One Dead Poet

dark academia at it’s finest.

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When you got up this morning the sun

Blazed an hour in the sky,

A lizard hid

Under curled leaves of manzanita

And winked it’s dark lids

Later, the sky grayed,

And the cold wind you breathed

Was moving under your skin and already far

From the small hives of your lungs

Wind

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A star once looked me in the eye

From high above my window,

Murmuring

“The sky is gruesome,” it said

“How small you must feel.”

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For all I can really do is

Stand here

In September’s rain

Savouring...

Soaking it all in

Slipping...

And simply

Holding on to poetry

For dear life

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may the flowers remind us

why the rain was so necessary

- Xan Oku

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I have gunpowder in my chest

Instead of a heart now,

And it escapes my lips

Shaped like a bullet

With your name on it

Some people become dangerous

When you destroy the things

They hold dearest.

Gunpowder Nikita Gill

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I’ve spent a life

Chasing stories

To tell when I’m old.

Atticus

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We shall meet in the place

Where there is no darkness

George Orwell, 1984

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There is a beautiful thing inside you that is thousands of years old.

Too old to be captured in poems.

Too old to be loved by everyone.

But loved so very deeply

by a chosen few.

Old Souls

-Nikita Gill

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the sound around me is too loud,

and my sweater is too thick;

i feel like i’m choking.

wool wraps around me like a noose.

my breath is laboured,

the air is stuffy, and brittle,

and suffocating,

I am Lost Without her Guidance.

The Woolen Noose

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“You have to ration sympathy and grief in here the way you ration school supplies.”

-Naomi Novik, A Deadly Education

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There is no Frigate like a Book

To take us Lands away

Nor any Coursers like a Page

Of prancing Poetry –

This Traverse may the poorest take

Without oppress of Toll –

How frugal is the Chariot

That bears the Human Soul –

There is no Frigate like a Book (1286)

-Emily Dickenson

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Sometimes there is nothing that

needs to be written.

You are the poetry.

We are the words.

Mankind is the story.

-Raquel Franco

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“To love oneself is the beginning of a life long romance.”

-Oscar Wilde

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“Oh, darling, you will be good to me, won’t you? Because we’re going to have a strange life.”

-Earnest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms. (1929)

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“silentium est aureum”

silence is gold