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Kaleisha McPherson
You say that I cannot comprehend
The vastness of your feelings
When in reality it is I
Who cannot comprehend the strength of my own
Steve Sufian
Within the glare of all hard times
Is the Kindness we revere
The Gentle Love that heals all ills
With Power, Knowledge, Care.
Rama Krsna
to the crescent bearing jewel
who’s pure as jasmine,
easily placated
with heartfelt devotion,
eradicator of the
lingering fear of annihilation,
i offer my toxic ego
for a deserved crucifixion

© 2019

ખુલી આંખોએ જોવાય નહિ સપના, આં તું ક્યારે સમજશે ?

આવું કરશે તો વિખૂટા પડી એ તારી આંખો સામેથી ઓઝલ થશે.

સમજ જરા, સપના જોવા માટે માનવ ને જોઈએ,  મીઠી નીંદર.

પણ તું તો શાંતિપ્રિય શશી ને બદલે માંગે તપતો રવિન્દર .

યાદ હશે તને, નીંદર ન આવે તો સપના ક્યાંથી આવે;

એટલે જ, ભર દિવસે, મારી ખુલી આંખો સપના સજાવે.

Armin Dutia Motashaw
Wonderfully Broken
His favorite food:

His favorite place:

His favorite band:

His favorite person:

His favorite things to do:

Leaving me without a word and then he will comeback— pretending he never leave me, exactly.
Justin Soberano
sometimes i fear,
the time that is near,
in which i hear,
a mysterious seer,
become sincere,
and i see nadir.

im so sorry dear,
i have to shift gear,
for i saw a deer,
i saw it disappear.

i tried to peer,
but my eyes sear,
it caused a stir,
i shed a tear.

the chaos is clear…
a short poem i wrote on twitter about hesitation and inaction, being held back by your past; your regrets and fears
Write it down
Write it all down

The way you need me
The way you love me
The way you want me

Ink it down
Ink it all down with tooth and nail
Ink it down with bites and scratches

Breathe it all into me, under my skin
Mark me with all that I am to you

You own me.
my opinion doesnt matter.

no matter what i do


thank you for making me feel


Steve Page
Your tears will speak for you
while your loss dries up all words.

The spreading tearstains
on my shoulder
are eloquent enough.
Loss strikes you dumb. That's okay.  Just find someone to hold you.
Torin Galleshaw
she moves to me
whether in a picture or sat against the sea
as a cloud she floats gently above me
the currents and the streams
her neck where sections sit
the way her necklace rests ever so delicately
her soft brown skin
through all this land
she moves to me

she is
sunshine on a crystal morning
and pearls

she moves to me
whether its a mirror or stood against the sky
as the music the cosmos makes in our silence
the stars and the planets
her neck where moons beam
the way her necklace follows her collorbone
through all this space
she moves to me
whether its gravity or we as entangled particles
and we are in every moment as we are together
our quantum dancing
her neck where time begins
the way her necklace falls so gracefully into place
through all this time
she moves to me

I kiss her just below her right ear
and I know now is everywhere
and everytime is now
the sun and the moon
the spiral galaxy
the walls that hold in time
I kiss her just below her right ear

she moves to me
whether its the wind or impossible odds
as the dreams we hold dear and our hope that keeps us strong
our faith and love
her neck which i caress gently
the way her necklace seems to retire when she does
I kiss her on the eyelids
she moves to me
I am on the other side
Of the door
You are solid
As I am pale

Days, they no longer abide
Sleep, is no more
You sink in the flood
As I quietly sail

Farewell is a whisper
Seeping through the cracks
Bricks in the wall
I can’t climb

Memory is what we were
A spark in the flashbacks
A fading footfall
It’s my time
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.
Peter Gareth
I want to be a different person
No, not someone else
But an improved version of myself
And a huge part of that process
Is to get rid of all the layers of you
That remain rooted in me

So I'll skin myself to the bone
Besides how painful it may be
Until I can finally state to the wind
That you no longer pull my strings
As it gently messes my hair
And whisper that I'm free
Some lines about my daddy issues... I had the most messed up childhood and it's quite hard to forgive him for it.

I will write
a poem about
I have lost all my words
If I don't have those,
What even am I?
On my way
to you
I lost
in my own life
It was a little bit
Like flying
And a little bit
Like dying
you are the star
that makes beautiful
all the darkest nights
and warms all days
when the cloud cover breaks,
not just when one sky
says so himself
Should this go in the book to lighten the tone a little?
Hmm I've only got a
few likes today hmm maybe
my writings not good

Why am I even
writing what's it's all about
What's the point , I only feel

anxious now , deep breaths
Now I feel silly why did
I write that , oh jeez

heart beating feel sick!!
Then my self doubt passes and
I'm back to lovely

place again! Self doubt
sure can grip me making me
feel really down! But you

see writing helps dig
through negativity , am
I a poet or not

Maybe , I'm not sure
But I'm much more too , I'm a
wife a mum a sister

a friend. I've wrote my
heart out for five years now non
stop to be honest

But now I'm in such
a lovely place of content
I'm living happy

Of course I still get
life stresses hit me and yeah
I get negative

But one thing I can
always rely on is my
passion for writing

It helps mentally
to keep me strong and focus
May it come from my

heart or mind or once
in awhile I like to write
stories , fun fun fun :)

I'm slowing down now
Gone and got myself married :)))
Tis so wonderful

Children are growing
up fast , there leading there own
life's more every day

So I'm finding new
hobbies to keep me active
Life changes happen

But to write , will be  
in me always , tis part of me
it's just there always

So to all who love to
write have fun dry those tears up
Find your happy place :))
Have a lovely week ahead :)) love to u all xxxx
Kelly McManus
If the one percent
want to fund the government
you serve the servant
                                        Kelly McManus
Penguin Poems
If want was water,
I would be drowning, my head under completely
and my oxygen quickly depleting.
If confusion was cold,
My fingers would be numb and I wouldn't even
have a coat to ward off the freezing.
If youth was you,
It would be slipping away by the second,
And I can't get a hold to stop it.
my air is gone,
I'm shivering to the bone,
and can't keep a hold on.
But, this is only a poem:
I know I'm not suffocating, subzero, or slipping.
But I can't help but feel like the more I write,
the farther I get from reality
and the closer I get to metaphor mortality.
late at night, i lie awake
thinking of things i should have said
all the mistakes i've made
and signs i should've read

then think about what i can't live without
you, front and center in my mind
sometimes it feels like halfway love
almost, but not quite

still, parts of you make me whole
who i am and who i need to be
i think of love letters that weren't torn up
feelings of blue and green

when i'm without you
blank page, artless innocence
i realize how dependent i've grown to you
and feel the need to create a distance

sometimes i look up at the purple sky
and wonder if you're looking too
i gaze at the colors and the beauty of it all
though its beauty would never compare to you
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 too *******.
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.
If you don't heal what hurt you,

You'll bleed on people who didn't cut you.
Eva Rushton
I spent a smile
On another today
The cost was of little
But a soul it did save
I spent a smile
On another today
My heart it grew lighter
Their world became brighter
The smile I spent
On another today
Came back to me
With happiness I see

Written by E.M.Rushton
June 24 th 2019
15 floors up on the terrace,
Distance seems endless,
Figures an oil painting,
Buildings just dust,
Noise a never-ending static,
Fog a malfunction in the code,
The sky nothing but a watercolour,
And the sun just a fragment of time,
Laughing at the dreamers who rhyme

Only you and these tears now seem real,
Will it forever be just the once?
Paras Bajaj
when I thought it was the beginning,
you ran away thinking it was the end.
sometimes I feel like I know you so well,
sometimes you are just so hard to understand.
I fell in love
Her voice cracked and
I heard my own

I exploded in
To a story I knew
Was hers and mine

Led me along
A time and a dream
Riches to rags
You Get
Xaela San
I'm not "smart" like them.

I'm not "bright" as them.

I'm not "confident" like them.

I'm not "beautiful" as them.

I'm not "someone" like them.

Can you just accept that?

I don't like crying myself anymore

-Said myself in the mirror.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
moon child

ting is
your           life
thro             ugh
a ne           edle
and         if
you sew
I had coffee and a cigarette for breakfast
So yeah I'm doing fine
I've become good at taking weight off of other peoples shoulders
Searching for happiness in everything
Here we go again, another night
of gold and green, sunflowers and camouflage
confetti sinking lower and lower, decorating heads of hair
screaming, crying, cheering
being one with the music
a community, one that is filled with joy and support
sing, boy, sing
I'm going to see Twenty One Pilots tonight!!!
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.
Terry Collett
Olga hears the news
in the wind.

Stalin is dead
and people were crying.

They cried
while he lived
now they cry
because he died.

Still she hears tall trees
speak in the voice
of the wind;
still hears
her husband's voice
carried on the wings
of the wind
from death cells
or some distant gulag
baptized in deep snow.
A Russian widow in 1953
If a picture buys
Something like a thousand words,
Which of us is robbed
If I should, as a kindness,
Paint with so few syllables?
my grip is slipping,
and falling scares me.
my world is fading away.

                          ­     p

writing was an escape but even now words slip off the paper like tear drops.
why does it have to be like this?
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