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Jeremy Betts Apr 15
I'll be right here
Or thereabouts
Have to fight fear
Endless bouts
Year after year
Who I am is denounced
The end is near
Shamelessly announced
The truths back there
A mute man shouts
Doesn't matter where
The blind will pounce
A future seer
Only raises doubts
The amounts one drowns in
Could be less than
A powder or liquid ounce

©2024
Jeremy Betts Apr 12
Searching wildly
Mind and heart
Panics arrival forever untimely
Becoming flailing limbs in the dark
Desperately feeling for a way toward a way to put it mildly
Never finding more than a question mark
Tripping on everything I should have already put behind me
Blindly trying to look over everything said from the start
Only finding it's the same as before the start mark
I'm sorry to report
All I can find,
All I really have
Is another sorry sorry
One more weightless apology

©2024
Steve Page Apr 6
As a kid, was I
as accomplished a storyteller
as I remember?
Did I truly evade consequence?
As an adult, was it a little similar?

Is it just me?  
Or lately have I found more truth?
Do the stories seem to you
to be intertwined with unexpected twists?
Do they immerse you,
despite their incompleteness?
Do you find that this gives space
for imagination, for permission
for grace to flower?
Are you surprised by the colour?
Does the sweetness of the fragrance
stagger you as it does me?

Have I always been a storyteller?
A teller of stories?
And are they really unfinished?
Is there more fragrance to come?
I was reminded of the power of questions and so wrote this version of the previous poem (Story To Come).
Anais Vionet Mar 24
I babysit the daughter (Ivy) of a doctor at the hospital where I volunteer (to accumulate ‘clinical hours’ for my med-school applications). According to my mom, the purpose of my current existence is to get into med school.

That may sound crazy or theater-mom-ish but she has strong arguments - like Aristotle (all things strive toward full potential), stoicism (there’s a role for all living things) and vitalism (there’s a purpose, in life, beyond survival) - so, who am I to argue?

Straight brag, I’m a certified, Girl Scout Safe-Sitter®. Little Ivy and I will be eye to eye (metaphorically) for three hours today - no phones, TV or Internet - just paints, swings, barbies, a Montessori math game and a new toy called “MyFirst camera” which lets her take pix, and then print them, low-res and smeary, on ultra-thin paper.

I met Ivy when she was 4, now she’s on the edge of 6. She’s got large chestnut brown eyes that match her hair - which is cut in a shoulder length angled-bob. She’s about 3½-feet of cuteness, in her pink ballet-flat shoes. I’d describe her clothes, but she changes about every hour. “What are you wearing now?” I find myself asking the princess or jedi. “Can I help you officer?” I ask the business-like cop in a ballet tutu.
We’re old hats at this babysitting gig.

When Ivy picked up her camera, I asked, “Can I take your picture?” reaching out to take the thing.
“In a minute,” she said, lining me up in the viewfinder. “No,” she said, suddenly turning into a photographer highly critical of my look, “(pose) Like a model,” she directed, before striking, for a brief moment, a perfect, indifferent, hands-on hips pose herself. Kids pick up on everything. I took her direction and struck a pose.

Later, as we painted dragons that looked like flowers, she asked, “Why’s the sky blue?”
When Ivy asks questions, it’s like she’s getting a second opinion or testing to see what I know.
“Blue?” I asked, acting like I was confused. “The sky is GREEN.”
“NNOOO,” she said.
“You’re colorblind!” I exclaimed in alarm, “Does your mom know?!
“The sky is BLUE,” she said, with the seriousness of certainty.
“We’ll see,” I said, like a doubting thomas.
I held up five fingers, “How many colors am I holding up?”  
She looked at me, side-eyed for less than a beat, then said “No.”
We had hours of fun.

Later, when her mom came home, she asked “How’s it going guys?” As she set down her purse and keys.
Ivy looked up from her work, gluing a collage of the day's photos to poster board and said, “Ok.”
“We had fun,” I reported, “I’ve been teaching her some comedy things.”
“Like what?” her mom asked, nonplussed.
Ivy eyed me suspiciously.
“Like when she falls, she should wait for the laugh. She can’t just - hop right up.”
straight brag = shameless self-promotion
Jeremy Betts Mar 23
What I wouldn't give to be normal
Well,
Let's be real,
I know nothing about normal
Is there an actual definition that could be written in a way to make it simple?
I've tried to define it but I don't think it's possible
Forcing this to be rhetorical
But here we go,
What is normal?
All I've been able to conclude is it's normal to question what's normal
Other than that though,
It may be undefinable

©2024
Bekah Halle Mar 7
Where shall we go?
To get our fix?
To get our relief?
Peace?!

To the fiz?
To the *****,
To the fax,
Pals,

Or to our faith?
Wherever 'it' is, is our saviour.
The gods of this world,
Masquerading as possible solutions,

But leaving everlasting aches,
Not true peace.
Leaving us, searching, in
Purgatory.
Anais Vionet Mar 4
There’s no substitute for life.

I find myself,
seduced by yearnings.

I’m flourishing here,
contemplating sin.

I’ve nothing to do
when I’ve nothing but time.

I’m reusing solitudes -
they’ve become ragged.

What’s the answer then?
Should I seal my girly heart,
engage in uncaring kisses
like it’s ‘casual friday’ -
connive brief excitements
- just to feel a pulse?
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Connive: to be secretly sympathetic to something wrong or unacceptable
Ghostverses Feb 21
heaven on earth.
a strange phrase for such a dreadful place.
i always ask myself, "what makes earth so.. peaceful?"
I have yet to get answer.
sitting here, hearing the rain drip down buildings and houses.
Maybe I can count to a thousand reasons why.
maybe I'm just delusional.
heaven.
that word.
makes very many people happy.
but why not me?
am i afraid?
or am i just dull.
earth.
a planet we humans call home.
but are we really home?
questions like these keep me up at night.
heaven on earth.
why is it so cold?
honestly, I thought about this while my boyfriend is peacefully sleeping. I don't know.. maybe i think better when my partner is a ease. :)
Aidan Feb 9
What happens
When someone has no one
When there is no one to lend an ear
When a your mind comes crashing in at once
What happens then
Do we go through the motions as usual
Do we waste away and drown in thoughts
Do we question what’s being said
Do we finally choose to open up
What happens next
Beats me
If only the answer was clear
Because if the answer was clear
There would be a shining arrow
Pointing the way
Lighting the path
If all of that was true then we’d have bliss
We would have peace
But then what
The next wave rolls in
Crashing into the tranquil shores
Crashing through the walls just rebuilt
Crashing any bond with once formed
Now it’s back to square one
Back to the drawing board
Where will the dart land next
But when it lands
Will you take action
Or
Will you continue into the same path
Aidan Feb 9
It’s amazing, it is
How people can go about life without a care
How people can say one thing then the next
It’s amazing, it is
You think that you know someone
And then they turn around
Saying the opposite of what they told you
Why does it happen you think?
Why does this confusion happen?
Why does anything happen?
It’s amazing, it is
How can someone hold so much inside?
How can someone be so bottled up?
Bottled to the point where they may burst
Bottled to where they may blow any time
How can someone be so isolated?
Maybe it’s by choice
Maybe it’s because they feel it’s the only way
Maybe because they haven’t found someone
Someone to confide to
Someone to trust whole heartedly
Someone they know will be there
Someone they know will support anything
It’s amazing, it is
How some people find it so easily
How some people can be a group
And then be so close with a few
It’s amazing, it is
How someone can feel so alone
When they have people around them
When they have ears willing to listen
But the only ear they want
Is someone pushed away long ago
Someone that offered but the way panicked
It’s amazing, it is
How an opportunity can go by so fast
How an opportunity may not come again
How small the time limit is
But you know what’s really amazing?
How we can contemplate this in our heads
But never verbally
Because of this is ever put into words
Then something has become real
Something has been put into the world
Something that one may regret in the future
Now that’s amazing
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