J-i-poetry - Simple Poetry Blog

Decomposing

Her fingers, the wispy breath of young wheat.

An Ohio summer hangs like a warm towel after swimming.

We kickball ideas over the nylon floor of the trampoline;

She recites revisions for her newest novel.

The dank rot of sweet hay and dirt wafts over memories.

the quietude of things, tathev simonyan

UU

The ducks by Stonegate

A pair of mallards sits on a

Manicured stone by an

Artificial fountain

Ah, the massive continuity of ducks

Here there be lakes,

(Or ponds, or even fountains)

Here there be ducks.

I'm Not a Rambler

ouroboros

(ione meraki 2024)

Nothing

To do nothing but stare at a wall, watch the sun wash over old paint. To cry because something blew into my eye. I thought of something funny and remembered your face. To cut a carrot the slow way, julienning each disc, one by one, to put my face over the pot as hot water boils. To do nothing but fold my clothes as if my hand was an iron. To watch your yawn like a slow-motion movie. To touch the thin film of dust without rush to wipe it away. To write as if I were talking to myself. To do nothing the whole day. To fill it to the brim with nothing, nothing but nothing.

yearning for heaven, you'll never be free

Idk who needs to hear this (probably everyone) but your body is a good body. Even if you don’t like the way it looks or people have made you feel bad about. Literally all bodies are good bodies. Have a good day and don’t forget to be kind to yourself and your body.