream teeth
our embedded, throbbing stones
are the true
grind and tear of its teeth,
they still remember
our angel shapes
pressed into surfaces
more hostile than snow
more violent than freezing
is the disintegration
of names and memories
trapped between winters
and layers of enamel,
our dead seasons, unmarked
laid to sleep and slow
beneath a blurred pane
it's here, in our hollow
that winds don't bite
because they don't need to,
because faces erased softly
by a blanket of snow
are presumed to join gently
the ecosystem beneath it
here, winter is merely the child we were
that fell through the ice, sinking
swaddled in the dark slow sway
of the hungry pike that found us,
dreams still warm on our skin
hope still bubbling on our breath
the winter within
is a weight, a welcome and goodbye,
the process of drowning
in survival,
the stark and sterile weaponization
of e

Frog eyes by lindahabiba  how many broken relationships does it takeit was easy to forget to love you.
so perhaps it’s my fault for our brokenness
for our extinguished spark;
it’s as if i forgot to plug us in or light our candle
                               but how many broken relationships
                               does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
                               none        because there was only screwing up not screwing in
                               none        because you screwed your lightbulb in someone else
i am trying to forget to love you again
but i’m still writing poems about what broke us,
summing us up in stanzas about lightbulbs;
do you

Rever by Yuukon time to timehistory says
quite repetitively
that you should still
cross my mind
from time
to time
however,
i'm done living in circles

Frosty Rose Hips by VBmonkey26
Dreamscape Blue by Phenix59 Doctor AppointmentTime for the body
to become a lottery once again:
Are hives being nursed inside my ears?
Is an edge being brewed inside my belly´s murmurs?
Or yet another slipup of genes
will make the planks and walls
another badly thought
engineering feat
of the womb?

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o00o by petrwolf Of them. To the boy who didn’t want me to wander :
I remember him comforting me
Because I got lost as we were driving in the mountains.
« It’s ok » he would say « you got lost, but you will find the way again. »
But I’m still looking for my way back home, boy.
 
To the boy who was looking for answers :
I remember the despair in his look,
How he would clench his fists
And come to me, holding me tight:
« I want to be happy ! » he would shout in a sob « …but my brain doesn’t want me to be. »
 
To the boy who needed to be nurtured:
I remember how he got beaten up by his mother
And how he wouldn’t want to talk to me.
We would remain silent, looking away.
Oh, I wish I could reach out to him that day,
But I couldn’t know that this day was the last day I’d see him.
 
To the boy who
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Phenix59's avatar
Thank you so much for including me in this marvelous feature! :happybounce: