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Qurantine Poetry - A Lonely Quiet Mind

Author:

Shiv has been writing poetry since she was in elementary school. At the end of her junior year of high school, she became a published writer

Staring at My Wall, Endlessly.

late nights chatting under sunsets

asking what is forgiveness?

daydreams they seem endless,

where my hands no longer sweat

and we can both so thank you.


I’m was lost in your shadow

bending to stay in between the lines

dancing in the shade

I’ll leave my hair down by my shoulders

paint me black


My mind flies

But tries to come back to yours U

And I miss myself the most

goodbye to shade I through myself under


greetings to the cries of ease,

because now I know

forgiveness means to take ownership

of the chains that choked me

granting them freedom from my haste


Cleaning my bruises saying it's okay to myself--my mind

let go, let go, let go

let us answer.


s h a d o w s

s h a d o w s

Remember the Time When

remember me

can’t you see

i'm the one who could never speak


i just wanted to be let free

our down the river just like leaves

pressing play changes the world


one step one beat closer to you.

let's press play together

let's press play together

My Teenage Brain Dump

When I’m doing the dishes, brushing my teeth, staring at my paintings, or fiddling with my hair―I think about writing here. What will I write this week? What am I feeling? What’s interesting? What’s taking up space? [...] Nothing. I’m not angry, not sad, not hopeless, not calm, not smiling. I only squint when the sun is in my face. If I hear the word “covid” one more time I feel like I’ll combust. I’m sick of this. Sick of people talking about it, explaining it, preaching about how the economy will never be the same. I wish for silence. Why can’t everyone just shut up? I know this sounds hostile, but as I’m not any of the things I’ve listed before, I will say I am honest. Honest as it comes. What I end up writing is never what I had planned. Previously, I had ideas but they seem to disappear once my fingers hit the keys. Similar to when you’re having a hard time when your brain is about to spill over the crown of your head and suddenly I’m grabbing for my headphones and jamming it into my phone and pressing play. Play. Play. Play. Sing. Say something. Everything that was bubbling inside settles to a quiet hum. Maybe I’d even cry a bit, but at once I’m finally at peace. I play solitaire non-stop. For hours without even a pause. It’s either I’m committing to a simple task or I’m doing nothing at all. Every day feels like a Sunday or a Monday, nothing else, just those two. Sometimes it gets so quiet, or maybe I’m just quiet enough I can feel my heart beating in my chest. I can feel it go up my throat, to the back of my neck and to the back of my head like a brace holding me in place.

I pay more attention to the things around me. I’ve started to follow my dreams more carefully even though they’re seriously just figments of my imagination. During a nap I took this evening I heard a music score. I'm back to writing music in my head. I love it when I hear music while I sleep, it must sound weird for people who don’t dream wildly. Maybe, I should’ve written it down or something.


safe in the middle

safe in the middle

Comments

Dr Anupma Srivastava from India on April 13, 2020:

Well-written. First poem is hear-touching.

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