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Robert Rittel
The flower of life

Satin purple, sunny yellow, blood red sane,
sky bright blue, overflowing moonlight stain.
Sensuous dew drenched foliage,
geometric fields of repeating dosage.
Harmony and proportion in perfect form,
sacred pattern of space and time as norm.
Universal law of interconnectedness,
visual and scented life beings reflect ness.
Secret symbols far back to Osiris,
healing frequencies applied with Jairus.
Serenely lingering like bath of peddle flow,
quivering tangerine pursed lips in blow.
Coordinated death blades in slide curled,
tapestry fountain exited amorous world.
Answers in vortex of our senses paralyze,
moments in gaze towards paradise.
In this constant state
Of hollow emptiness
I long.....
For a messy chaos.
today the pain is not in breaking
that would suggest some fantastic noise
or cavernous fracture
today is subtle, barely visible to the naked eye
it's a quiet decay
unremarkable in its erasure of humanity
withering away
and that emptiness becomes a new kind of identity
this is all that remains
Time is of the essence,
Blessings in every second,
Ascensions to Dimensions,
Feels like I’m in heaven.
Eshwara Prasad
Just as a Turtle pulls back it's
Head and limbs into the shell, when at serious risk

You also pull back your sense organs from  the deadly fascination of wordly objects
Qualyxian Quest
And the Tree of Souls

Broken tolls

Fantasy and Science Fiction
Silences and benedictions

History: Nightmare story
Mythology: story glory

We watch. We wait. We dream by night.
If we dream by day: Mystic flight?
Nagalakshmi kp
Deep blue...
Tranquil and serene...
Covers all the land...
Oliverio Girondo
Lo verde.
Lo apacible.
La llanura.
Las parvas.

Está bien.
¿Pero el humo?
Más que nada,
que todo

el humo
el humo
el humo.
jeffrey conyers
What about this race?
That intimidates that race?
What about seeking fairness?
That makes that race think they have been fair.

But when you in that secluded world?
You secretly try to patronize.
Until that race you fearful of get up and rise.

History have never been good to you.
Documentation exist of your cruelness.
And you're constantly is exposed.
And the truth comes to your secluded world.

Blinders only cover up true reality for a while.
Loving you is like eating pistachios,
I can't stop once I have started!
Hey everyone!  Just got this thought and penned it down. The comparison, though silly puts a smile on my face. I hope it does that to you as well.
Join in lovelies, give your silly comparisons down below.

Here's another one :
Waiting for you is like waiting for pancakes to cook,
It is never soon enough.
Shreya Das
the name,
the date,
and the man's fate.

Whatever unknown, all is certain;
that death shall pull the curtain.
and we
won't just
    but we'll
      thrive till
        we're five
           and make
              peace with
                 our hearts
                     till we're
                                   and my
                                                            will talk
                                                                   to the
                                                                          sky and
                                                                               we'll drift
                                                                                      through the
                                                                                              night till
                                                                                                      we're free
i looked down
twenty three stories

tears in my eyes
legs shaking

every intention
of falling head first

you see— i was just so tired
of having to land
on my feet
so many people
are so tired
of having to be so strong
Rupert Pip
You catch life
one tear at a time
to one day
fill an ocean.
I heard you liked short poems, so here's one for you.
Sarah Munoz
As I rise
The weight of dread shackles me
“Quit worrying,” I tell myself.
My lungs draw in the last safe, dawn air.
I grab my blue face mask and teacher’s badge
As I rise
This can be read as a reverse poem.
luna imagery
Once there was a boy
Who stood in front the mirror
For so long he drowned
He was gasping for air but
No one saw him but himself
Carlo C Gomez
Navigating mercy

An asylum harbor from afar

Here, in the gloaming of your closed

A faint-hearted horizon

And the wide beam sea

Two days out from despair

The written word will capsize
you, Anne

God is in your typewriter
and where the boats so often go
Anne Sexton (November 9, 1928 – October 4, 1974)
I bit my tongue
The harsh hadn't gone.
Wondered if it was my drink
Or if it were the blue tears.
The bitternesses,
Which was keeping me drunk.
The madnesses,
Which was jamming me up.
But all I said was,
'Hi, you want some too?'
It is about my useless feeling in relationships
And the drink was coffee, i swear
hey, it's been a while
I’m addicted to the feel of cold metal sliding across bare flesh
Addicted to the instant
when nothing marks smooth skin
immediately before
red rivers rapidly rise
painting a once white canvas
with a flood of emotion,
tears on my cheeks,
sobs caught in my throat,
numbness replaced by pain & sadness.
Addicted to the imperfection
of red welts and dotted scabs that follow,
fingers drawn like magnets
to the texture of healing skin,
tracing over and over and over now fading ridges
Amazed that I am strong enough
to heal myself over and over and over.
Convincing myself that I am strong enough.
I find strength in my weakness.
6 months self harm free! Writing about it helps fight the urge
Kimma Grates
what a sight it was
to see Death in the field
scrutinizing the daisies and
inspecting springtime's yield.

what a sight it was
to see him stoop down low.
to make a crown of flowers
which then he did bestow.

what a sight it was
to see him hold the hand
of the brightest, kindest, fairest maid
in all this forsaken land.

what a sight it was
to see him lay that crown
upon the hair of gold
so long it brushed the ground.

what a sight it was
to see her smile at him
to see the fairest Locks of Gold
smile at the Reaper Grimm.
I fell in love with candlelight-
in my darkness, she shone so bright.
She danced the breeze, lit up the night,
her glow consumed my very sight.

But wax and wick both burn away,
and candlelight just cannot stay.
As sure as night turns into day,
that fickle flame will go astray.

But for a moment, through the storm,
she lit my world, she kept me warm,
then flickered out, as is the norm
for candlelight, its fleeting form.

I fell in love with candlelight,
for but a moment, all was right.
Her glow, her dance, consumed my sight,
and faded out at end of night.
Thinking about getting a tattoo
But, I take pause...
Looking in the mirror
I see my body’s already covered
Marked in invisible ink
Every inch of my bare skin
Painted with the joy and pain of living
From my heart to my hips
Color faded here, but poppin’ over there
Memories designed by your hands
Others etched on my own
A collection that makes me smile
Among a few pieces I regret
So, about getting a tattoo...
I guess I’m not ready
Because I can’t think of a tattoo
Meaningful enough, yet
To write over any of the life I’ve lived
You are not just the hero within the pages of your own story. You are the vessel of intuition. The growing understanding of self-undiscovered, be it in the conscious or unconscious arena. Competing with all under the sun. You live not to forget or yourself become the great shining deeds by which you may never achieve relics. But to bear witness to the self and its finite attempts to grow steadily alongside the tree of life. And in standing therein, rooted, smile at your own death. Knowing a more practical end awaits you moving.
Though not everyone is aware of it, or even capable of such contemplation. We are all so very different. With our many vice-passions and obsessions.

I am overcome with guilt and desecrated romance
on my very hands.

Tragedy it be;
are that's what
poets are made
of -
reminiscing smithereens
these lost shreds of
time-filled regret
Why does it always feel like
no one's listening
when I talk?
I'm never loud enough..

Even a tortured soul
needs a place to cry.
I’m so glad
That you’re my

स्वयं को भूल रहे हैं।
     रोजगार के लिए
     दर-दर भटक रहे हैं
     रोजगार है कि खुद ही
     बेरोजगार हो रहे हैं
हम अनजानी सी अंधी
दौड़ लगा रहे हैं।

     हमारी आवश्यकताएं
     बकासुर बन गई हैं
     चींटी की तरह
     पंख लगाकर उड़ रही हैं
आशाओं के मार्ग पर
अंधेरे सो रहे हैं।

     पीछे गांव में ना जोत बची
     ना वह संदली भोर है
     शहरों की भीड़ भाड़ में
     पैर रखने को ना ठौर है
इस छोर से उस छोर
बस लाचारी ढो रहे हैं
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
The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do?

It wasn’t letting you go.

That was difficult though, to swallow my pride and wear a smile to hide the fact I’m not okay.

Oh no, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? Was finally admit to myself the truth.

It was admitting that you were never mine to begin with.
It keeps dripping onto me.
No matter where I move.
I seek shelter and yet,
it's still there.
It's not fair.
Rupert Pip
Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.
Get to know me like I do you; inside and out.
Cliff Perkins
A hole in the dirt
Begging one dig deeper
No matter what the cost

Such a joyous word
Laughing as it gives away
What can n’er be lost
Flower C
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
Star Dust
it's just that
people, they disappoint me
you know
i am always longing for an arm that's never there

trying to touch the cracks
i will bleed i know
and i am searching for homes
where I am not bounded to lie my head

i don't want to belong anywhere
and i also want to be in everybody's heart like a dream
but i don't want to feel their cracks
i just want to heal mine

it sounds selfish
but why should i be the one to care?
people i cared for
they never cared for me anyways

people always disappoint me
i don't want to lie in their arms
and make them feel safe
because they are  broken

their sharp edge scars me
always, always
they hurt me
knowing that they are hurting me

but they hurt me anyways
love is too broken
too broken, too broken
and for me, it's never fair
Maria Etre
If I see it
then it is

If I hear it
then it is

If I taste it
then it is

If I read it
then it's
a different
If I see what you see, and they see it too, that doesn't mean I am crazy!
I grasp
Knuckles white
To a rope
That has already promised me
It will never break
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