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Elisabeth Elmore Jul 2023
There are broken things
               I can never fix—
                         even though
                                I’m older—
      no matter
           how much I know,
my hands are still wounded green
                      with Spring’s earth—

from even before I knew
          the pain of destruction—or
the chaos of a single lie
             (before I knew it was a lie)

when I was crawling on sunset
                  in the tall grass
                       of our backyard,
          silently following
                       my brothers
                           (newly jaded)
                 as they joked in spite
       about our mother’s volatile shouts
from our sky blue house
            of loose and spurring rage.
Mark Wanless Jun 2023
i can say all kinds
of things that are confusing
none are really true
Amanda Kay Burke Jun 2023
Life is not about money or material things
It's about love and the joy it brings
I live by this mantra
Max Neumann Jun 2023
How the things get further away
Disappearing in the haze of a day
Undressed and bare naked
Trash made of freedom's desires

The vanishing of things remains
I threw up the yesterday
Cause yesterday served it's time
There is no movement in things

Present me a kind of a nightly dance
Move between the clouds
In the veil of everything imaginable
To dissolve with me at dawn

Today's soldiers are very young children
Fighting battles for accolades
Exchanging sweet freedom against things
Giving in to the opinion of strangers

How all the things fade in sheen
Among **** dreams and fear
We watch it or we look away
That's a new repetition
A New Repetition
onlylovepoetry May 2023
Things Worth, Or Not, Remembering:
T.S. Eliot,  O.L. Poetry and the Passage of Time

<>

“Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present

All time is unredeemable.

What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.”

T.S. Eliot
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

<>

Only in a world of speculation, but what if,
There was no such world, one speculates,
Where safely looking in both directions as
We cross the alleys and boulevards of now is
NOT required; living in series of moments,
a steady spasming of venturing, and always,
something gained, something lost, but never,
additive, cumulative and more sensational
than experiential and we have no memory,
and thus no prejudice for or against!

Living with constant aspiration, not reckoning what are
Things Worth Remembering, is that not more than
no footfalls, only footsteps, to new love, renewed love,
possibilities of all doors opened, and we take each day
as it is given, banishing longing, jailing regret,
believing round every turn is a new fragrant, radiant rose garden,
or not…but perhaps means eternal, forever looking.

O. L. Poetry
5/28/23
m lang Mar 2023
authenticity. the overwhelming affection from my two tuxedo cats after coming from from a long day from work. my father's love. my mother's embrace. the way poetry makes me feel. my favorite childhood memories with my grandma. the magic my grandpa taught me to believe in as a child. "if you wear these slippers to bed, you'll fly in your dreams." the nostalgia from an old ticket stub. (you loved me then.) trust. the beautiful people i stumbled upon in life that i now call best friends. the ride or die love i give to my friends, and receive from my friends. love. tender love. the kind of love that consumes me, driving me to the point of madness. intuition. heartbreak; a loss that imprints itself into my soul so deeply that it changes the way the world spins around me. kindness. (the authentic kind.) self-awareness. the gentle wear from a well-loved book. co-workers that make those long work days seem shorter. the sun's rays that feed my soul, and my plants. the smell of a rainy morning. the warmth radiating as our bodies intertwine. addiction. irresistible desire. recovery. the feeling of sand between my toes. (the part of me that didn’t die was filled with love.) interrupted silence of the mind. euphoria in a dream like state. the miracle of human experience.

- m lang
3.3.23
I S A A C Dec 2022
i love being in a pitch-black room
the void, the lack thereof
cannot see my fingers or
the things i could never love
it's the peace i crave, my hidden cave
no one to tend to
no one to pretend to
i love being in a pitch-black room
no peeking, just sleeping
dreaming of things anew
unfolding the possibilities, new brew
Daisy Darling Oct 2022
I want to stand out,
I want to be recognized,
But I don't get their eyes,
Am I on the right route?
does it matter, who I am?
Odd Odyssey Poet Sep 2022
As some things/people are so beautiful
to behold. Perhaps at a necessary distance,
for their thorns makes it hard to hold.
Daisy Darling Aug 2022
i did some reflecting today;
thought about my time with you;
how much i loved you;
but realized I was in love with the future you.
Looking back, I loved u for who u could be, not who you were.
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