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Psych-o-rangE Jan 15
A song
A birthday
A book
A person
A love
A trust
A future
A memory
A minute

The point to this-

I numbed pain, but these thoughts were in vain,
Just the fading sunset on my face.

Fingers of death reach to cover my eyes, touch my cold face, and envelope the memory of all that slipped away.

All I can feel is hands.
How I feel when I forget the next song I want to play
Jamesb Dec 2023
You
Have been harmed by me
And indeed have harmed,
You illumine my life
And my heart
And have brought me
Face to face with
Harsh reality of love,

You showed me rage
And anger and desire
To hurt and revenge,
To disregard apology
And humility and change
In order to stab again
And this I did deserve,

However change has
Happened as admitted
By you in my embrace,
The storms of rage
Are abating and the dawn
Rises clear and gentle
With softness care and grace,

Yet now even as we reap
The dividend of peace
And I am filling that treasured
Role of partner husband
And other (albeit imperfect) half,
You turn after a queue of jobs
To say you are not sure you love me,

The cruellest blow of all
Love is enough to cope with anything. But if the one we love loves us not we are i  a cold a d desolate place
Jeremy Betts Dec 2023
Truth doesn't care what you think
Truth will hunt you down quietly
Truth is often cold and bleak
Truth knows it'll catch up eventually

Lies are just secrets nobody can keep
Lies break you down unapologetically
Lies are not solely used by the morally weak
Lies devour the whole soul entirely

Truth is hidden by the lies we seek,
the falsehoods we speak
Lies don't stay hidden naturally,
falling apart gradually, at times, instantly
Truth turns to lie with a simple tweak,
a false win streak, don't peek
Lies will always be part of humanity, but how much of that statement is tragedy?
So maybe the lies aren't as bad as we think...what do you think?
Be honest now, don't lie to me

©2023
Heidi Franke Dec 2023
Riding the air
In dark morning
A steady current of rain
Descends
Upon everything
The fir tree
The house roof
My dogs fur
The empty Ash tree
The fallen leaves
Brown, red, yellow, orange
The bird feeder catches the water As does the bird bath
The puddles
The street
The cement
My head

My ears hear each
Multitude of patterned drops
In apparent chaos
Reminds me of the brain
The synapses in my brain
Circuitry, each drop a connection from
Dendrite to dentride
Messages of the unknown
Of falling to earth
Of vulnerable life
Unprotected.

The unhoused, in the cool soaked air of December. Will you remain blessed?
Will you spread your joy in the patter of rain to those who bare the rain in their skin, on their dampened clothes? Adding a chill.
Will today you find some without a home
Bringing tarps, blankets, source of heat, to those who listen
To the same rain
While they shiver
And you stay in your glow with your tidy wood burning fireplace. Stay comfortable? Risk giving for giving sake. What floods of love can you share in December rather than giving to
Your precious family, the left overs, the excesses
And give to charity that make each day another day for breath in rain from the heavens. I choose the rain. I could be the one in
The open now, soaking as I pen these words.

Hoping words of love, neutrality, non-judgement and altruism be the "church" we reside in. Drop by drop.
Over a hundred different sounds of rain brought to earth by gravity, in my receiving ears, and the tiny sparkles of light reflected upon the  light from the street lamp shining upon concrete saturated by this extended morning rain.
Sunday. Sitting under my porch with coffee in hand, dog at my side. Dry from this music of rain. Thinking of the homeless. Now mustering the strength and courage to buy Starbucks growlers full of coffee for about thirty and driving around town once again finding cold people shivering. Time to order that coffee and give warm to some as best I can in my limited way. Looking for costs of pull over rain coats. My gifts to my children this year is to give what I would give them to others less fortunate. Be neutral in your thinking. Be rid of judgements of self and others. More love, less hate.
leeaaun Nov 2023
just because
i like winter
it doesn't mean
i like people with cold hearts
SelinaSharday Nov 2023
Crumbling.. changing, stumbling.. aware of..
the unattended now cold non brewing..
Sadness creeping..
Feelings of.. turning..
As I 'm searching sources of it..
Heartaches..
ahh ah ha.. There..
seems the warmth has no care.
Room check, maintenance request in room 5..
Heart chamber.. Private Estate.. wayside.
****.. it.. ok..
No quick fix..
without admit..
So yeah.. slow brewing storm.. of pain...
No fun.. no at ease..
no its coldness...On my sleeve.. sorry .......
@Me.._You..
Even a cold coffee of brew..
Including a cold *** of stew.
Sad cold.. turning to symptoms of flu...


By @Shardayes Poetry Room..
11.28.23
Ssdly brewing cold stew heartaches and the flu
irinia Nov 2023
why
the unbearable or the body as fiction
cold minds in cold hands and so we have
the remake of the fake
the power of looking and not seeing each other
tears are silent so silent are some words
poisonous smiles and innocence inbetween
"the unbearable lightness of being" a remix
time holds us in its merciful circles
the rest is a mystery, why I love you
Heidi Franke Nov 2023
The forecast on the radio
I didn't need.
I felt it coming
In and through the threads of my light sweater
Tickling my skin so my arms embraced
One another.

The barometer falling
As are the remaining Ash leaves
Of yellow, like canaries rushing about
Certainly saying goodbye
To the past
As they must
When the wind picks up.

Hurling chilly
whips of wind
down
The East canyon
Announcing its arrival
I think of my warmest coat
And how long I'll have to wear it
As I sit on the porch in my shivering
Bare feet listening for what is to come
The seasons change
How will I?
Contemplating arrival of winter storm, the loss of one season to another. Will I make changes?
B Nov 2023
The harvest is done,
a blue moon hangs from a string of silver
North wind found summer,
and has stalked and killed her.
I'm sending out puffs of ice cold breath
tender stream gathering in the frost
watching bejeweled leaves reach their final death and fall amongst the lost.
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