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 125° 
South by Southwest
The beach , sea gulls and surf

The mountain , the hike and view

The wheatfields , waving seas of grain

The moonlight , on cold desert sand

The aligators , sunning on the river bank

The fireflies , amongst the evening shadows

The mustangs , running wild and free

The campfire , listening to the cry of the wolf

Golden fall leaves , and the silence of detachment and acceptance

Life , as it was , is and will be
something empty
in my life
feels less empty
when i write
 80° 
deanena tierney
The sun played with trees this morning
It tickled the dew laden leaves
And tagged the shadows
Enticed a game of hide and seek
With the spiders webs
While the sparrows laughed along
With the audience of squirrels
In the backyard playground.  
It was peace enough for the day
I sent it all to you
On a prayer
Through the stone walls.
 67° 
D
I'm the favourite mug in the kitchen,
Dependable,
Stable,
That mug has seen things,
Listened to everything without judgement,
Inherently taken for granted,
Because as soon as that mug shatters,
It cannot be pieced back together,
It's no longer that dependable mug.
It cannot be replaced once broken.

Look after your mugs.
 62° 
Salmabanu Hatim
Is about being content and enjoying whatever all you have.
3/10/2022
 54° 
David Lessard
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
 46° 
Amanda Kay Burke
I tried to save you many times before
Witnessed others try to save you too
Finally I realize that the only person
Able to save you from your demons is you
I don't want to save you, only show you the light you have within you so you can use it to save yourself
 27° 
Prerna Singh
Your silence
Poisons
My ears
https://ofpoetsandpoems.com
 24° 
Mancy
You may not be
The moon or
A star or
The sun
Beaming vision to the world.

But to me
You are
The cute little
Firefly
Casting hope in me.
 18° 
Zoe Grace
I really dont know
How i feel at all, but i
Want to feel loved please.
 18° 
Psychorange
\
I'm not as half as beautiful as this man
/
But he's a Halfie like you
\
He's got no acne, I got scars on my face
/
But scars go away
\
Scars are scars they stay
/
No, they heal
\
Oh well, what can I say?
 16° 
M P Hill
Your light is ancient
I'm processing the beauty of it all
the fatality of harmonies silenced

You've burned into me your blue screen eyes
Raptured in your violence, nearest to me
processing all of it; dying sun
can't [X] out of these windows
can't go back
 15° 
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.
 13° 
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
 13° 
Virtuous
I think the sun has grown jealous
Of my friendship with the moon
I prefer dusk to dawn
And midnight instead of noon
 13° 
cs wondering
This is not a poem;
This is an artist screaming to be heard in the abyss of life's harshest realities.

This is not romantic;
This is an artist learning to to be in love with her very self.

All this years, I have been trying so hard to create a person I could love.

Little did I realize, what I was looking for has always and-
will always be within me.

I think I've learnt to love myself.
I think I'm finally free.

This is a poem;
This is an artist screaming to be heard in the abyss of life's harshest realities.

This is romantic;
This is an artist learning to to be in love with her very self.

All this years, I have been trying so hard to create a person I could love.

Little did I realize, what I was looking for has always and-
will always be within me.

I think I've learnt to love myself.
I think I'm finally free.
I think-

— c.s wondering
Hello friends!

It's been so many years since I last came on here to create poems. I guess something sparked inside of me tonight, and just like that- I'm back.

And I hope everyone has been well x
 13° 
Sul-E
There used to be a bottle on the wall.
It was very green.
I'm sure it was the loneliest green bottle
that I had ever seen
It used to sit on the wall
all day and all night
And every day, when I looked out of the window,
it was always in my line of sight
Then one day, a cat came along.
Something was going to happen; I could tell
The cat then accidentally nudged it
and off the wall, it fell
When it had fallen off the wall
it had dropped with a very loud sound.
There were all these little pieces of the green bottle
all over the ground
Then the cat yelped
and I knew it had gotten hurt
I could quite obviously see its paws were caked in
blood and dirt
The bottle wasn't harmful in the beginning
it did not look the slightest bit treacherous
but after a nudge in the wrong direction
it became very dangerous
Now I look back at you smiling
next to me on the big armchair
Your fingers running through your soft locks of hair.
You remind me a lot
of that green bottle.
In the beginning, you were harmless
you were all sorts of fun.
Now you hurt me.
Could you tell me why
as I don't quite know what I've done
 12° 
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
 11° 
Max
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
 11° 
haysia
They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love.
"
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
 11° 
Lexie
Press me against you
Like flowers in a book
 10° 
Tatiana
I'd set fire to the air you breathe
so you can burn with every
inhale
and
exhale
©Tatiana
 10° 
Luna
How to become a poet:
Let someone rip your soul apart.
And in the need of mending ,
You will replace it with words.
 9° 
Contraducción
"I'm not a poet. I don't feel like one.
I like writting. That's all."
Have a nice day
 9° 
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!

Vanity
All is vanity
The meanings of passion
The aesthetic expression
The lines we draw and stay within
Even love is beyond intent
Vanity transcends
Flowing from our pens
And so we breathe again
 9° 
Ann
keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.
"Keep your eyes closed, love. sometimes all you have to listen is to what the sound of the waves tells you to do."

When I was much younger, beaches were my second favorite places. I still love watching waves as they go by, crashing against each other and the whole process repeating all over again.
 9° 
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.
What if we silent sit in an empty room
and speak without an uttered word?
What if unconscious poems well up
in us, no trying need there be? What
if strands of grass grow and flowers
bloom while azure skies and white
clouds blow by without a sound be
heard? And what if a kiss for one is
a kiss for all and our hearts and souls
are one without us ever knowing?

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
 8° 
Infamous one
Q99
Years of shutting off emotions and feelings held on. Feeling numb and depressed because things didn't happen or turn out accordingly. Still in the pursuing a dream, doing what he likes loves trying to bring it together.
Looking for yourself in the work being part of the material. Who he was and what he's becoming in the future.
 8° 
Dom
He was smooth but not understanding
He was charming but not loyal
He was beautiful but a manipulator    
I knew this would come to and end
I knew I was a fool
He was secure but brought my insecurity
He was strong inside but not loving
He was my first but never mine
 8° 
Star BG
Human life is like a book...
The middle being birth.
The end death.
And the middle
a souls adventure of expansion.

Human life is like a book.
A grand story
unwinding with feelings as words
and moments as footmarks.

Once concluded it’s bond
in spirits core memory
to take one then
to a new book-cover of spirit.
A new beginning of
chapters where a sequel begins
with a beginning, middle, and end.
First poem of the day.
 7° 
Sam Tate
Sometimes, the words don’t come.

The consistent stream of consciousness, ceases.

I am left with nothing to say.

There is a beauty in the broken mind.

Like an abandoned building taken by nature.

It is not that my mind does not work.

It is that it works too fast,

And I am left behind,

Scrabbling in the dust,

Desperately seeking a connection,

In the discarded fragments of thought.

I am fighting a losing battle.

I fear the white flag will soon arise.

And signal the end.
 7° 
shatteredpoet
i never intended
to take apart
all the pieces
you glued back
together
 7° 
sancus
you take all of the
stars in the night sky with you
whenever you leave.
 7° 
A
Dear death,

I have met life,
He wants me to fight,
But I'm so weak-
So can we meet?
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