POETRY PFFT: Poetry Fantastic Fanfare Talk - The Collection

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PFFT - The Collection
 
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PFFT #1 - 'A Breath of Life'


"But poetry, beauty, romance, love these are what we stay alive for."
- Robin Williams as John Keating in Dead Poets Society​

INDEX
- It Arrives / Il Vient by @PavellumPendulum
- Seasons Changing by @Sorrelfur
- Two Voices by wolf_
- For It Rears Its Ugly Head - Anonymous submission
- Ode to the Phoenix by @Noctis the Devious
- The First Breath - Anonymous submission
- The Rite - Anonymous submission
- Pneuma - Anonymous submission




Il vient

Graine,
Plantée,
S'enracine,
Le printemps vient,
Le soleil sourit,
Les pluies fortes nous nourrissent,
Ô que j'ai hâte de lâcher,
L'hiver si sévère que je vit,
Mes fleurs qui poussent, partagent mes pensées,
Nous disons adieu à la dure fraîcheur.

It arrives by @PavellumPendulum

Seed,
Planted,
Taking root,
Spring is coming,
The sun is shining,
Strong rains nourish the earth,
How I yearn to leave behind,
The harsh winter that I survived,
My blooming flowers share my thoughts now,
We bide the bitter, biting cold adieu.




Seasons Changing by @Sorrelfur

When the last snow melts,
Again comes the sun to shine.
Bringing with it life.



Two Voices by @itsjusthjaylin

You’ll never be good enough,child,
Words echo with tempo, bouncing and flouncing without a care.
Try to bear the hateful venom flying with salivation.
There is no salvation, a crack in the dam's foundation grows.
A mothers’ grace placed within venomous hands.
You’re such a waste of space,”
Needles stick to the skin, breaking thin layers.
Dost of blood not caught by the naked eye,
Yet can be felt with every belt she makes.
The crack bends and breaks with every mistake spoken.
No pride to the family,”
Ride it out, she’ll wear herself.
Your best is not enough,
Groaning from broken concrete echo within.
You’ll only be worth it six feet underground,”
The crack has become a slash, bearing the stress of the dam.
Each cut a new sentence spoken savagely.
She stands spewing, crimson shaded skin as sullen punishment brews.
A childs’ bile boils from the throat yet nothing releases.
I should’ve gotten the son I wanted, not the daughter that’s tainted,”
A break surfaces, pressure drizzles with each puzzle piece.
Wrath waves it’s hand and the band holding the dam snaps.
Sending waves of liquid hatred flowing through.
You’re not the mother I wanted,”
The child dares care to speak with weak words.
Your abuse shows to everyone I meet,”
A chill greets the skin as the mother falls silent.
A deafening sound among the crowd.
The child holds back tears and fears the wrath before them
but yet speaks with superior words.
You cannot make me fall,
You cannot affect me at all,”
You are the worthless one,”
You are the hatred that fills the void,
Shaking yet strong stands the child.
The mother fizzled with the drizzle that came from the storm.
Cornered with their own vices tossed aside.
The child will heal.
What will that yield is unforeseen
But all is better without a mother.



For it Rears its Ugly Head Anonymous submission

For it rears its ugly head,
Bares sharp teeth and snarls,
Threatening to snap and grab me by the throat.
Despite its threats, they are filled with no intent.
it curls on my chest,
Creating an overwhelming pressure making it hard to breathe.
The outside world taunts and teases its welcoming arms;
Instead I am beckoned to lay in bed,
To let myself go;
To sleep the days away;
To let the nagging of the outside beckon me and drive me insane.
This thing won't let me go.
It won't go down without a fight,
So I lay in bed for days to appease it;
To make it happy;
To let it destroy my head with thoughts.
Until it has finally let me out of its sharp claws.
The pressure and darkness followed by guilt and embarrassment lingers,
But I can breathe.
I can finally breathe;
I can finally take care of myself;
I can finally greet the outside world with a breath and a small
"Hello,"
Until it drags me back again.
Until it rears its head and snarls once again.



Ode to the Phoenix by @Noctis the Devious

To rise from trauma
Like a Phoenix from it's ash
Is to be small and vulnerable
Needing to be nurtured
Once more.



The First Breath Anonymous submission

With blinking eyes, the world to see
But dark, dismal, damned and doom'd
Even as thine tiny feet toil or dark liquid consum'd
Aimless, thoughtless, wanderless, in state of be
Endless cycle, not shackled, and not free
Even now walking the cobbled road
The cold lingers, crushes, and erodes
Life peculiarities rarely foresee
The rabbit hole, pulling, plunging, twirling, and tumbling
With stained knees, and scraped palms, mundane become decried
With wobble and stumble, condemned sinner
Path set forward, tis thine life, thine love and thine calling
The first breath may naught be with first eyes flutter wide
But stride taken with light, upon gifted glimmer



The Rite Anonymous submission

Come outside- he said.
It is pleasant and welcoming.
He invited me to glissade,
under primaveral honoring.

Come to breathe- he uttered.
While quiet clasps,
urged egos to be mustered;
with void losing grasps.

Come and let thyself be free, my dear.
I watched thee writhe,
too long drenched in tears.
Leave and be blithe.

Take my hand and flutter!-
he clamored.
I waltzed with the cosmos... and respired.



Pneuma Anonymous submission

Out, I must go.

To pirouette with the sun,

And exist hither.

 
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PFFT #2 - 'The Passing of Time'


白发戴花君莫笑,岁月从不败美人。若有诗书藏在心,撷来芳华成至真

(translation) "Don’t laugh at the flower in the gray hair, for time has never washed away beauty. Poetry and stories stored in the heart, is the true beauty of it all."
- Chinese Folk song​

INDEX
- Nostalgia by @RiverNotch
- (Untitled submission) by @HerziQuerzi
- An Ode to The Forgotten by @TheWerewolfBri
- Starting from halfway through by @TenguTango
- (Untitled submission) - Anonymous submission
- Today - Anonymous submission
- (Untitled submission) - Anonymous submission




Nostalgia by @RiverNotch

Baptist school: the elderly teacher
gestures to her childhood with a joke
that glides above the Third Graders' heads.
Believing they were balloons, she blew
condoms to sausages stuffed with air
and crossed swords with her brothers.

Where is she now? Below the earth
or, over its surface, ash dispersed
like her grown-up wards who won't respond
to e-mails with subject Reunion?
Brothers, sisters, and in-betweeners
turned nostalgic, schismatic, demonic:

recall the pyres of Yu-gi-oh cards,
the hymnals barely bound by tape,
Manila paper prayer requests,
and Beyblade shredders of blintzy skin!
recall the Holy Spirit's blaze
over the jokers, the bullies, the gays---

Inevitably her makeshift toys would pop
whether she played with them or not.



(Untitled submission) by @HerziQuerzi

space is not empty
the earth is not dead
there will always be meaning
to the lives that we led

tears are not weakness
the wolf is not lone
we find our way back
to the place we call home

waves are not fleeting
the night is not cold
once more and once more
we love and grow old

the clock is not cruel
the end is not near
there is nothing ahead
but potential my dear

so sleep softly and dream
as you go back to bed
for space is not empty
and the earth is not dead



An Ode to The Forgotten by @TheWerewolfBri

Peeling walls and crumbling façade,
An era gone by.
My dress rustles not on the broken walk,
Moonlight becomes my friend.

Each turn is a memory,
Instinct takes over.
The white double doors greet me again,
Back where it all began.

“Inmate”, is my new title,
Free no more.
I have a little room with a view,
Home sweet home.

The open ward smells of bleach,
Women take turns at the windows.
Their eyes are longing for home,
But destitution is reality.

Are they criminals, harlots, or truly insane?
No. Free thinkers, liberals, and the barren.
Caged together in silent harmony,
Husbands are now the enemies.

Food is fresh from the gardens, bakehouse, and barn,
Prepared by our caretakers.
Rows of white cloth tables in the dining halls,
A perfect little community.

May to October,
Sunny days turn to cold winds.
Never a visitor greets my doorstep,
Letters are unanswered.

November, a notice from the court,
The verdict, “Insane”.
“My wife is barren”, he pleaded,
“Divorce granted”, sets him free.

I walk, read, and listen to the tales of the forgotten wives,
Their voices are a comfort.
At night, my heart breaks,
Longing for what can never be.

Silent Thanksgiving on the ward,
Dry turkey and dressing.
A wedding notice is posted in the Times,
He’s gone forever now.

December brought the snow,
Boilers broke, we have no heat.
Please sent out to families for rescues,
No one comes to our aid.

Ten freeze to death,
Nine more that followed.
I close my eyes and drift to sleep,
20 became the total.

The unclaimed were buried nearby,
Myself among them.
We watch from the frosted windows,
Free now, but never to go home.

New faces, policies, and treatments,
Friends join our rank.
Barren no longer a reason to be kept,
A first step towards our rights.

1920’s, Rockhaven opens,
A mental facility for women.
Kindness becomes formal treatment,
The, “insane”, become well again.

1930’s, my mother dies,
There is no one left.
Electroshock resets the brain, they say,
Lobotomies take them away.

1960’s heralds a needed change,
Pills replace the picks.
Widespread acceptance of illness become normal,
Every spirit wept.

The beds slowly empty,
Visits have become less.
That fateful day there came none,
The doors lock forever.

We wandered, prayed, slept, and wondered,
What the future had in store?
Strangers broke in, took pictures, and trashed the place,
Foliage soon reclaimed.

Men in orange vests surveyed the grounds and shook their heads,
Our days were numbered.
We thought of life after death,
Shaken, scared, yet hopeful.

Brick by brick the wards fell,
We rushed to beat the crane.
Said our goodbyes and ran for the trees,
Homeless once again.

We thought there’d be a messenger,
Some golden ray of light.
Crept back after nightfall,
And walked silently among the rubble.

Heaven never came, no hell opened,
Desolate in turmoil.
We stood on hallowed ground,
Listless, melancholy, waiting for our time.

Spring to summer, fall to winter,
Houses now go up.
Families arrive, but none invite us in,
They see past us like the wind.

We roam the acres and remember,
The times we lived before.
We’ve become the forgotten,
Forever nameless victims of change.

We pray for redemption for sins never committed,
Just wanting to be found.
Till that day, we forever remain,
Former inmates of the lost Overbrook.

With love, I dedicate this to those beautiful halls that housed so many,
Whose staff worked hard to help their patients.
That was torn to dust in 2016,
And became nothing more than a memory.



Starting from halfway through by @TenguTango

When



I'm not young anymore.
What was I supposed to do?
I had forgetten that I had forgotten.
I thought I missed my shot, but I made it.
What else did I miss?
What else did I gain?
"I've forgotten more than you will ever know."
I think I did too.



(Untitled submission) Anonymous submission

晴れ成るや白雪消えと流れべし
ha reh na ru ya shira yuki ki eh toe naga reh beh shi
The weather becomes sunny-
white snow disappears and
must flow.




Today Anonymous submission

Today I lie on my bed. Though, by yesterdays, this is the shrine I mindlessly returned to.

Today I rest on synthetic clouds. I am bustling with my imageries, drifting into former fancies.

Today I wonder how it could have been and what I should have done.

Today I am mooning about every hello I expressed and every goodbye I uttered.

Today I think about how I had been intrepid. To the times where I have beheld intimate faces. To the moments where I have shared embraces— where now I wish to have never let go. To the seconds I laughed. To the minutes I wept.

Today, my mind is a tempest. In this feathered throne, I feel isolated. Craving to mouth another "I love you" with beams gleaming my semblance. Wanting to be at company with hands that once nurtured me.
But is it regret what I am experiencing? Am I closing in to dying? Do I covet to return? To implore the present to regress?

Today, I am not certain anymore. My heart is void and I have numbed the pain long ago. I can no longer shed tears. I do not need to.

Today, I am looking at bygones, divorced from sentiment. I peer at silhouettes that no longer exist and occasions I cannot restate. I have grown cold. It is fine, however.

Today, I am seasoned to the thought. I am sitting, clocks behind me ticking. Imaginary eyes boring down at my stagnant form, praying for one of them to be you.

Perhaps, I would not be as detached to this world as I am today.



(Untitled submission) @rissa

the leaves have changed
from red to green
again

as april brings
may flowers and junebugs
dance around the july
fires

the petals have wilted,
the grass is now brown

as august rolls
into september and the pumpkins
line the streets
again
 
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PFFT #3 - 'One the Edge of Decision'


"For those of us who live at the shoreline; standing upon the constant edges of decision"​
- A Litany for Survival by Audre Lorde​

INDEX
- HAPPY BDAY NEMO by @rissa
- Edging by @RiverNotch
- named. by @PavellumPendulum
- Homecoming anonymous submission
- Actions and Voice by @Fluffy
- What's Broken Cannot be Fixed by @Ness
- Alive by @Ness
- Forgive by @OKSaiph
- Priorities anonymous submission




HAPPY BDAY NEMO by @rissa

Choice made, path walked
Future unfolds bright and fair
Inevitably




Edging by @RiverNotch

All my life, I have been edging.
Once, I was an edgy boy,
but now, I'm on the very edge
of man and woman, as I was
and still am of both black and white,
both rich and poor. I never lost
and hope to never lose that skill
or, rather, inborn aptitude
to gleefully and recklessly
embody everything.



named. by @PavellumPendulum

i was struck by the idea of becoming me
someone who was tucked away, a long time ago
stripped of her name, her place, her right to be

i am not who they think i am
i am not who they want me to be
i am not who they dream of at night
not feather soft or sugar sweet

they love my english
my mimicry of their voices
my inoffensive submission
my face on their magazines
so different! so palatable! so diverse!

i am their poster child
their model minority
their favoured speaker
but only if the words fit
into an agreeable mouth
one with a name they can respect

i cannot be what they call me
i cannot change who i am
i cannot bend the way my parents did
to those who stand atop the glass ceiling
staring fondly down on us treasured pets
unable to pronounce our names, only breeds

i am struck by the idea of becoming me
so much so that i extend my hands and
shake like a good dog, pearly canines set
i say her name, my name, the one they ripped
from the girl i once was and the woman i am now
and when their smiles fade, mockery on their tongues
i will introduce myself again and become me once more.



Homecoming Anonymous submission

Here you stand at the cusp of jejunity,
Awaiting for the opportunity
To unfurl your wings and soar,
To be the prime of life evermore.

But have you ever considered
On what life may have conspired
For the morrow?

It is never simple.
This is how much I can counsel,
So you can mingle
With blooming souls that gambol
With coarse reality.

Yet do not let the apprehension
Cloud your penchants for hereafter.
Let your being strengthen
And indulge in cultivated laughter.

Go on and twirl.
Give your wisdom a little whirl.
Patter your feet on the waters.
Taste the rain tingling your kissers,
Before your bones give in to decay.

Breathe the blossoms in your paradise.
Make felicity your vice.
Adorn the skies with butterflies.
Nonage never dies.

Young daisy that awaits at the peak,
There are no solutions that seek
The code to mellowness.
But tame your dismay,
There is always a light of day.

Remember your cradle.
Think of your happiness when you are able.
Revel your reveries.
Love your memories.

Thus, right at your homecoming,
Make it alright to accept the overcoming
Of your infancy;
To spring to full bloom and lead.



Actions and Voices by @Fluffy

This nagging sensation inside,
it says that I have to decide
For if I don't, then maybe I won't
I know that it's not good to hide
all things I feel on the inside
But, it's easier said than done
to simply make a decision

The feeling reminds me of when
I was told that indecision
is still a type of decision
I'm sitting on the borderline,
just wasting so much of my time
watching for some kind of a sign

But, I know the truth about life
Through all our happiness and strife,
our future is shaped by choices
made with our actions and voices



What's Broken Cannot be Fixed by @Ness

I scream into the void as you leave
There nothing I can do but plead
Your mind's made and your heart is set
But still I need to beg.
Don’t go

What’s broken cannot be fix
There’s just too many nicks
I can see through the holes
Can’t console
What used to be, can no longer exist
Don’t resist
My mind is made and my heart is set
Please, don’t beg
I must go



Alive by @Ness

I thought I made up my mind
But that’s a lie
I’m still here?
Isn’t that queer?
Zero to twenty five
I’m still alive!

When will I die?
I can’t decide
I might as well try
To live Instead of die
I can’t decide
I’m at the edge
I dread the end
I don’t want to die
When I’m still alive!



Forgive by @OKSaiph

Altered bones in run-down homes
Where have you wandered to?
The stars on your ceiling won't shine for me.
I'll inhale, repeat
Until my lungs start to bleed.

Can you take this rot I'm coughing up?
Or is that just another part of me?
The room is spinning
And I can't see.

Where do I go now?
Tether me down and cast me out.
Will accepting your forgiveness free me
Or condemn me to this role you've assigned me?



Priorities Anonymous submission

It was not supposed to be like this
He was just having fun, just taking a piss.
Dread clutched his heart like a vice
This never happened. Not once... not twice.

He should have been prepared
Shouldn't be like this, should have cared.
Right now, 'What if's do not matter
Right now, it's all about saving her.

He watched his precious' life dwindle
Red! He saw red! He's losing her little by little.
"No, not now. Please! Please, be awake.
Do not do this to me, for God's sake!"

A loud bang. It started. This was not fair.
Anger took him then, giving her a glare
He looked out, turned to her, then back.
What should he do? His brain was racked.

Another bang. Blue and red flashing.
He stayed inside, still glaring
Should he save her? Or go out and watch the night sky?
Enjoy it without his precious? Without his phone? Well, it is the Fourth of July.
 
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