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 2520° 
Jeremy Stacy
I see a tree split asunder, as lighting streaks I hear thunder from under my bunker I look up to a sky being plundered electricity in disencumber I anticipate this storm has my number, Zeus and his hunger after waking from slumber
had he been any younger he may not have encumber but to sunder old oak lumber in one shot that Summer has left me in wonder
 250° 
Mars
each & every memory of you fulfills my heart but hurts it too
 212° 
Elizabeth Roberts
When I was just a child
I would often leave home
and wander barefoot through the woods
to the creek , but not alone

my companions always seemed to be
the four footed variety
as a girl I had not many friends
so I made them in the wilderness

I would often lay out in the fields
and chatter with field mice
sneak into the thicket
and watch the deer 'til night

on more than one occasion
you could find me perched in a cottonwood tree
sketching the birds
that would whistle back and forth with me

I knew each and every snake
that hid beside the water
The bobcat, coyote, gopher, and the river otter
to them all, I was just
the Motherless Daughter
A glimpse into my youth
 124° 
Unrequited Love
You are worth more than you give yourself credit for

Its bad now

But we have been happy before and we will be again

I promise

You are beautiful and loved and worth it.
 122° 
J
is something that I can never say to you
I love you
are the words I want to hear from you
 91° 
Gill S
Grasp the ground.
Hug the Earth.
Protect the history that
Has sunk through
These layers of sand.
The waves of the ocean roll in.

She rages in her centers.
Storming in her own lands at the
Center of the sea,
The middle of the ocean.
There is every color within the water.
Violet seeps through her Earth as
Yellow reflects from the golden sun,
Glinting on the water,
Just hitting the corner of your eye,
Allowing the hues to
Flood your brain.
She washes over you and the sand,
Reminding you she's alive
And that you are alive with her.

Hug the Earth.
Grasp the ground.
 79° 
Bek Blanchard
Now there were two of them
Separated between thousands
of read texts and timely
chats touched by sound
but not skin  
Awake in the others sleeping
Sleeping in the others awake  
Restless as they wait
Restless as they wait
 75° 
Sarah Munoz
Wander through eternity
In this present limbo—
this twisting trail of time;
Taste the saccharine surreal
Of the cold November
Rain;
Let our axle withstand the burden
Of your pain.
And if the ride is tiring,
I’ll slow my pace again.
So if you want to love me,
Darlin’ don’t refrain.
Partly a found poem, using lyrics from “November Rain” by Guns N’ Roses and A line from the journals of Sylvia Plath.
 67° 
Deadwood Jawn
-------------------------------------------------------



H́ͨ̆ͪ̉­̴̛̫̥̳̪̘̫͙̟ͪ̈̓ͨ͟ͅE̶̊͒̔̀͛̌͡͏̛͉̦͚͚͔͝ ̵͑̔͗ͥ̉̐͋̈ͥ͒͑̋ͨ̍͂̚͏͕̼̲̫̥̫̮̙͖̤̮͖͓̲͍͍̀̕W̢̹͕̫͇̙̞͇̪̌̋̆̔̃͛͛ͩ͐̊̃ͨ̅ͮ̍͊̈́́̚­͉͕͍̞̱̠ͅͅA̛͆̋ͩ̓͋̓҉̶͙̣̹̥̩̘̪S̡̃ͤ͗̒̐̊͛̍̕͞͏̰͍͖̥̦͎̻̱̪̪̙̭̫͔͚̘̣͉ͅ ̵̉̈́̌̾̿ͪͤ̃̈́͏̡̗̪̦̹̪̟̞̪̗͇̯ͅN̸̢̨̺̱͉͙̝̖̣̻̺̳͔̮̱̜̪͚̠̤̜ͬͮ͐ͤ̋ͪͩ̇̂̀͊̉̏ͦ̏̌ͧ̑­O̵̡̹͓̣͙̘͈̩̳̫̼̖͙͌̂̃̚͘͠Ṭ̢͓̭̦̣̗̩̭̪͉͓ͤͬ̋̎̓̾̔͛͛̔͂̾ͬ̄͊ͦͥ̅͡ ̧ͩͤ̑̿̿̇̚͘͏̢̛̯̬͍̹̳̘͇̥̩̣̩̟̤̺͉A̶̴̬̗͍̥̞̞̩̝̩̣̰̳ͯ̎ͥ̏̃ͮͤ̆̋̏͜͜Lͨ̀̄̏̓̉̋͆̋̇­̸̧͔̼̰̪̱͕̞̺̬̼̘̟̭ͥ͐͒̅͗͠͝͠W̧̖͙̞̪͙͙ͮ̑ͥ͆͛̌̽ͭ͐̌ͩͦ̓́̚̚͘ͅA̰̺̝͙͖̻̹̘̣͌ͨ̾̓͢͜­̬̣̺Y̢͎̹̩̺̦̬͚͉̲͎͓͉̅̄̽̅̎̏̎̌͂̃ͫͭ͞͞S̴̵̨̠̞̖̠̳̖͇̓̇ͧͮͥ͗͑̅̃̾͗͂ͨ͊́̆ͨ͢͢ ͦ͌̌̃̋̒̽͜͏̴̧̪̯̻͙͇̙͈͉̠̠͇̜͈͇͍̣͕̞͢L̵ͪ̊̏̃ͭ̒͊҉҉̞̰̣̥̺͙̣̥̳̠̹̭̘̜̜̙Iͨ̂ͬ̑̿͋͐­̲̗̹͓̠̜͕̞̞̻͙̞͚̼̫̲̞̣̟̃͑̓̃̂͊͛̅̓ͥ̕͜K̅͊ͤ̃̊͂ͮ͊͒̒̎̿҉́͡҉͏̖̯̜̜͔̪̖̟̙̞̺͎̦̖̠E­̶̶̵̪̱̺͍̫͎̣̾̽̂̾̒ͣ̀ͬ̏̐̿ͭ̿͟͡ ̸̧̡̞̠̻̟́̅ͮ̋̕͢T̡̢̼͕̝̠̼̩̜̜͓̠̱̘̜̲̦́͆ͩͨ̈͊ͮ̆̈͑͐̚͜͢͝ͅH̡ͫͧ͛̐ͦ̋ͣ̔̓̾͆͐ͥͯ̚͢­͕͉̤̫̹̟͇̭́I̷̧̨̒ͬ̇ͬ̾̆ͬ̂̌͌͏͍͍͔̖̮̪̖͓̰͎̪Ş̴̰̭̜͓͚̖̯̦͇͓̞̹̼̺͖̐ͪ̐̅͒̚̕͘



­--------------------------------------------------------
He wasn't. Thanks for understanding, Lydia.. Lydia is angry.. Someone's hurt him..
This is Lydia speaking.
 60° 
Hoshi
Ḁ̷̘̘͗͂͒̀̋͝r̵̡̢̛̗̭͉̫̳̈̃ḛ̶̯̟͒͊̊̓ ̴̨͖̲͇̖̭̜͖͕̿͋͝y̴͇̘̩̯̐͂͐̍͝͝ͅơ̴̺̭̝͈͚̜͚͎͐̏͐̑̐̎̃̕ͅu̷͔͒ ̵̝͖̻̼͎̥̬̼͒̇͊p̶̨̘̲̻̒̊̇̈̿̊̋̚͝͝r̵̨͇̟̙̺͛̇̃̔͌̓́̚o̸̙̜̜͙̜̫̮̮̹͂̓̐̎̈́͝͠u̶̦̒­̡̖͍̤̖̻̲ḍ̸̡̲̰̖͍͉͇̫́͂̓ͅ ̶̱̠̮̌ǫ̴̗͇̬̮͕̭̳̹̑̂̋͋̓͑̉̈̕̕f̶̨̝̺͉̪̗̱̙͙̭̑̍̾̈́̂ ̶̡̗̱̺̤̱͔̔̒͐m̶̟̦̹͚̹͙͎̳̦̩̑͗͆̓̔̈́̍͒͝e̴͓̙͈̘̮͉̰̅̈́̓̇͘ ̵͎͍̳͌y̶̲̪̬͙̟͎̻͑͐́͂͋̒͗̃̚̕͜ͅë̷̼͈̫̽̓͒͜t̷̠̺́̉͐̈́̑?̷̮̑͠͠
I am not trying anymore. I am through with disappointing you.
 56° 
Safana
Every smile you
do in every sun
shine repeating
itself but today
I see you flying
on a wings like
a bird nearing
the sunny days
I see a blowing
happiness on
your cheeks
when you light
on your birthday
candle

Happy Birthday
        HAUWA🎂
 56° 
Deb Jones
In the dark
The truth seemed so enchanting
To open my heart
Be completely revealing
But standing in the bright light of day
The truth seems less appealing
So I write it in the notebook of my mind
And force myself to choke it down
 52° 
Traveler
Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
  Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes

Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test

Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim
Hay
No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!
 52° 
MissNeona
Looking for the thing you lack usually means you ignore who's got your back
 47° 
Astral
When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.
 46° 
Jamie
You beautiful,
Beautiful
Woman you --
I'm in awe of you,
You lovely woman
 45° 
Khoi
A rhythmic poem
Beethoven danced with Mozart
uncanningly words
the acorns tumble, the dried leaves slip slowly sideways,
each a slow motion death, almost balletic, or acrobatic,
the decedents, like bodies on the Field of Hastings, their
skeletons to be consumed by a history ******* earthy soil

this more than any thing, as much as covid deaths of known
older brothers more than the messages on the answering
machine from robotic nurses and truly concerned doctors,
impatiently waiting to discuss test results with still alive patients

four lines in each stanza was unplanned like sets of decades,
that the man’s life can be retrospectively be divisibly assayed,
each titled, consistent of games and sets, until the last match
not on center court, is finale tie-broken, the faults too numerous

he writes this unshaken, but stirred, for the hours spent observing,
of each trajectory of every fallen leaf is distinctly connected to losses,
oh! how the losses multiplied; loves, children, unspoken words of
affection and forgiveness, mounted, moats, barriers to fulfillment,

a lawn of dead shriveled things, mounting, dear mother of god, all

préludes that hasten(ed) the shedding of lives every August!
 43° 
E
The face in the mirror
the look in the eye's
that reflection ain't me it's just a disguise
the fading of hair
the wrinkles that bend
it's just a life story that's told on my skin
this man in the mirror he ain't really me
their's a child inside that want's to be free
that woman of mine you could say she's the same
sometimes in the covers we laugh and play games
but as I get old and my life bears thin
I think of the fun
and think of the friends
so you could say i'm kind of bold
it's just a part of getting old
A poem my dad wrote on his 45th birthday
we all thought it was funny but truth is
I think it was the greatest one he ever wrote
 43° 
Ciel Noir
When I don't understand the harm
I ask myself
what if I could?

When it seems like a false alarm
I ask myself

Am I the wolf?
 41° 
Johnny's Brother
From Eternity's viewpoint
you're already
dead and buried.
 39° 
a m a n d a
you can’t
u n see
the
m a t r i x
 38° 
Nat Lipstadt
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


This is not a poem.  This is about a poem.

Poems require words.  This poem does not require words.

This poem requires memories' muscles.
This poem requires what is called colloquially love.

Learn that what we share here is not poetry.

Your poetic senses that produce the words that mark you present
are but surgical tools to extract, release the whole and the parts of you that help shape that single sense borning in your chest that defines you at any particular moment.

Quæ est mater Laureat.

She is the Mother Laureate.

She is the boundary you must learn to cross to be more than a re-arranger of letters and alphabets, but a translator of the human essence and fill our veins with the a sense of awe and wonder felt when we read each other and think aloud,
"yes, exactly, that was and is precisely what I was feeling."

She is the glue that keeps us sticking here, sticking together, each of us sticking to it.  

You do not know her?  
No worries, she will find you when you least expect it, perhaps
when you need it.

This is not a poem.  This is a human who's a poem.

Understand the difference and then you may begin a journey
that has no destination other than weaving the connective tissue that makes us anticipating excited when we log on.

Happy Birthday Mother Poet Laureate!

I do not think I can write a better not poem for you.  
Forgive me then, if going toward, I repost this every
October 24th as long as the chemical composition of
blood, God, spirit, logos or reason runs free within,  
exiting as words encased in tears that formulate into
human poetry.

nattyman

P.S.There are 800 poems here with Sally in the title, and least 700  are about Sally B.   If you like, please  feel to free to add yours, old or new.
 36° 
Traveler
This is a gift I brandish alone
My sheath is my passion
My sword is my poem
Intellectual aesthetic‘s
My centre of pleasure
My creativity flows on
This body is tethered

People can make me feel quite strange
They roll their eyes and shake their brains
Seldom are they on the same page
Where poetry flows
In an aesthetic array

But this is who we are
And there is no need to change
The expanding universe
Is calling our names
...................
We are the creative ones of our societies
It is not a burden but the gift,

Traveler Tim
 33° 
tainted black
..
she
closed her
eyes and took
a very deep breath,
crossed her fingers then
w  h     i     s    p   e    r     e   d,
"I long to see the   o n l  y
man who made me
shine in his
darkness
..
 33° 
Faith Hull
I
   CANNOT
                       BELIEVE
I
     LET
                MYSELF
                                    TH­INK
YOU
          WERE
                       EVEN
                                    SLIGHTLY
A
     KIND
                 HUMAN.

ALL
          I AM
                     TO YOU
IS
     A SET
                  OF STAIRS.
Goodbye, you dirtbag. Your selective empathy, constant patronization, deceitful words, and manipulative heart string tugging has made me angry for a time, but for no longer.
 30° 
Iléana Amara
sometimes you have to learn
how to fall in love with the unknown.

IA
 29° 
s y kalindara
I laid my pen and line to rest for twenty seasons
as the frost settling in my mind and fingers, warmed up to dream
only to waken again by the grace of a lover,
a muse unlike any other,
a kaleidoscope of raining colours.

With the twinkling of your eyes,
the words fell out of my head,
parading on papers for the world to see
just as my veins welcomed the warmth of creativity.

You are the vision behind every verse I'm founding,
thirteen in counting,
a finer motive than fresh air and tranquil sleep
every fibre is clawing at me to keep you close
to never fade away like a withering rose.

Will my senses still serve me without your touch?
Will I ever write again if I let myself forget
the melody of your voice and your silhouette?
I'm not ready to find out just yet.

We have taken a vow, my pen and I
to keep you alive, for an age or two
or however long it might take to find
our glory in someone new.


Copyright © 2020 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
Thinking about how I stopped writing for 5 years until I met Jordan and he inspired me in ways I didn't think possible. I'm still writing because of him, and about him. I feel like I can't let go, that I'll disgrace his memory if I do.
 27° 
misha
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you
if only i could chase you with pizza but shots don't work like that
 27° 
Eric the Red
For all those
1
0
0
0
Days
1
0
0
0
Sunsets
1
0
0
0
Sunrises
1
0
0
0
Nights
Where my heart
Still said
Goodnight
To yours...
 27° 
Dr Peter Lim
I planted the seeds
in the garden
it does seem a long while ago
I have forgotten-
this morning the first sprouting
of the roses caught me by surprise
it was sunny, mild were the breezes
blue clouds sailed leisurely
my pet dog barked for some unknown reason
a magical moment
lost in time
I felt the pulse of life
and I was alive
in rapturous wonder
 26° 
Kelly Hogan
E
I am empty,
Out of gas
On a forgotten road
I've reached an impasse.
I feel nothing, I am nothing, what's the point anymore.
 26° 
JL Smith
It's been said,
If you love something
Let it go

So you did
And I'm free,

But I'll return
Knowing

You love me

© JL Smith
 25° 
Wanderer
Is it the words whispered
in secret corridors
i love you

are they proclaimed boldly
from roof tops
I LOVE YOU

Or maybe love
sounds like laughter
giggles shared only between two

what if love has no noise
its beauty is similar to a sunset
seen and felt
but never heard
 24° 
REY
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
 23° 
Rupert Pip
Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.
Get to know me like I do you; inside and out.
 23° 
Ariana Bagley
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
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