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ProseChallenge #67: Write a poem about grief.
Written by AlSalehi

Visiting Hours are Over

So muscular and handsome, my boy is.

His hair is so soft and smooth. His legs are

so white and beautiful. The shape of his

feet are identical to my father’s.

My son’s feet were always cold, for his warmth

was always concentrated in his soul.

But I cannot leave…not now, not ever…

The moment I leave I will no longer

have a son. Right here, right now, I have come

to claim his body…I am visiting

my son…I -am his mother. As long as

I hold his flesh beneath my hands, he is

still here, with me, in the room, spending time

together. I love you, son…And even

though I, was your mother, You, were my best

friend. It almost killed me to bring you to

life, and now it is killing me to let

you go. I didn’t leave you then, and I

can’t leave you now. Son, even though you are

lying here motionless and weak to the

eye, give me the strength to Live! I want to

crawl up this refrigerated metal

slab and lie with you. I’ll sing you songs, and

read you bedtime stories like I did when

you were just a boy. Even though you’d sleep,

they were unforgettable times between

both of our souls. But I refuse to leave…

I just won’t do it…not now, not ever.

Copyright © 1986-2017

Al Salehi

All Rights Reserved

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ProseChallenge #67: Write a poem about grief.
Written by AlSalehi
Visiting Hours are Over
So muscular and handsome, my boy is.
His hair is so soft and smooth. His legs are
so white and beautiful. The shape of his
feet are identical to my father’s.
My son’s feet were always cold, for his warmth
was always concentrated in his soul.
But I cannot leave…not now, not ever…
The moment I leave I will no longer
have a son. Right here, right now, I have come
to claim his body…I am visiting
my son…I -am his mother. As long as
I hold his flesh beneath my hands, he is
still here, with me, in the room, spending time
together. I love you, son…And even
though I, was your mother, You, were my best
friend. It almost killed me to bring you to
life, and now it is killing me to let
you go. I didn’t leave you then, and I
can’t leave you now. Son, even though you are
lying here motionless and weak to the
eye, give me the strength to Live! I want to
crawl up this refrigerated metal
slab and lie with you. I’ll sing you songs, and
read you bedtime stories like I did when
you were just a boy. Even though you’d sleep,
they were unforgettable times between
both of our souls. But I refuse to leave…

I just won’t do it…not now, not ever.



Copyright © 1986-2017
Al Salehi
All Rights Reserved
#nonfiction  #romance  #horror  #poetry  #philosophy  #prose  #challenge  #prosechallenge  #love  #heartbreak  #spirituality  #culture  #grief  #loss  #opinion  #mom  #dedication  #melancholy  #forever  #MothersDay  #CotW  #Itslit  #getlit 
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Chapter 35 of Of Love, Loss & Loneliness
Written by Cross in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Your Velvet Stars

Sometimes,

A stone is just a stone;

And the ocean,

Simply a body of water.

Sometimes,

The stars are only distant suns;

And velvet,

But a fabric.

This time, however,

A stone is

My shattered heart.

-Heavy and hard-

Harsh and cold.

The ocean is

The vastness of your love.

Untamed, wild;

Consuming.

The stars are

Your shining eyes

-Casting their light

To dispel my darkness-.

And velvet is

Your flawless skin.

Your heavenly touch

On my sandpaper soul.

No finely crafted metaphors

-No words of unspoken beauty-

Can surpass the perfection

Of you.

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Chapter 35 of Of Love, Loss & Loneliness
Written by Cross in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Your Velvet Stars
Sometimes,
A stone is just a stone;
And the ocean,
Simply a body of water.

Sometimes,
The stars are only distant suns;
And velvet,
But a fabric.

This time, however,
A stone is
My shattered heart.
-Heavy and hard-
Harsh and cold.

The ocean is
The vastness of your love.
Untamed, wild;
Consuming.

The stars are
Your shining eyes
-Casting their light
To dispel my darkness-.

And velvet is
Your flawless skin.
Your heavenly touch
On my sandpaper soul.


No finely crafted metaphors
-No words of unspoken beauty-
Can surpass the perfection
Of you.
#romance  #poetry  #love  #LLL 
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ProseChallenge #67: Write a poem about grief.
Written by jessandthesea

The Lime Trees

The house was falling apart. You know,

shutters hanging, closet door off its tracks,

some wide blinking

brown eyes through the jagged hole

in the middle. Someone kicked it.

Chipping paint shaping a new Pangaea

across the walls. I got lost

peeling it like I would dead

sunburnt skin on my shoulders.

Leaks from where the roof was flat,

a crack curving down the center

of the porcelain tub that we used to

fill with hot water and soak

together in overflowing bubbles

like nothing was

wrong. The end always

us fucking on the damp blue rug

beside us. Once I tried to blame

the hurricanes, but they never came,

only some heavy rain. In truth, the wind

had been calm for a long time. Some nights

were empty, not just the lot

of empty bottles around, beer, 

some rum. Part of an old poem was taped

to the fridge. It said

the art of losing isn’t hard to master

before you ripped it down. I learned

about the difference between love

and attachment from a book first

and then from you.

If I could hate, I could hate you

for kicking the closet door 

that time you tried to kick my dog, 

for that time you kicked my dog.

Then she started hiding in the closet

every time you raised your voice.

You even kicked 

the two baby lime trees

which I bought just before you moved in

and perched with sticks until they were strong

enough to hold themselves up. You never kicked me,

because as much as it might seem like I mentioned

the lime trees to serve as a metaphor for me, they’re not.

I left the day you threw a glass jar of coconut oil

at my face, which was only a day after you started

all the kicking. I can’t say I didn’t 

cry a lot, or that it wasn’t excruciating 

to walk away and so fast.

I did, and it was. 

But the way memory works 

is not so easy.

I still remember how you'd

hold me in your metal arms

like a magnet.

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ProseChallenge #67: Write a poem about grief.
Written by jessandthesea
The Lime Trees
The house was falling apart. You know,
shutters hanging, closet door off its tracks,
some wide blinking

brown eyes through the jagged hole
in the middle. Someone kicked it.
Chipping paint shaping a new Pangaea

across the walls. I got lost
peeling it like I would dead
sunburnt skin on my shoulders.

Leaks from where the roof was flat,
a crack curving down the center
of the porcelain tub that we used to

fill with hot water and soak
together in overflowing bubbles
like nothing was

wrong. The end always
us fucking on the damp blue rug
beside us. Once I tried to blame

the hurricanes, but they never came,
only some heavy rain. In truth, the wind
had been calm for a long time. Some nights

were empty, not just the lot
of empty bottles around, beer, 
some rum. Part of an old poem was taped

to the fridge. It said
the art of losing isn’t hard to master
before you ripped it down. I learned

about the difference between love
and attachment from a book first
and then from you.

If I could hate, I could hate you
for kicking the closet door 
that time you tried to kick my dog, 

for that time you kicked my dog.
Then she started hiding in the closet
every time you raised your voice.

You even kicked 
the two baby lime trees
which I bought just before you moved in

and perched with sticks until they were strong
enough to hold themselves up. You never kicked me,
because as much as it might seem like I mentioned

the lime trees to serve as a metaphor for me, they’re not.
I left the day you threw a glass jar of coconut oil
at my face, which was only a day after you started

all the kicking. I can’t say I didn’t 
cry a lot, or that it wasn’t excruciating 
to walk away and so fast.

I did, and it was. 
But the way memory works 
is not so easy.

I still remember how you'd
hold me in your metal arms
like a magnet.
#poetry  #love  #heartbreak  #grief 
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Written by apotter in portal Romance & Erotica

She was done with Saturday night lust

that faded into Sunday morning pain

She wanted to wake up

to whispers of love

on quiet Monday mornings

after the rain

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Written by apotter in portal Romance & Erotica
She was done with Saturday night lust
that faded into Sunday morning pain
She wanted to wake up
to whispers of love
on quiet Monday mornings
after the rain
#romance  #poetry  #love  #rain  #weekend 
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"Oh how I wish I were a rose . . . " Write a first person poem in the voice of a plant.
Written by AlSalehi in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Serenading the Bee

If you were to open me up,

What you would find,

Is your other half.

Therefore I urge you,

To dive inside me,

So that our essence may fuse.

For in such a union,

A seed’s conceived,

And I, in turn, shall transform.

Copyright © 1986-2017

Al Salehi

All Rights Reserved

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"Oh how I wish I were a rose . . . " Write a first person poem in the voice of a plant.
Written by AlSalehi in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Serenading the Bee
If you were to open me up,
What you would find,
Is your other half.

Therefore I urge you,
To dive inside me,
So that our essence may fuse.

For in such a union,
A seed’s conceived,
And I, in turn, shall transform.


Copyright © 1986-2017
Al Salehi
All Rights Reserved
#fantasy  #scifi  #fiction  #romance  #adventure  #education  #poetry  #science  #philosophy  #mystery  #haiku  #challenge  #love  #spirituality  #culture  #opinion  #dedication 
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Written by Confusheyusss in portal Micropoetry

Wilted Petals

A single red rose.

Twin broken hearts.

Wilted petals on the ground,

blurred with flowing salt;

too many to count.

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Written by Confusheyusss in portal Micropoetry
Wilted Petals
A single red rose.
Twin broken hearts.
Wilted petals on the ground,
blurred with flowing salt;
too many to count.

#poetry  #love  #heartbreak  #rose  #micro 
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Written by Andrometa in portal Haiku

One Love

Breathe in the same breath

Sit with me in the silence

We are the same thing

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Written by Andrometa in portal Haiku
One Love
Breathe in the same breath
Sit with me in the silence
We are the same thing

#love 
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Written by solipsist in portal Micropoetry

THROWBACK

to the day she said ~

i am putting my body

in your hands ~

i trust you ~

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Written by solipsist in portal Micropoetry
THROWBACK
to the day she said ~

i am putting my body
in your hands ~

i trust you ~
#love 
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Written by Firdaus in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Could Be Love

lazy crawl of honey

moving through veins

filling empty bones

butterflies awaken

under my skin

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Written by Firdaus in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Could Be Love
lazy crawl of honey
moving through veins
filling empty bones
butterflies awaken
under my skin
#romance  #love 
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Written by ElleArra in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Abandoned

he was four years old when

his mother died. we were 

four years together when he

left me– he put me quietly

in the ground next to her. 

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Written by ElleArra in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Abandoned
he was four years old when
his mother died. we were 
four years together when he
left me– he put me quietly
in the ground next to her. 
#death  #love  #abandonment  #buried 
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