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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.
He gave me dead flowers
So I can smell them every day
The rotten petals falling
The color of decay

The washed out sunflower
The dehydrated leaves
The mold on the water
The color of debris

The richly red rose
Now drooping to the floor
The color of love
Existed no more

But still I saved the flowers
And smelled them every day
And watered them with tears
To let them grow again.
Michael John

(the death of innocence)
should i?
lily pouts..


she wander about
in her nakedness
a steele pulse..


some yellow and


in her hair-
a new creation
look here!
i believe,
even the stars
get tired.

when the night sky
had folded them away
back into the darkness

and the moon,
that lonesome thing,
has doused itself in shadows.

so will you too, my friend
shy away from the light
as if it would burn
if it reached you.

maybe you feel,
you just are not strong enough
to face the day.

that the midnight hour
is a broken thing

and oh, the silence
is deafening.

and you and i know, even the stars
are tired.

you mourn for them
as their light expires.
when I awaken
I extend my finger
towards a panel of dancing light-

did you know that its veins were torn from a mountain?

a whole hierarchy of angels
living inside the earth
were turned to transistors

so that my letters
could glow in your hands.

when I learned this
I began sleeping beside a stream,

in the places where I could watch
wires dance-

beneath wooden pillars and their flimsy black arms
whispering secrets in permanent embrace.

every night I would dream  
to the forward noise
of churning water;

of fluid drifting through the air unseen
or pouring from life long past-

for the maintenance of symmetry.
I am sorry
I have failed to stay happy
like how you would have wanted me to be.
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)
B D Caissie
The ephemeral beauty of a bloom.
Is cherished because it’s gone too soon.

Petals weaken and colours must fade.
Falling to earth whence it was made.

Light shines upon thee though tears fall like rain.
Find peace for blossoms in heaven forever remain.
Some women belong to the Spring.
They're meant to bloom,
but they were never yours to keep.
Nat Lipstadt
that’s all I know, title, subject undisclosed,
new morn amourning arrives,  when writing~writhing
hunger, comes and remains till fufillment,
sometimes, nagging, sometimes roaring, completion is
the satiation satisfaction when the pouring/
spilling is from within to without, topping off
the nearest receptacle with hugger-muggery,
beauty jumbled, elegantly jagged linen creased

the it of it, must be done, so my heart un-seizes,
breathing to nearly next to normal, yet the distance there
incroyable, inch or mile, meter matters not, until closed it’s a
chasm rupturing,
 fingers grasping my temples, to hold the
jumbled tumbling innards within, redirected towards my
screaming fingertips, hoping, relief will come sooner,
making room until the throat and lungs engorged,
when~with this selfsame need returns
on the morrow
if, when,
my eyes open,
and yesterday itself
is a writ,
a realization accomplished

perhaps, you recognize yourself?
perhaps, you reconcile yourself?
Tue Sep 28 2023
"I liked your smile better
When you were younger,"
She said
I was tempted to ask why
But we both knew.
It's harder to smile now.
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
my favorite poem
I stopped looking
for my other half
in other people
the moment I realized
I was already whole
within myself.
I find no shame
in my solitude
now that alone
I do not feel lonely.
Oh what a privilege,
to have known you.
I will carry a piece of you,
in my heart forever.
Your love is always perfect, it is always real as well.
You have brought me close to some Great poets ever.
In fact I would say the greatest poets that live today.
I appreciate that I can really enjoy their beautiful writes.
So one thing that I am asking you O Saving God tonight.
You are already using them mightily double that portion.
In each of the make their poems twice as beautiful please.
Also make their poems twice as powerful as they were before.
Bless them with doubling their poetry talent in every way now.
JA Perkins
Genuine like a child
Candid like an open book
Exotic like The Wild
Reassuring like a second look
My baby
Poet X
I swear I’m not a love poet but

loving you
makes me scared of dying .

I know what it’s all about now,
I get why the sun rises
and the moon sets.
I understand why the stars shine
and the birds chirp.
I get why the heart beats
and the lungs breathe.

I get it now,
why I’m alive.
loving you is the only thing I feel good at .
Elea Jane
dont worry
(i didnt tell you when to stop)--

fireflies meant a little more to me



just much more at you -- who
minds everything and nothing
at once;

spinning their tails in
feigned surprise
at the way your eyes got circles like theirs
cat-tail night

you know how sparklers
make spirals
bright and dark at the

(one time one
of them
burnt my thumb) --

i remembered for so long
its just

one of those things;

you know

fur becomes branches of
electric light, if you

let it,

if you

practice ::

and i am cold and so,

ask me please if

i want your coat

& of course
& of course
i refuse it,

see: (i only want the fireflies to like me like i
like you too) and

years ago I munch sandwiches in ceremony
to passing clouds:

passing sunlight:

on the bends of the the benches
of corners of streets in towns
who love the taste of
stains of birdshit and
dont know who they are

NO --

what they want


who push villages
against the surface of the
waving countryside

[feilds of grass winking, knowing, something]

and cradle in the middle of them
a rocking and tangled digestion

of homelessness and billboards who

swing against buses with a
a false (it's funny)
sense of precision

of building some


that should be beautiful
in the future


in the meantime
costs so much, my dear

it's made of the
expense i spent

leaning in market stalls;
holes dropping rain from
frayed and striped
circus stall ceiling,
smelling of **** and the colour of
wet tobacco
smudged on the

scars on my


and festering fruits
and flirting and

heels clicking on the pavement which really does twinkle

in sunlight

(erasing whole


if i'm not careful -

for the moments in between
moments i
in dangling, for you

back to front around the
outer edge of the golden ring you wear on your

One day i'll find a Way

with a twist of the cruve of my spine
to turn

a Moebius strip (or the look of one) at least

at least a dent that could be gone in or could be
gone out

in a depth that links and breathes,
as long as we choose to see it

darling -- wait for me
You are my favorite chapter
in the story of my life.
Your page is dog eared
so once I reach the end,
I can revisit you.
Random thought I had. I'm not sure if it's any good.
c a r o l i n e
our eyes could tell stories
my hand well in your cheek
and dreaming would be all too real

if skies were like warm sheets
i’d fall through the clouds still
'cause laying with you is all I need

if i visualise us,
i wouldn't be ready to be living in it
when we ride through the good times
singing by the bonfire
and we'll cry through the bad times
leaving sunsets behind us
i wouldn't be ready to be living in it
even if i visualise
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.
of all the things i regret,
You will never be one of them.
Frank Russell
Agreed, that love is attraction
    - though not only surface sensual,
      as you maintain,
      not only toward the external -
But that sweet involuntary pull is
      also inward for expansion;
      for interior sifting
      and resolution.
Love is primarily attraction to
      unexplored depths
      of the self.

- fr
she: what is it about me?
he: what do you mean?
she: me...?
he: uh...
she: what don't i have?
he: uh...
she: i'm overweight...
he: um...
she: i'm unattractive
he: what?...
she: i'm boring
he: no...
she: i'm dumb
he: uh, well....
she: i give up
he: well, i....
she: nope, that's it, i give up
he: oh, come on...
she: quit trying to talk me out of it
he: i was only...
she: i'm done, good bye
he: wait, what, where are you...
she: have a good life
he: what about dinner?
I read a book that reminded me of you

It reminded me of the days I wished to find a way out
To go through a door that would lead me somewhere else
somewhere better

I never found that door

And you never got better

I wish you had
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about

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
A Poet
Could this be real
That after a year
I fell for you again

Stronger than the first time
Not drunk from wine
But from your cup of tea
Love as broad as the sea

I’m full of happiness and joy
My handsome and charming boy
The bound is stronger
And I adore you more than ever
My lover.
you never know how much
you truly suffer

until you’ve caused your
own sufferings
this feeling is not
symbiotic: you reduce
my core to nothing
at least i am something (ashes) and at least you are happy
i am molded symbiose!
m.b.d forever
‘Aren’t you afraid of my darkness, my dear?’ Hades asked with mischief in his eyes.
‘No.’ Persephone replied, ‘You haven’t seen mine yet.’
Do you know the story about Hades and Persephone?
A M Ryder
How do you
Forgive yourself
For all the things
You never became?
Chelsea Rae
Strange, isn't it?

The way we mourn those
Still living...
I miss you.
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
im still in daze
are you my love story?
or just
another picture to burn?
David P Carroll
It's a scary Halloween night and the evil
Monsters are stalking our streets tonight
And you'll get a horrible
Fright fear is in the air tonight and the crazy
Creatures from hell roam on this Halloween night and our children run with fright so
You better take care or you'll be eaten by the crazy werewolfs or bitten by the blood soacked vampires and the  
Hairy beasts and demons are everywhere tonight so
Don’t look outside the flesh eating
Zombies with their glowing eyes taste blood tonight and the
Skeletons with their missing skins and the ghost's are marching in the graveyard all through this scary and creepy Halloween night.
Halloween Night 🎃🌉🎃
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.
I went out to find
Some value in me,
So I sold what I had
For little a fee.

My eyes for a penny
I sold to some fools,
They're blind and useless,
Mistook for jewels.

My lips for a nickel
To the sweetest sin,
So they'll know the love
That has never been.

My ears for a dime
I sold to a lover.
To hear sweet nothings,
And silence uncover.

My hands for a quarter
I sold to a ghost,
So that she might feel
What I've wanted the most.

Finally my bones for a dollar
I sold to the earth,
But as for my soul-
There was found no worth.
Oskar Erikson
as i went digging through the aisles
looking for my next haphazard meal
looking up from the sickly beige floor
two boys stood there smiling.

Brown floppy hair and freckled faces
the pair of them
greener eyes than the
basket at my feet
all lips and teeth grabbing themselves at the wrists.

to playfight in the pasta section is a pure
display of affection
to grin at another boy crouching down
like something famished
to learn that people can feed you
with nothing but love.
keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­ l                  to is 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.
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