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 1272° 
Viktoria
Somewhere
Somewhere between joy and frustration
Between reality and imagination
Between love and hate, day and night, black and white
That’s where we are
So close but so far
 510° 
143
I don’t know if I lost my way to you or if you just decided to shut me out.
But I promise I’ll find the map back to you.
Because you’re one person I never want to lose.
if you think it’s about you i promise it’s not
 507° 
ฝίιισಬ
There are six strings
on my guitar.
Although they are different,
bigger or smaller,
louder or timid,
I need them all
to create my melody.
 365° 
esther fraser
i fell for you and you only watched.
 313° 
johanna larson
i still call you, just to hear your voicemail.
i wish one day you would pick up the phone.
but at least i can still hear your voice



uncomfortable

i needed to call today
i dialed your number
and i knew there would be no answer
but today
all i heard was an automated voice message
now all i think about is what happened to you
this was a draft, but today the phone didn´t even ring
and i feel so lost
what happened to your phone
what happened to you
will i ever see you again
what am i supposed to do now
why do i still miss you
 285° 
shatteredpoet
if i am the artist
you are a collage
of all the things
i love the most
 273° 
m lang
we grow wiser with age.
so teach me-
reveal to me your knowledge.
three hundred rings my elder,
what have you seen?
what have you heard?
you stand strong
through all you’ve experienced.
teach me to stand the same.

speak to me,
i'm listening.
speaking to the trees
 245° 
michael cera
my mind takes me,
like water in current,
so i grip your name,
to my soul, I will stir it.
lost to thoughts like maybe:
maybe large as a lake,
sometimes spread like the sea,
but your heart is my buoy,
and i call you, my baby.
 193° 
Psychotic Harmony
~
"The most important part, is the part that hurts"




~John Green
This quote just hit home

Book recommended: Turtles All the Way Down.
 189° 
Hector
~

Ser tuyo, quisiera

ser briza en la playa

besando tus labios, quisiera

ser sombra en la arena

siguiendo tus pasos, quisiera

ser luna en tus ojos

y en tu cielo estrellas, quisiera

un suspiro en tu boca,

y ser todo, quisiera-


-
H.O
April  2019
Be yours, I would like
on the beach to be a breeze
and kiss your lips, I would like
to be a shadow on the sand
by your footsteps, I would like
to be a moon in your eyes
and the stars on your sky, I would like
to be a sigh in your mouth
and be all, I would like-
 183° 
Jeremy
I’m tired of all back and forth politics
It makes me sick
Like spring
When the pollen hits
Words get manipulated
Bend like contortionist
How unfortunate
That we speak the same language
But entirely different dialects
This is not a test
And if it was
The answer wouldn’t be no or yes
Fill in the blanks
To what you think is best
No wrong answer
So you try to guess
No wrong answer
But your Incorrect
 165° 
Ophelia
Each year
We get a little older
Some might
"More mature"
"More grown"
"Bigger"
But that's not it
We celebrate so much now
This day seems normal
The biggest day of our lives
Our Birthdays
Seem normal
We party to much
and care too little
We celebrate
getting closer to death
almost meeting death
and finally
meeting death
So much celebration for one day
Today's my birthday so as I thought about the meaning of birthdays I came up with this, sorry its a bit sloppy but its a quick free write. Hope ya'll enjoy it!
 165° 
bk
If our souls met long before we did,
then they must have known
that we would fall apart
before we did.

B.K.
It just doesn't add up.
 162° 
Esmé
Gravity
Bringing me back down to earth.
Gravity
Knows that love makes you float.
Gravity
Says “no, not this time.”
 154° 
Lexilcon Condranax
Another page fades
Another face aged
Over and under, again and beyond
In time we wither, till we are gone
And unto the meadows, dead with a song
It shall not be long, until we are done.

"They all love, as they dig my grave
They find love, as they dig my grave
We find love, as they dig my grave
As they dig my grave away"

In time, even ashes dissapear.

April 23 2019
May your grave grow deeper still
Nobody, will be there to mourn us
Just the black screen, of game over
And never again, shall we be

all our life, memories, thoughts, dreams, actions
Erased for eternity, not even time will remember us
 135° 
ashley
i owe myself
an apology
for who i used to be
and a promise
for what i will become
 120° 
Celaena
Its called soul searching
But cant find it somewhere
I could feel my heartbeat tho
 113° 
nsp
After months of sleeping next to you, today I woke up, rolled over to see your face, and was __.

a) in love
b) complete
c) nervous
d) alone
e) all of the above
 107° 
Richard Graydon
Life is beautiful, yet the rain  cries
A man fled and hid under those skies

Running from what he had done wrong
Escaping while the night were long

Shelter appeared under a tree
While time forced life to come and be

Expectations slowed while my blood flowed
Rain poured while the raven  crowed

But it didn’t stop while I was under
The safety of your umbrella
I take a lot of my inspiration from other artist in different medias and this came from a video produced by Jack Stauber on instagram.
 100° 
md-writer
We're dancing on a
knife's edge,
you and I.
You know it - I can see
the sparkle in your eye.

But do we care? I suppose
there's somewhere deep
down in
where mind sits at its desk
and all the glaring danger signs
flash red.
But on the surface, there's a
bit of gold in knowing
where we stand
for now,
and being free to dance the line
with comfort in your friendship yet
excited
all the same.

We know where we stand:
it's not together,
so we're free to tap the
dance floor lightly
and
smile into the night,
because our words are sparring
in -
well, let's say they
might have crossed the line.

But just our words.
We two?
We're standing side by side
(this side of the line)
and laughing at them,
pointing out the silliness
yet somehow still content
to stay and watch them
anyway
for lingered moments that speak
more deeply
than the words themselves could ever do.
 98° 
Lyn-Purcell


Your soul is the moon after dawn
A vapour who sings of love as well as pain
A delicate blossom that twirls with zephyrs
Fragrant and enriched by the snow's kiss
The geese have fled from iced lakes
long preserved with whispers of old
In the shade of bamboo, my flute is heard,
carried to you by the frost-kissed air
Your soul, a vapour, the moon after dawn
Hear my hymn of peace,
till winters turn to fawn


My head's still in the clouds! ^-^
I'm trying SO HARD not to freak out about my media course interview...
Lyn ***
 81° 
Grace Spellman
hey you
we haven't really talked
in a while
which is funny because
i've memorized every inch of your profile
the softness of your deep eyes
that you hate so much
that i sometimes hate too
lately i just feel so far away from you
pull and tug
tug and pull
why won't you just let me
make your heart full?

on and off as we are, you're the only one i'll ever want. ****** loyal for you bby.
 77° 
Emeka Mokeme
Beauty,
such as
weathering keeps
all things clearly
in sight as
every flower blooms.
Yellow
chrysanthemums
are in full bloom
displaying their beauty
with other flowers.
The season just
began,
so bright and
beautiful with the
birds chirping away.
Their songs of
praise heard in
our yard garden.
The beautiful morning
sun is out,
already shining,
as if smiling
down with greetings.
Watching the flowers
opening up to
greet the day
with love is
amazing and awesome.
I stood in
sublime solemnity,
awe and reverence
to welcome the
new dawn emerged.
The sky is
subtly infused with
so much energy
you can
actually feel it.
And the trees
also wants to
stay still but
the wind will
not let it.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
 67° 
Kieran Messer
Her hair is dyed green,
But my mind doesn't say
"Go."
 66° 
Ashly Kocher
It’s starts with a dream....
...ends in reality...
 65° 
Tharuki
I'm stuck between the
past and the future.
memories and dreams
life and death.
 60° 
irises
someday it will
come again.
someday someone
will come in.

a star
with the deepest depths in the eyes
with the gentlest of breaths
and endless soul in the smile

one day
i'll forgive this pain
not forget -
forgive.
we are all destined to love again, i am sure
 59° 
Hg
wri
ting is
threading
your           life
thro             ugh
a ne           edle
and         if
you sew
secrets
you'll
get
po
ke
d
a
l
i
t
t
l
e
.
©Hg
 59° 
Elizabeth Zenk
tell me i’m crazy,
so i can feel sane.
 57° 
sofie
their wings were ready
and i know you were not
but remember they've built a home
right within your burning heart
 57° 
Laura Duran
I wish I were made of stone
So your words would never hurt me
I wish I were cold as ice
Then maybe I wouldn't be lonely

I wish I were made of steel
So my strength would never waver
If only I could turn back the clock
To a time when I felt safer

But I'm only flesh and bone
And your words have left me bleeding
My heart is torn apart
It's a wonder it's still beating

You made up your mind
Given me your final answer
What we shared is in the past
Time to write a brand new chapter

I will fix my broken heart
Some how glue it back together
It may never be the same
It'll bare this scar forever

But I'll be strong, I'll be alright
Though I'm not as hard as steel
And I can't turn back the clock
In time....my heart will heal
 51° 
Ian
Dreamy thoughts of the future meander,
Leaving a desire, dare say a fire raging within,
Endeavor to never allow the present the power,
To capture, and smother what presses valiantly forward.

Despite the dreary realities lying before me,
What comes beyond is the enticing peak of the journey,
A bastion of becoming what is so desperately sought,
The person I've endeavored to be.
You be the sky above,
I'll be the earth below,
And everything in between
Will where our love will grow.
 50° 
David Blaikie
Little sparks
can ignite
Roaring fires

One drop
Can flood
A valley

Small words
Can form
Big ideas

Best friends
Can make
The difference

Tiny acts
Can start
revolutions

One kiss
Can change
Your world
 48° 
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.
 48° 
Jennifer
‘are you lonely?’
my reflection asks,
her fingertips touching mine.
‘no,’ i smile

‘i have you.’
maybe my own company isn’t so bad after all.
 47° 
Kai
Do you not look at the moon
and love it for the way it reflects the sun
and think it beautiful regardless of the craters and scars

The night is not seen in darkness
but in the moonlight
I was reading The Dark Below and read a really sweet line about loving someone even with their disfigurement so I wrote this.
 47° 
Eléa
And what if your clipped nails meant nothing so
Much as your fear for not looking a the pavement
Beaming petals into the grey medium between us

And what if you knew that your yellow pants
Your hands inserted halfway inside of them
Missed for insecurity the breeze that could figure
Its way between them

And create a ****** that sounds like the
First rain in autumn, or your grandmas resentment
Mingled with the twinging pain of love
Her insistent love for you, little boy

Little boy with the yellow pants,
That could be yellow leaves
That could crinkle like a smile that
Finds irony in point, in every
Green and flashing cross
 45° 
Gulishta
A perfect poem...
   Is it the one that's well written,
Or the one having a greater meaning.?
   Is it the one with perfect verses,
Or required a perfect rhyming?
   Is it the one that speaks to all,
Or the one having hidden mysteries?
   Is it the one that let you vent,
Or the one with you wouldn't deal?
   Is it the one that opens wounds,
Or the one that makes you heal?
    Is it the one that came out of a chaos,
Or the one describing the peace?
    Is it the one that told the tale of the chains,
Or the one giving you freedom wings?
    Is it the one about the Prince charming,
Or the one exercising the demons?
    Is it the one describing the vast beauty of the nature,
Or the one about havoc of disaster?
     Is it the one that makes you smile,
Or the one that bring tears in the eyes?
     Is it the one that's written with the ink,
Or the one that bled through it all?

I'll say perfect is overrated. ..
  A poem is what that smooths an ache within the soul you never knew existed.
Just being able to pen down the thoughts gives an immense joy that you can't buy anywhere in this world.
And being brave enough to put it out there to be judged and commented that itself is a perfect poetry!!.
 44° 
Bus Poet Stop
~for those who will read this and weep~

the quiet ones,
the silent Job ones,
who quote not from the
Book of Lamentations,
but author their own,
based on-the-Job experience

localized versions of cryptic elegiacs
accepting the wooden crosses borne,
stepping up to the
unrequested unforeseen,
then buried under, burnt alive,
yet never relieved by dying,
nailed by words, stronger than iron,
promises sworn, promises kept
with no ending date relief,
promises by and to themselves,
but not for themselves!


the wearers of crystal glass shackles,
adorned with decorative locks for which
no key did the maker make,
nor any divine creator
dare conceive an early release,
never no escape contemplated,
for the lock human, unrepentant unbreakable,
a decorative useless metaphor gesture,
a blunt “life *****” advertisement

I compose amidst a
bus pond of mismatched city folk,
a tapestry of ages colors and differing views on god/no god,
none would believe that as the bus sways me,
it’s in rhythm to holy choral music,
hundreds year old,
divinity masses and motets worships,
where one human can hide temporarily
a safe house,
to calm his questioning relentless
from the horrors of no answers,
for when the mind has no solution
to the rough and tumbling lives,
lived in glass shackled confinement,
the poets desperation equals theirs


summon eagles to transport these imprisoned,
but the shackled refuse,
I come to them but they wave me off,
I go crazy for once I was enslaved,
thirty years war that left devastation,
from which so many poems created

so I speak with heightened regard
of one who planned futures for others where his
non-existence was a founding father (ha!)


but the day came and
I was released by my own inactions,
but means nothing until a way to
away found
to release the yet bound early


got a couch, airline miles, hundred dollars
in my pocket and an unrelenting need
to save them, a consumption disease,
the glass shackled, at ease,
won’t rest till all are freed
this my creed
no one left behind

these cyber words do not mock
for they are unbounded, set free,
when
the flesh connects and the needs of the flesh
are stronger for they are in heart conceived
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