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 1684° 
Immortality
In the tranquil woods,
I wander,
each tree a thought,
each breeze a lesson.

Remind me,
in every pathway,
I am part of it all,
in this art,
called life.
"Everything happens for a reason, good or bad."
And after watching (a lotttt of times) and analyzing Avengers: Endgame, I believe that they are very right, lol.
 1060° 
Jeremy Betts
Hey you there

It's not just me in here
Oh how I wish you could hear the coconspirator
Or see in a single tear how loud the fear of fear truly can be
And how I'm so rarely allowed to steer

I AM a dark passenger, MY dark passenger
A near prison like constricting atmosphere with no breathing apparatus gear
Life can be so impossibly cavalier
Death is always closer than it should ever appear, regardless of the mirror

In my story I have the glory of a lone fourth musketeer
With a crowded asylum between each ear
So many questions but not a single agreed upon answer will appear
And I've yet to meet this so called infallible puppeteer

Though the hierarchy is clear, it passes through an auctioneer
"Punish me if thy finds I should ever veer from thy holy 'engineer'"
Hell, they can stay put like a headlight frozen deer
I'd rather be allowed to disappear

I did not ask to be here

Š2025
 939° 
Mark Bell
Shut the door
Don’t come back
Once you were
inside
Now Im covered
In cracks.
I was stalwart
True and fit
Years with you
Now I don’t
want to live,
I was smitten I
Fell for your games
There’s only me to
Really to blame.
So shut that door
And don’t come back
The lights have gone out
In this beaten up shack.
Property been sealed
Now  I must rebuild,
 633° 
Thomas Castle
you were once the air i breathed,
when did i become polluted, too?
 548° 
Shambhavi
A flower,
Forced to be bloom.
It opens its petals too soon,
Everyone loved,satisfied,
But soon,
Left it alone in the gloom.
It's not about flowers 😔😔
 446° 
Kiernan Norman
I knew you were there —
knuckles resting like they didn’t know what to do.
I heard your breath through the wood.

You almost knocked. I felt it —
the air pulling back,
the hush flexing its muscles.

I almost opened the door. I felt that too —
the lock daring me to turn it,
the weight of the air leaning hard against my chest.

But neither of us moved.

We just stood there —
two statues pretending not to be waiting —
except I heard you breathing.
And I know you heard me too.
 368° 
mike dm
poems write me
in my slumber
and then i forget them
later. sometimes they
are so good i feel like
this hell is something else
 310° 
Traveler
There’s a storm blowing cold tonight
There’s a tormenting whisper in the wind
My sword is useless in this fight
There’s a battle waged within

**** the demons, **** this flight
**** this soul within
**** what’s wrong, **** what’s right
**** the righteous sin

This storm has blown through me before
Red my eyes do see
Exiled to the killing floor
Wasted upon my knees
Traveler Tim
I wrote this in 1995.
That was a hell of a storm!
 274° 
Kelly McManus
I'm finally free
outlived all my enemies
now I'm the big cheese
 237° 
Dominic Unamuno
My old fat dog sleeping on the blue wood laced porch, his face Illuminated by the half lit moon and his ears dance away the mosquitos hungry for a midnight meal.
Alone, in the end of his tether, probably dreaming bout his youth. His paddling paws and twitchy nose, sow a grin on my withered face, he too reminds himself of earlier days.
Feed the cat, talk to him in a different tongue, ignorant of his clear lack of English. It doesn't really bother me, it's nice to say whatever I want for a change.
Still haven't sheeted the doona, or put away my washing. I'll leave that for a version of me feeling especially frustrated at the state of my messy room, usually accompanying BB singing the blues.
Exhaust's screaming down road begins my nightly routine, a lullaby of fossil fuels sing me to sleep, where I'm off menu for the high pitched invaders, spasms in my fingers and toes, clinging to the shredded wallpaper of the past.
I like this one
 236° 
Santiago A
"The moon is beautiful isn't it?"
he says.

"I prefer the sunset"
she said.
Actual quotes from our texts
 195° 
Karen
Jagged peaks carve his path
Like black onyx absorbing light
An amber sun in muted gold
A fading light
Hidden dangers lie ahead
In haunting echos
Where shadows test
He stills his mind
A strength he finds
Fantasy
 192° 
Marc Morais
One step in—
the air bleeds thin,
heat curling at the walls,
lungs straining
beneath your brand—

One look—
the room sways,
the way fire bends
before it gives in to wind.

One smile—
a burning magnet,
searing my thoughts
laces undone with just a look—
knowing when to forget
how to hold back.

I meet you there—
skin against skin,
a shiver between shadows,
a heartbeat, staggered and wild.

Your mouth—
an invitation between gasps,
a tide swelling, slipping,
breath against breath,
falling further in.

Fingertips etch urges,
scrape constellations into skin,
the night between palms and sheets—
a hunger deeper than air.

You collapse,
the world now a quivering mess—
a slow-burning ruin,
softened into embers,
breathless—wanting more.
 149° 
Khoisan
The
poet nods
The
writer writes
The
reader reads
Time
ignites
the
UNHEARD
and
UNSEEN
just gained
SIGHT
.
Ofcourse I know the title are weird
or
perhaps
it's
a sign of the times :)
✌️&1❤️
.
 147° 
JL Vega
We met
We talked
We pretended
We laughed
We considered
We agreed
We exchanged
We left
It was like a kiss from a rose
 135° 
Orjeta
“ I don’t know if I will emerge stronger, weaker, or as someone entirely new—but I do know that once again, I face this alone.”
 111° 
Manuel
She talks regularly and with great enthusiasm,
of all the flowers she's ever gotten.
From boys and lovers and friends,
and even that one girl, from camp.
She remembers vividly, all petals and pollen.
She elaborates each scent, and colours each bloom.
But when I asked of her lovers names 
She said she had forgotten.
Thank you for reading!
 105° 
SleepEasy
I used to carry a bundle of love in my hands
Now I have hatred seeping through my fingers
My filter is clogged and I can hardly contain
The rage within, I feel like puking it all up

But I'll get over it
When the time comes I will get back up
And prove that love is stronger than hate
Just as darkness never overcame the light

I will let go of what's not for me
I'll control what goes inside me
Then I will like the words that exit me
And with love inside I will be free
 98° 
IP
It's too late
Though I'm supposed to love you
I permeate with hate
the weight of what you've done to me
turns feelings into fate
 94° 
Maria
It’s night, freezing much outside.
You’re talking about Paris…
Let me, please, sit closer to you
And I’ll move nearer to Paris.

You’re talking about Montmartre
And lo I am there by now.
I hear from all sides: “Oh, belle mademoiselle!”
I’m blushing as under the crown.

“Je suis fasciné par vous!” “Oh, merci!”
“Quelle beauté!” My feet are going numb.
“Asseyer-vous, s'il vous plait. Je veux peindre de vous!”
I can’t say no, and I sit down.

'Je marche sur Montmartre…'
And though I only dream it,
Beautiful Paris, that I see in your eyes,
Is enough for me to fall in love with it.
A few days ago, I met an old friend who had just returned from Paris. We talked all night. He was speaking, and I was listening with my eyes wide open! I decided to capture this moment of my life in this poem.
Thank you very much for reading! 💖
 92° 
hannah miller
ever feel
like a brat? so unfair,
like you'd trade it all? live bare
give up your bed, hit the streets.
to justify your hurt; make it feel complete?

you see,
we know we shouldn't feel this way.
food to eat, a place to stay.
is it selfish to want a break?
a moment of peace
for goodness sake?

or maybe i'm just a soul too deep
a secret i'm trying to keep.
i promise i'm not an entitled brat, that isn't me.
im just a person, with an endless ache, trying to justify my misery.
 90° 
jeffrey conyers
Your eyes told me.
Told me things on your mind.
Your voice tells me.
All the things you want to do.
Your hands touches do it too.

Watch what you requesting?
You are asking for something that's too much for you.

I am like you.
I love challenges.
Especially in the field of romance.

Just watch what you requesting?
I just might impress you.
 87° 
Reynaldo Casison
Despite the long winter
The cool Spring morning sparrows
Melodies of warm honey

Reynaldo Casison
 86° 
shadowsoul
There's no point in doing anything anymore
the only reason I'm alive
is cause' I didn't have the courage to **** myself
 83° 
preston

She stands at the Well.
But she is not alone.

A voice speaks—
"You have no husband, do you?
Not just one—not two—but many.
And still, you are thirsty."


She freezes.
Because the voice is true.
Because she is seen.

But she resists.

"It’s not just the men…"
Her hands tighten.
"There is another ‘her’ inside me.

She fights. She *****.
She wants destruction and hunger and chaos.
She doesn’t listen. She doesn’t stop.
She is the one who makes me want to throw myself from a cliff
just so I don’t have to deal with her anymore."

"She’s gonna do something crazy,"
she whispers.
"And I’ll be gone. Like I was never even here."

The voice does not flinch.
"Then let Me meet her."

Silence.

A storm brews behind her ribs.

The "her" within her stirs—
The dark one. The wounded one.
She crouches behind the rocks, clutching her shame.

The other "her"—the one who still believes—
She wades into the water, hands lifted, reaching for salvation.

One moves toward the Light.
One remains in the shadows.

"You see, Lord? She does not belong to me.
She belongs to the dark."


A pause.

"No," The Spirit says.
"She belongs to Me."

The rocks begin to shake.
The water ripples.

Behind the trees, the dark "her" presses her back against the bark,
watching the water, watching the other "her" wade in.
She wants to believe.
She wants to step forward.

But she remembers.

The love of man is dishonest.
The world swallows and devours.
Every time she has trusted, she has been burned.

"The water will steal me," she whispers.
"The light will dissolve me. I will disappear."

But the Spirit does not demand.
It does not chase.
It does not force.

It only knows.

"You are afraid that surrender will erase you," the Spirit says.
"But you have already been erased."

The words cut deep.
Because they are true.

"You live divided.
One ‘her’ in the shadows.
One ‘her’ in the light.
Neither whole.
Neither free."


The dark "her" clenches her fists.
"You don’t understand her," she spits.
"She needs me."

"No," the Spirit says.
"She needs  Me."

The trees begin to shake.
The wind rises.

"Come, little one.
I have been waiting for you."


She takes a step forward.
The trees do not stop her.
The rocks do not hold her.

The dark "her" and the one who waits—the one who believes—
They are not enemies.
They are not strangers.

They are two halves of the same soul.

And Love—
Love has come to bring them both home.



The Art of Salvation

River running..
That rushing sound in these parts
spell out the words, crystal-clear..
Tree-lined banks, giving way
to the Dark Hills,  upslope

Giving way,  to
granite-rocked outcroppings
giving way to  elk-hidden quakeys
Surrendering their holy-huddle's
pristine stances
to tall  prairie-grass, waving
wild raspberries  and tall pines

    And I,  myself..
    am surrendering also
She is watching the water, believing
That as it flows,
she will not lose herself in it
That it will not steal,  but heal

That I will not  rage again
within my fear

I am watching her,
watch the water
I am watching the water--  believing
That as I give  of myself
further  into the flow

that I will not become  diffused
by humanity
By the love  of man
and all  of its dishonesty

and all  of its  diabolical treachery

Of its  lack of concern,
or understanding
Or ability to break through
its own,  self-centeredness

Or its need  to swallow me up
    into the mundane.
Her hands are in the air now,
praising..

Worshipping
the true nature  of the flow,
Believing..
that I will let all of this, go
And as she  wades in
I ease, back--

Retreating
up the Dark Hills, *****
Clutching tightly..
To granite-rocked outcroppings,
  weeping.

Hiding in the quakeys,
among the majestic elk
Begging for the tallgrass, cover
among the wild raspberries.
   Now, fully concealed
   in  tall pines.

Her hands
are stretched out,  now..
as if hovering  over the waters,
participating

While I hide  from it all

While I hide,  from humanity;
From the fallen,  love of man

    She is wading in,
    Believing
.    
As I am leaving;
Believing

    As the cloud-hidden sky,
    starts raining--

playing the most incredible, of tunes..
https://youtu.be/PgRafRp-P-o?si=1A3rb7ajt_ZPlMW2

xox
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4407079/the-art-of-salvation/


"Little Spirits  were born
with their little  freedoms  intact--
In freedom.. they are only
drawn out  by Love"

youtu.be/i-kHleNYIDc

            â¤ď¸â¤ď¸

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4736547/children-of-the-quakies/
xo
 81° 
Kai
when you were born,
a shy summer snow,
they said:
“bear the burden of this world on your shoulders.”

to you,
a sauna in the snow,
they said:
“give us water. quench our thirst.”
and so you brought forth steam,
and gathered humid dews,
and sweat salt,
and wrung water into their maws.
and so they sweltered, and still—
they were thirsty.

you say:
“i bring no water. i quench no thirst. and thus i fail.”
i say:
“give me heat. give me humidity. give me heart.”
“give me whatever you want to give.”
and you do,
and from this heat i sweat,
and from this warmth i cry,
and aren’t my tears water?

to you,
a shy summer snow,
they said:
“give us water. quench our thirst.”
and so you melted,
and dissolved into the current,
lost into salted misery.

you were born not to bear burdens
but to love and be loved
to live, to laugh, to sweat, to cry,
and aren’t your tears water?
my snowstorm, my sauna
the salt i sweat for you
cry for you
is the sweetest nectar.
our modern post-capitalist society punishes people when they fail to do a level of work no one was ever born to do. (neurodivergent people tend to take the first fall here…)

i hate watching my loved ones blame themselves for failing. i hate seeing them think they’re not “good enough”. it’s the demand itself which should be blamed.
i have my little friend she means the world to me
without my little friend i will never be
angel is her name she is always there
and i love so i take her everywhere

she is my best friend loyal and so true
if she wasnt there dont know what i would do
shes my everything gives my heart a glow
all the world to me and i love her so

best friend in the world there will always be
my angel and my rock she belongs to me
i wouldnt be with out her shes my everything
a friendship for a lifetime she will always bring
 73° 
zoe
When you look at someone
I want to be looked at

When you smile
I want the smile

When you laugh
I want the laugh

When you walk away
I want to chase

When you love someone
I want it to be me

Its selfish to think, to even want you
because at the end
it's her and not me.
 73° 
Kelsey
It's fascinating
That I keep coming back here.
When my heart breaks
And the darkness seeps in,
When there seems to be
No one to talk to
I come here
And I talk to myself.
I let strangers read the words
That no one can hear.
Even when they spill out of my mouth.
I come back to connect
With my true nature
And to those,
I dont even know their names.
So...I think I'll always be here.
So I can always be free.
My escape
 73° 
Lawrence Hall
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                       Thinking of You at Dawn

You are a poem, a song, a hymn at dawn
You are not like a poem, a song, a hymn
You are

You are great joy, romance, a sacred dance
You are not like great joy, romance, a dance
You are

You are the reality dreams want to be
And so you are not an ephemeral dream
You are

You are

You are
 72° 
Victoria Hanson
I finally feel
like I'm me again
I haven't felt this good
Since I don't know when
My heart is not heavy
my mind is not spinning
My soul is uplifted
my life rebeginning
My future looks brighter
The path is made clear
My family is closer
My friends are more dear
I’ve learned many lessons
That got me to this place
But the greatest of all
Is to give myself grace
 64° 
Caio Gomes
Uma sensação de leveza,
de extensĂŁo breve e duradoura.

Um arrepio percorre a nuca,
permeia o corpo,
e transborda em um arrepio.

Por uma melodia ou poesia
que ataca e rebate,
tocando a alma,
comovente
emoção elevadora.

Sensação infinita na infinidade.

Oh, se ao menos sempre tivesse sido,
para permanecer aqui, sempre.

Deleite e bem-aventurança, alegria e prazer,
emoção no olhar lacrimoso do coração,
alegria no sorriso da mente.

Se ao menos pudesse permanecer, sempre...
Prazer.
Escrevi este poema inspirado pela sensação de ouvir uma determinada música.
 60° 
Jamxsky
Smiling in my silent screaming pain,
It's like pushing the wall of hope in vain,
Then my heart aches to the bone,
Freezing me in the room to be alone.
Sometimes it's okay to be true to yourself, 'cause our emotions are valid and recognizing them is a matter for our growth and peace of mind.
 60° 
guy scutellaro
you are the moonflower,
and the sweet fragrance
of night blooming jasmine.

the mysterious, magical beauty
of a single night.

It is the passionate night that holds you.

nothing lives forever,
not the stars scattered in the skies
nor the sadness reflected in your eyes.

hold my hand, blue flower.
hold my wistful heart
tangled and intimate
in our distant romance.

the oak trees rustling in the wind.
there is something cold in the air...
the fleeting bloom of the night's flower.

oh, flower of the night,
the night will never release you.

a solitary tear falls. I draw the shades.
 59° 
Christian
I long for you more than the ocean longs to embrace the mountains.

I gravitate towards your benevolence just as a meteor to the Earth,
burning so deeply on my way to you I emerge refined, cleansed.
A new being.
 54° 
Nickolas J McKee
It was all too fast,
And it wasn’t our fault.
They hurt us to last,
As a wound touching salt.
Rope around my neck,
Tried and cried I couldn’t.
My life is a dreck,
Suicidal shouldn’t.
I hope you’re happy,
No matter that bad day.
False world seems sappy,
Purgatory I pray.
Never to see you,
Far from me you flew.
Definitions of Dreams & Things XVI – 16th Poetic Poem 14. Series by Nickolas J. McKee © 2025
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