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Amanda Kay Burke Jul 2023
The saddest thing is state of this world
In eerie indoctrinated paralyzation
Beautiful globe that once triumphantly twirled
Now in serious need of proper navigation
What has society become? :/
M Solav Mar 2022
Paved roads of cars that roam
Are sure to grow weary on my bones.
And there’s a high hill close to home
Onto which I seldom venture alone.
How I recall those many days of yore
When we’d go fresh out in the morn;
And up that hill now far across the globe
Would stare for short eons into the fog.
Written as photopoetry on February 9th, 2022.


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This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
Lalaouna Amina Jan 2022
Trivia Snippets?
Garlic, Onion, and Potatoes
  (Small List in The Kitchen)
Thyme or Mint
  (Every Night Drink)
Full Names of Poets
  (Long list on The Desk)
at midnight
neth jones Nov 2021
overcast

i pull on the day brightly
mine it at the maternal sources
        and form a radiant :                    
               a bloom from within fledgling elements

illuminant grenades                          
             and the sky is peppered with characters
it's a wild play of childness              
an old world whimsy        
of 'here be monsters'    
            and shiny scrapbook havoc

the compass steps in              
       and with the turn of the globe
                          scores the horizon
clouds and the aviators          
         are combed into the soft crust
     a spiral quilting                          
       to cover the gift of a dream
      given by one thirsty visitor
   who stole it lightly
     from the prism
   of another travelling dreamer

God knows what'll grow
        if there's a pillow fight
a deranged rain of innovation
perhaps some fiddly creation
will fast take over this world
         and it's lover other

with the sky allied and fraudulent
we can host an early night
the stars (in strand)
prattle the ocular sense frontier
all constellations are like a single ribbon eel
never quite nourishing
             upon its own thoughtless loop

a corduroy display
overcoat
Chris Chaffin Jan 2021
At high tide, the sea ejects
foam and glass fishing floats.

We wait for the waters to recede,
tiptoe around anemones and *****;
I spot a small green globe.

She says it belongs to a Japanese goddess,
her eyes plucked out by a vengeful lover
and cast into the deep.

I see only an old sake bottle
crafted into a sphere,
etched with sand and netting patterns.

Tomorrow, I will look for agates
while she searches for the goddess’s other eye.
Norman Crane Oct 2020
The tall young woman in a golden dress
spins a globe upon her desk and waits,
and waits till calloused finger comes to rest
upon an unknown wilderness. What spaces
lie yet undiscovered, like tabletops
to be uncovered / to be uncovered:
secret words within a foreign bookshop
under dust and under clutter—
Wiped clean! The tablecloth's pulled off! Now she
will be the first to glean their mysteries:
To see what no one else has ever seen,
To be where no one else has ever been.
Until nothing is obscured for her.
For hers is this world and she its explorer.
Norman Crane Sep 2020
The mountain grows much slower than your perception of the mountain growing taller, as the dynamics of the sea, which sculpts the earth beneath your feet, speaks—summoning the breeze: isn't it surreal, living on God's pottery wheel?
Emmanuel Davies Aug 2020
Time tells lately
Of a world gone bad
Mega bucks of destruction
Resulting in economy evasion
Unscaled and undeterred  
Nature draining and global warming
A coherent of capital dished round
Consumed largely by corrupt deities
Bhill Jun 2020
who really knows
who really understands
how is it true
or not
does the homeless person know what time it is
did the ant you stepped on feel anything
the sunset shared by millions across the globe, was it appreciated
was it valued
desert winds, stirring up the ancient sands, is it admired
is it honored
waters in the clouds, falling with raw force to the earth, is it glorified
is it
how do you know
how do you know

Brian Hill - 2020 # 168
Well, is it?
We walked 500 kilometres,
We are not marathon runners,
We ran only for food and family.

The walk was long,
But our minds were strong,
Hunger came along.

Hunger put us to faint;
Public watched us like saint,
We were treated as a quaint.

The going got tough;
Our foot became rough,
We felt the tiring walk was enough.

Tears poured in our heart,
Disease ripped the whole world apart,
But humankind was selfish and smart.

Public and rulers slept,
We remained helpless and wept,
Banks disturbed us with debt.

Fishes in the sea cry,
The eaters put it to fry,
Our hunger cries were buried,
Towards our homes we hurried.

Frogs rested in the shadow of a snake,
Hunger tested us during this corona quake.

Corona turned a manhunt tiger,
Killed us with its sharp tooth of hunger,
Our hearts filled with demonic anger,
Hunger kept disturbing us longer.

Our corpses were a useless exhibition,
Media wolves framed our deaths a suicide,
We had no place to reside,
Train tracks became our new home inside.

Our hunger and pains remain unheard
Ruthless rulers find our sufferings awkward

Our hunger creates leaders and robbers,
Rulers filled our society with backstabbers,
We will emerge as leaders and food feeders,
The globe will become our followers and readers.

To all living beings we will feed,
To our future generations we will become a seed,
If hunger kills a human like a crop-killing ****,
Our hands will destroy the humanimals with greed.
Coronavirus had put the globe to a halt. Migrant laborers are the biggest victims who are battling corona and hunger together. Their voices are unheard. My poems always want to be a voice of the voiceless in the globe. Migrant labor population work for their family leading the worst life. But there was no helping hand for many migrant laborers. The house owners evacuated them and asked them to suddenly leave their homes. The migrant laborers have to make long walks towards their hometowns as they had no transportation, food or accommodation. The rulers in so-called developing countries like India left migrant laborers to walk long kilometers to reach their homes. No facility was properly made and the whole country stood silently to witness their sufferings, as they had to make a long tiring walk for around or more than 500 kilometres. Many of them could not battle their hunger and thirst.
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