If additional semi final tickets are given to the club, would they announce and do an official release for members at a certain time or just add to site without notice?
43
Podroig
u/Podroig
Could anyone please let me know which blocks have the most seats left for Wembley- so I know where to click on tomorrow at 9am. Thanks in advance !
010
The devil isn’t a dark towering figure and he
doesn’t hold powers unknown to man.
I know because I’ve met him.
He sits in the employment office,
just off king street.
And he eats all cheese sandwiches
on his break and listens to Mozart’s fifth,
hopeful to suggest some semblance of refinement.
The devil is also your neighbour
and also the perverted priest.
The devil is arrogant and sleazy and tasteless.
And so much worse.
15
Worship the cracks
that disrupt beauty
and interrupt perfection.
Worship the cracks
that welcome the sun
and vanquish darkness.
36
After his last tears had dried
and finally grief had settled,
I decided we should visit the ocean
for one last time.
So I drove our car,
soon to be just mine,
toward the open sea.
Though our seconds each moment waned,
we travelled in punishing silence.
I imagined he spoke to me
of past times
when we might travel to the sea
as escape from our perfect normality.
I imagined we travelled in bliss and love and
sang awfully together. But we didn’t.
We travelled cocooned in grief,
tinged by a silence known by few.
What was the living to say to the dying?
And in this silence we passed
from the comfort of land to the world’s edge,
where I watched the distant birds
32
Beauty that sits outside the realms of beauty.
Too endless to be measured.
Words would but shackle and taper.
Its transgressions refute a name.
To me, perfection only. Forever
transcendent of the physical. Silent woven
whispers forgotten. No more for me,
but another. Now from outside;
sit and cry. Muse of the mind.
Blind me of all other visual delight-
nothing ever can be this.
23
I’ve always hated
Haikus that say so little,
not enough space to...
95
Outside, that is a makeshift fort
made from blankets and
old forgotten towels.
Inside, this is a makeshift home
made from lies and
broken dreams.
207
Why does everyone want to write a novel ?
Is everyone a hopeless, unfulfilled introvert
waiting to vanquish the burning insatiable
thirst for art that tortures their every morsel?
I thought it was only me
occupied by my quest
to one day not sit and watch
but leave my seat and dance
with my demons, taming them
with makeshift words-
placating the idle thoughtless self.
You mean to say this quest is not
just mine? You mean to tell me
that I am not unique
in my thirst to bleed
through generations, via words
cut by the blade of raw emotion
and stoked in the fires of passion?
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/olupy7/superglue/h5iezso/?utm_source=share
42
Protruding concrete slabs.
Fingers toward the skies.
Glass boxes filled with stories,
unheard voices,
early mornings.
Pointing to their God(s)
asking “why?”
So close to a city of wealth
that chuckles in its splendour.
Windows witness to flashy cars
and city bankers.
Inward walls to widows and
broken dreams.
Green fields at only a whisper’s call
that scream with freedom;
Out beyond the city lights,
a beauty that threatens
their delicate ugly greys,
their penny pinching ways.
Possibility hidden from innocent lives
like truth from a child.
One rallying cry the only division,
the tower block home to indecision.
Even with hope its mistress,
still locked aw
811
A free study bible sits beaten,
battered and torn in a draw across my room.
Blanketed in clutter:
fellow forgotten words, scrap paper,
dead pens, breached packaging.
The portal to my eternal salvation-
or a collection of lies that facilitate
the greed of old?
A poetry collection brought for pennies
sits dusty in my shelf.
Acquired through intrigue and yet to be
perused nor admired.
It is the collection of many;
the lies of the artist, reaching to
stroke my heart.
It tempers the mind with thought,
drips poison to the soul.
It is the portal to my eternal salvation,
only waiting to be found.
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/oirwkh/squirrel/h4yzz
107
I started an account last week, that now has 50 followers and my videos were consistently getting 300 views and 100 likes each within a day. Within the last day, my latest posted video (4 so far) have all had no views and no likes (apart from one which has 5 views and one like). They remain like this 24 hours after posting. Can anyone explain why this is? I’m not sure if I’ve been shadow banned but there is no reason why this would have happened as my content was not in any way breaking guidelines. ???
11
I've come across this poetry account on tiktok that shares original poetry, overlaying video and music. I found this a really interesting and enjoyable way to consume poetry and especially found it a really nice form of relaxation, personally. Might be worth a look!
11
How violently we longed to grow
old and wise
while with makeshift wands of
oak and bark
we discovered new lands
and conquered great beasts.
While dressed in matching dungarees
we rolled in mud
and bathed in rain.
We made the world our muse
that spoke to us
about the importance of youth.
But little did we know; we didn’t hear,
too busy consumed by the lure of streams
running like the years. Only now when we look
back to those days when
happiness transpired a stick or
open field, do we see the beauty of it all.
Only now do we see
the freedom we yearned
was present in the autumn trees
and bark and present in the soft
crunching leaves.
13
Yesterday I woke
and realised
I wasn’t next to you.
That’s the first time
in a while
I noticed the empty space
you left.
Maybe it’s the desperation in me,
but sleep isn’t the same
knowing that I’ll wake
alone. When I close my eyes
without your warmth
and don’t sleep
enthralled and entwined.
Maybe I’m just weak,
but sleep isn’t real to me
if not shared
with the comforting knowledge
that I’ll always wake to you,
whether welcomed by angst or
unbridled love. For when you left,
you stole from me the right to sleep.
Now I only close my eyes and dream
of the possibility that maybe
you still sleep there
next to me.
34