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 1320° 
Alaina Moore
Screaming internally; sitting in silence.
Make these feelings wash away without a word spoken.

Articulating perceptions while throwing water on burning oil.
Flames and rainbows blend until the fuel is exhuasted.

I am exhausted.
 988° 
Mark Toney
Startled at night, I awake,
frozen, motionless, immobilized,
eyes straining into the black void,
phantoms darting about me,
springing from every direction,
heart racing, rapidly breathing,

fantasy and fear running amok
10/16/2019 - Poetry form: Demi-Sonnet - -Demi-sonnets include seven lines of varying length and tend to be aphoristic in nature. The form was invented in 2009 by American poet Erin Murphy whose fourth book of poetry, Word Problems, is a collection of demi-sonnets. - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
 498° 
Em
In Death
there are only
Machines.

Machines
made to guide the man
to a heaven
that never existed.
i woke up in between naps to write this im going to sleep again
 468° 
Lillith
A little girl once said to me

" You say your fine, but your eyes

make you look dead inside. "

And then I got scared,

Thinking she new what was wrong,

But then I remembered to lie,

And all my problems were gone.
This is a true story.
 311° 
Madeysin
Toy
I’ll use your grief to scratch sweet relief into the bug bite on my wrist
 240° 
cassandra jane
heaven, darling
open your eyes
see the milk and honey the world brings
heaven, child
don't let the absence of light change your heart
heaven, angel
see the earth in all its glory
heaven, my love
do not ever let your aureole slip
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
 220° 
labyrinth
Awe
I suppose, I don’t care that much if you agree
Everywhere, injustice prevails against the law
Trapped yet not alone under this corrupt debris
Accompanied by grief while staring in awe
 194° 
A Freedom
'it might forge it for a while,
like each origin does its wicked child,
consume its speech and smile,
but it begins drooling out,
like saliva through a cloud,
yet for this One...
'how many' selves were drowned...
in Golden streams of splendid recreation,
until this One...
liquidising sanity,
coughing its medicinal observation,
now Happy knows,
has lost its cups of wisdom somehow.'
 149° 
insanewriter
I couldn’t cry, not anymore. ;
 129° 
Millie
Obsessive compressive
Self flawed and depressive
This puzzle never fixed
My mind is a glitch
This loop is infinite
Till begrudgingly
I let go
 115° 
onlylovepoetry
~
the Nth culling
~
she gentled sleeps besides the imperfect poet,
who has wandered the hallways since four am,
retuning his returning to their temple bed,
to cull, pluck, her each precious breathing sound,
source material for his
Nth
love poem

smirking at his own
Nth foolishness,
weeping tears at the consequences
of human interactions,
he wonders,
why does he worry,
searching to distinguish
between the black and white of life,
hunting for meaningful words

when all the while
he has the vein
of her breathing to mine,
as if he were a Ruth,
following behind
the harvest reapers,
culling a bounty of
dropped grains,
fallen unto him to
garner, imbibe and memorize


those Nth breaths,
that last but seconds,
but here memorialized for
his own
all time
 104° 
Diya soni
Sometimes fate just cant stop meddling !!
 87° 
Leiser Poetry
The times you hear the words
I love you its the typical cliche
they slip out
sometimes casually
think carefully about the
real meaning behind
the words next time you use them
love is shown by actions
doing things for the ones
you care about and not only spoken.
 84° 
CLARYT
If I seem broken on the inside,
It was him. Not you,


(C)[email protected] 23/10/2019
Scars left by another, seen by the one who loves us now
 78° 
F A Pacelli
it is easy to ride 
the wave of life
to let forces carry you 
from one place to the next 
and little by little 
you forget who you are
and why you are 
it takes great strength 
to step off this rollercoaster 
and embark on a new path
that is uniquely you
 76° 
Cristyann
I'm sorry,
I said
And you begin to
shut me out of
your life.
 71° 
blackbiird

mama told me to love hard
not be a fool hard in love for the
wrong person.

as usual, I don't listen too well to mama.

do yourself a favor and don't fall in love with the wrong person.
 70° 
Tori Schall
There is nothing better
than the gentle caress
Of two hearts
beating in unison
 69° 
Steve
Because the earth’s round
Doesn’t mean it’s  having a ball.

Because waves crash
Doesn’t mean that they aren’t in control.

Because the sea is deep
Doesn’t mean that it’s thoughtful

Because land meets the sea
Doesn’t mean that they agree

Because you float my boat
Doesn’t make me the captain.
Five little ten worders to ponder.
 68° 
lins
8 months   in a blink of an eye
8 months   of our life gone by

8 months   of love like no other
8 months   being here for one another

1 year         getting to know your heart
1 year         never wanting to be apart

8 months   me and you together
8 months   leading us to forever
you are my whole heart

19/9/19
 65° 
maddie
i want to delete all the memories
just like i did with all our pictures
i want to forget our history
and act like we're strangers
i don't want to miss you anymore
i want to get over you and close the door
i know you're not missing me
i know this is how it's meant to be
#forget #memories #relationship #missyou #strangers
 65° 
Marina
You're the truth I'm always wanting to keep.
Your love drives people crazy, out of the wind.
 64° 
Poetoftheway
“when down dreaming ups” (Pradip)*/

a mysterious phrasing sent,
the meaning devolving, beyond the obvious,
but slow like, as the mind turns and tastes
these words in different places, ways

when I lay me down to keep,
the dreaming up-ramping, the poems,
don’t know of absent muses, inspiratory lacking,
tongue tied eyes, all banished from the dream world,
where the poems come more than regular,
uninhibited and restless,
begging to be easy birthed,
oh please, oh please!

when down we lay,
up tempo do the brain’s creation ports
turn fiery red, agitated, masses of
tired, poor poems, yearning to be free
disembark all seeking a touchstone statue
to set them free to liberty

my speaking eyelids rapid typing,
placing whole writings in cracks in
the wailing wall, on my own temple mount,
where Hindi letters become stick figures
dancing praises to the lord and stars and
crescendo crescents interlock their tips,
until one dream complete is downloaded
to moistened, ready lips, for I am up, up,

from my down dreaming





10/20/19  8:54am
 61° 
Anjali
Sometimes,
I just wanna leave
everything and everyone
Just to see who'll find me
In the crowd of thousands
Will ever someone actually
be bothered about my absence
I wanna sit back and watch

-   SASR
 60° 
wreckingball
How sinful of me
to not regret
you.
 59° 
moon
18
growing hurts sometimes.
i want you by my side but you can't be here.
you aren't good for me and that hurts too.
twitter : @omw2you
 54° 
Akshay
These words are for me,
For I'm the one who's hurting,
I'm just healing myself.
I often wonder why we can't understand other's poems sometimes, but deep down it is the one who writes it knows the value of it.
Heart goes searching for music in mind.
Stays futile since it couldn't find.
Mind says don't you worry I'm
Penning muse snow flurry
Which has love and care
That we can share
With others
And sing
With
Joy
 48° 
mal frost
i sinned
just like yesterday
and the day before that
and the day before that...
and the day before that......
tomorrow,
i sin
 47° 
yasmin
Because sometimes,
paper is the only one
who listens.
 45° 
Lovely
I can read his mind like I wrote it.
 45° 
R
For I

Am Afraid
To be afraid
In front of many different people

And I

Am afraid
That my vulnerability
Will only give them more

Bullets
I have too many secrets
 41° 
Stan
He is fire
But that fire could be perfect fit for hell

Well,

don’t be tempted by the devil
Our kind of dance
would be forbidden whatsoever

Only if the devil agreed and took me to his chambers
loved me and cherished my existence

But he did not see, nor did he hear
He left me hanging to my tears
 41° 
Blckstr
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.
 41° 
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!
Explanation 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
I love you all!!

Who said explanation marks were merely laughing at your own joke?!
you opened me up,
i lay for you
like a butterfly
still,
vulnerable,
ready once more
to surrender,
waiting for you
to sink your teeth in.
but you pulled away,
and left nothing
but paper wings
and the harsh truth
behind you.
 40° 
Star BG
Sometimes I sit at my desk
and think that MY poetry writes me.
That it bubbles up like rising dirigibles
tweaking my impulses to write.

Verses become effervesce tickles
to launch heartbeats.
Canopies of breath filled with words
get syphoned into heart.
Bristol waves of passions
gracefully float
traveling
from heart to hand with pen.
Dancing Pen to crystal page.
Golden text to readers eyes
and than perhaps a readers hand
who graciously gifts me with sun
and smile.
 40° 
Prez
The window to your soul,

Eyes don't lie,

All your internal pain,

Through them you can't hide,

The sadness you've endured,

Times you have cried,

Feeling bound,

Yearning to be untied.
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