Snow arrived,
quite suddenly.
The city fell
to silence:
softness flurried,
whiteness spread.
Our footsteps
punched a rhythm:
crisp heel, crisp toe.
Steaming cars slid past
in slush, peeling back
the long black road.
The trees drooped:
tears splattered on
the streets, but
still my heart
lay cold.

your too cute for me
maybe even too cute for this ugly society

if I take your hand
will you let me hold it?

if I kiss your lips
will you kiss mine back?

when sadness calls me
will you lend me your smile?

sometimes I think your to sweet
other times your just too cute

Where have you gone, little child
—my little child
You told me all your secrets
but never told me your plans
and was it nothing to you?
—all those golden weeds we plucked
and laughs that bloomed
I should’ve built you a castle out of it all—

I should’ve covered the windows with dry leaves
and letters
I know well of the temptation, but
what was ever so promising in that hazy night?
My little bird,
didn’t I teach you how to fly
didn’t I adorn your feathers with petals
—and poems
I wrote tales for your wings and
Will this be your repay?

What of the endless hills we sailed over
All the gleaming waters we kissed
I should’ve built you a kingdom out of it all—
We could’ve been queens of a starry land yet
here we are

I sit with the weeds, they chew away our lilies
you have long run away
with the dark
and the world is dry—
the world is dry without you.

Nothing drastic
Nothing pure
Noble stains
Distinct liquid drinking
Slipping and seeping
Coming calm in the world
Knowing nothing
Calling into air
Surviving
Discovery
Certain and uncertain motion
Always motion
Interior rivers pulse
Ancient wisdom
Reawakening
Slowly
Irresistably stretching
Infinitely entwined
Endlessly on

                            By Phil Roberts

Come to sleep
Drift with me in gentle landscapes
Of obscure velvet death

Our void of clouded minds
Contributes to our crimson love

This comfort I find in your death grip
You seem to save it for times like this
Our moments of becoming
Exclusive

Follow my skeletal fingers
Into the the icy realm
Of eternity
And silence

Some people die every second
A day.
Others
still live  even after their death.
Their life has no end.
I feel out of breath.

I kissed a girl with a broken smile;
nothing could come near.
She carved it with a pocket knife;
slit from ear to ear.
And she wears it like her favourite scarf;
it keeps her from the cold.
So I told her its only woven by
her enemies of old.

I called you blue haired boy because it made you a fantasy to me
It made it impossible for you to hurt me when you didn't have a name
But eventually I gave you a name
And you hurt me
You taught me so much but I refuse to be grateful that I ever met you

Inside you

is where I want to

be,

thrusting

within the folds

of your mind

penetrating

the sweet softness

of your soul,

throbbing

as I release my love

deep within you.
                                     Jon York   2019.

I don't need to view as they do.
For they are as giants
My measure is less and
I am alright with this.
I'm a work in progress
To become more yet.

Yet.

I have known since long ago
Souls are not made of flesh and bone
Not of muscle, sinew or tissue
That they are deeper and within you

They live beyond us mortal beings
And they see past the eye of seeing
That they endure more then life
With all its pain and all its strife

With them they carry our lifes lessons
And with time they never lessen
But grow stronger over time
Forever and eternally they will shine

When my body has grown old
My skin is not the story told
I will live forever
A debt my soul endeavors

So come the day that I may die
From deaths hand I will not hide

I made this for you
It's not much
Just a paper flower
Folded with care

I could've gone to the store
Picked one out
Found the most beautiful flower
And bought it just for you

But this one has something special
It has my heart and soul in it
A piece of me
that's just for you

This is more than just a flower
This is my gift to you
I want you to have it
So a piece of me will always be with you

Dear me,
Don't just sit
Rise, and pursue greatness.

Don't just watch
Go after what you want.

Don't just exist
Strive and start living.

Don't just dream
Work hard and aim for success.

Don't get tired
Keep hiking until you get to the peak.

I knelt down
Washed your feet in my tears
And dried them with my hair
Though in my heart I knew
You could not walk on water

Si le grain ne meurt
Ta passion
N'éclora jamais.

Et il y aura toujours
Dans ton âme
Comme des débris
D'univers inachevés.

Il y a dans ta main
Des trésors insoupçonnés

Mais creuse !!
Comment, autrement, le déterrer?!

Lay your head down beside me,
So I can feel your breath on my face,
I can hear the gentle sighs,
The slow exhale and inhale,
The gentle rhythm lulling me to sleep.

Continue your sweet lullaby,
So that I dream of peaceful melodies,
That make me sway in time,
With the slow exhale and inhale,
Of your breath on my face.

I am the deep, the sky in reverse
I have what you seek, for better or worse

I am the blue of infinite depth
I've swallowed the crews and cleared the decks

You are afraid or maybe intrigued
Of the place where you played and also was freed

Kiss me now like you did before
Give me your vow and the ocean is yours.

when i died the first time
inhaling an ocean
they said
this was not the plan
turn back.

and when i did
i tried to fly with no lessons
nor wings
and they called me
stubborn.

but i came round
and sought a chainsaw
and then a mermaid
and then death herself
i think she was

and each time
they said the same thing
over and over and over and over:
wrong destiny. wrong destiny.
go again.

the instructions are in a language i do not possess.

They’d waited too long to say

“I love you”.

3 words. 3 syllables.

Yet they held millions of emotions unspoken.

and now that they’d done it, they wouldn’t,
couldn’t, stop

they told each other all the time. In the end of the argument and before the good news.

In the middle of the storm, even though it was hard to see, and after, when the raging winds had settled on a breeze

before the rising sun turned the sky pretty colors and after it flickered out and faded away into the dark

Underneath the stars that their love had been etched into

There was no love until death for them. Because it would never stop. Their love was beyond. It rose above any border that would dare to try and stop it. There was no finish line

because they were each other’s end game.  
-L.R

Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.

i have everything i could have ever wanted..

so why won’t this aching feeling go away?
why do i still drag my feet along?

when the bridge i am walking on is made of solid gold?

To this day,
your name
still hurts my tongue
but I still say it anyway.
Sometimes I like to
hear my soul
gently tear itself
apart.

Life came back to normal for that one great day
The smiles on the faces the children at play

We all woke up to snow covered ground
Roads no tracks, roads no sound

The fields of green were covered in white
Children screamed with laughter and with fright
As they toboggan down the hill twas a wonderful site

Then the night faded and the light gave way
Back to our homes, lock-down, and another day

sometimes i wonder what it's like
to be a star
to look down on the world
while it's asleep
to watch the lost souls
wander outside at night
and look up at the sky
and smile
i wish i could be a star

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

In the cold, dark
        of January,
         I remembered
              you
        the most.
  As the chill
      snapped bones
              like branches,
     as the afternoons
   bathed themselves
in gray,
     as the birds
and the backs
      shook,
so did my lips
   around your name.
I'm so happy
     January is almost
over now.

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.