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 948° 
Jay Jelly
Asunder
Birds of prey
Hard headed
Gravity
Incomplete story
In need of my
Sweet salvation
I can’t walk
On water
Wishful thinking
Out loud
Ringing the bell
Twelve rounds are up
Spiraling out
Of control
My crutch can’t withstand
The pressure
Like a stick of dynamite
Exploding daily
Fountain of youth
I’ll pass
I’d never wanna relive
All the unbearable moments here
I’ll never drink from the cup
Because I’ve seen more
Then enough of all this
So called life
For a thousand lifetimes in vain
Dead weight free falling
Into flames
Like a bomb
Falling from the sky
Catastrophic damage up next
Would you shield me from
Thee explosion
Before I fall  
To my demise  
Parachute open up your
Door to me eternally yours
I will be forever in your debt
 736° 
Let et Scar
Memories, that is all I have left,
Candid memories ever fleeting day by day,
I tried to preserve them,
Keep them sweet like marmalade,
I try to keep them,
I don't want them to fade,
But with time the corners curl up like a photograph,
And with time nothing is tangible only digital,
It's hard to hold on to things you can't feel in your hands,
It's hard to see them,
When it's not everyday,
Memories, that is all I have left,
I try to keep them..
Fresh like that pine tree freshener that swings from my car mirror,
I try to hold onto the ring of your laughter,
I try to remember the tenderness in your eyes when you gazed upon mine,
Now just a memory fading with time,
They are just memories sweeping in and out with the tides,
I try to keep pictures the only snapshots left of our former lives,
I try to look at them and imagine them come to life,
But these memories with time are fading like the colors in my hair,
All these memories bittersweet like the tattoos I bare,
They are beautiful but they sting with the air,
All these memories I keep them trapped locked in a box
 633° 
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
I feel the heartache of humanity.
I cry with starving children,
I hold them til they die.
Brown and black and broken
people, lying in forgotten places,
winding winds blowing through
my heart, tears soaking my soul,
darkness falling into my arms,
bitter, not better, tastes
of hopeless people,
their gardens lost in sandy hills,
killing, not caring, no hope in the sky,
dying by the millions, my friends
saying goodbye, my friends
saying goodbye.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
 420° 
Left Foot Poet
“We’ve engineered the world for comfort and ease. Most people rarely step outside of their comfort zones these days—we’re living progressively soft, sterile, temperature-controlled, overfed, under-challenged, safety-netted lives1. And it’s slowly limiting the degree to which we experience our, as the poet Mary Oliver put it, “one wild and precious life.””
Michael Easter, Substack

<>><<>

five months have expired
from when this notion
1st caught my notice
but fallow lay,
unattended, unremarked
unforgiving

of my ignorance and inattention

but it freshly, rightly,
core challenges me

guilty of the underbelly softness
so well described,
I
choose to scribe,
wrestle with angel and devil,
two~on~one human,
and yet, still a
fair fight

"wild and precious!"

how rarely we employ these
adjectives,
that conjure the edginess of an
existence

lest you think,
that we are here to implore, urge,
skydiving, remote wilderness trekking, or other physical states
that set adrenaline on fire,
I am not
afterthat for them

oh, my
wild and precious
is far more treacherous and enthralling

what I beg you to embrace is
no farther than
nubs, knobs and stubbled nibs of your fingers,
the taste buds flowering invisible
on the wily, twisty tongue,
the  tiny-vibrating little hairs of your nostril,
two extra large  eggy pupils of your two eyes,
here lies danger,
your customized throbbing throbbing your drumming,
leadings
access to the garden of
The truly wild and precious,

the poems you will scribe,
from the safety of your captains chair,,
Throwing caution to the wind compose and depose yourself with bitter questioning,
For which the answered answers must be truly be
wild and precious

  cyan sighs,
oaken cries,
furious colorless invasive tears,
steely stabbing personal truths,

yes those wild ones,
in your. chest close held,
spill them like cold coffee,
surrender the precious, and
inward confess your
shame, gains  and the relit
that you are not merely
wild and precious
but a sea borne sailor,
a navy voyaging to
to where
danger enthralls
enlivens!
Commenced Feb 9 2025
Completed June 19 3025
 414° 
S
-
Constantly
chasing
a
high
that
no
longer
feels
good
 408° 
Scarlet McCall
A night at the Museum,
and we're dressed to ****.
The mood is gleeful–
and the people, chill.
All court the kings and queens of shill.

Our ****** deeds are whitewashed clean.
Our grievous crimes are left unseen–
sanitized versions on the tv screen.

But our steps were tracked with care
by one who could no longer bear
the growing horror, the scenes from there.
The cry of anguish, the dead-eyed stare.

Now the blood drips on our shoes.
Our deaths headline the evening news.
Yet still, the truth has only views
on internet sites with volunteer crews.

When there is no other way
Desperation will have its day
If you really want to see what's going on in Gaza, you have to go to sites such as Reddit and look at the World news subreddits. Then you'll understand.
 291° 
lyla
i have a sadness lurking in me
the base of every poem i write
the core of my love
as i give myself papercuts
from your letters
and your poems
and i sit quietly
in the shadow
of your starlight.
 288° 
JRF
You
You

I love you
Forever and always

I try so hard
To understand.  

Sometimes we are so aligned
and other times so maligned.

You have hurt me
So many times

These last few years
But I forgive
I give you

hell and
Another chance
To come back to me
To come back

To love.

And I’ll keep doing it
until you find your way

Back to me.
 226° 
Her
i met you almost
two years ago
i hurt you
while scrambling
through my own pain
trying to find my way
through a dark maze
with a haze of ache

you got caught
in my rage of
a crossfire
i realized
i actually liked someone
trusted them so easily

i was angry
someone actually
made me laugh
made me smile

the hurricane
was a category five
you took shelter
far away from me
my tears dripping
from the sky

two years after
the hurricane
we are just recovering
there is life again
there is growth
there is laughter
there is happiness
there is light


there is a second chance
Miré ligera Nave,
Que con alas de lino en presto vuelo
Por el aire süave
Iba segura del rigor del Cielo,
Y de tormenta grave.
En los Golfos del Mar el Sol nadaba
Y en sus ondas temblaba;
Y ella, preñada de riquezas sumas,
Rompiendo sus cristales,
Le argentaba de espumas,
Cuando en furor iguales,
En sus velas los vientos se entregaron.
Y dando en un bajío,
Sus leños desató su mismo brío,
Que de escarmientos todo el Mar poblaron,
Dejando de su pérdida en memoria
Rotas jarcias, parleras de su historia.
En un hermoso prado
Verde Laurel reinaba presumido,
De pájaros poblado
Que, cantando, robaban el sentido
Al Argos del cuidado.
De verse con su adorno tan galana
La Tierra estaba ufana,
Y en aura blanda la adulaba el viento,
Cuando una nube fría
Hurtó en breve momento
A mis ojos el día;
Y arrojando del seno un duro rayo,
Tocó la Planta bella
Y juntamente derribó con ella
Toda la gala, Primavera y Mayo.
Quedó el suelo de verde honor robado,
Y vio en cenizas su soberbia el prado.
Vi, con pródiga vena
De parlero cristal, un Arroyuelo
Jugando con la arena,
Y enamorando de su risa al Cielo.
A la margen amena,
Una vez murmurando, otra corriendo,
Estaba entreteniendo;
Espejo guarnecido de esmeralda
Me pareció, al miralle,
Del prado, la guirnalda,
Mas abrióse en el valle
Una envidiosa cueva de repente;
Enmudeció el Arroyo,
Creció la oscuridad del ***** hoyo,
Y sepultó recién nacida fuente,
Cuya corriente breve restauraron
Ojos, que de piadosos la lloraron.
Un pintado Jilguero,
Más ramillete que ave parecía;
Con pico lisonjero
Cantor del Alba, que despierta al día;
Dulce cuanto parlero
Su libertad alegre celebraba,
Y la paz que gozaba,
Cuando en un verde y apacible ramo,
Codicioso de sombra,
Que sobre varia alfombra
Le prometió un reclamo,
Manchadas con la liga vi sus galas;
Y de enemigos brazos
En largas redes, en nudosos lazos,
Presa la ligereza de sus alas,
Mudando el dulce, no aprendido canto,
En lastimero son, en triste llanto.
Nave tomó ya puerto;
Laurel se ve en el Cielo trasplantado,
Y de él teje corona;
Fuente, hoy más pura, a la de Gracia corre
Desde aqueste desierto;
Y pájaro, con tono regalado,
Serafín pisa ya la mejor zona,
Sin que tan alto nido nadie borre.
Así que el que a don Luis llora no sabe
Que, Pájaro, Laurel y Fuente y Nave
Tiene en el Cielo, donde fue escogido,
Flores y Curso largo y Puerto y Nido.
 204° 
bleedingink
we are all made of stars
cast down from the heavens
and turned into
a form we can recognize.

perhaps
we are not all made for a life
on this planet
and should have stayed with the stars.

maybe that is why
some of us look for a way
back to the stars
because we were not made
for this.
 171° 
Nolan Bucsis
The matter said to the math,
I change,
and so do you.

As the ego said to the spirit,
My will shapes your tint,
I control,
You obey.

Anatman?
No self?

No,
Self,
Is supreme.

Nix,
The demon buddha,
Of Naraka.

When the Assura,
Ascended over virtue,
By virtue,
Of existing.

Reality is not light and transcendent,
It is vile ugly truth,
I am I?

Well,
Certainly not me.
 171° 
silvervi
I treat myself with a little more respect each day.
It's like stretching a muscle, a little more goes a long way. And consistency is key. Even if it's way out of the comfort zone, today I'd like to encourage you to take an act of respect and kindness towards yourself. It may be washing the dishes right after you ate, taking a bit longer outside just to breath or picking up some routine you've been neglecting lately. Whatever it is, you deserve the effort and time to make yourself feel good, seen and respected.
 170° 
Smita
Life is a never-ending battle.
Somewhere, you need to settle.
Through storms, you never rattle —
Deep inside, you may be a soft petal.
To the world, you are a shiny metal.

Princess, you owe your dreams;
Fulfill all your cherished desires.
No matter how hard it seems,
Keep walking through the burning fires.

One day, for sure, you will achieve
Whatever you now perceive.
The gift your steady steps shall receive,
And all your worries will take their leave. ✨✨

@ Smita writes
 168° 
Maanvinder Pilania
he is not cut out to live with all of this-
to live while bearing the scars
countless of spears in his chest
yet still breathing
blood all over the floor, returned defeated
every time he went on the war
with a hope that someday a savior will arrive
bearing a sign of peace and not bruises from a father
This poem is part of my Valleys to Jump Into poetry series.
 167° 
Emmanuel
Y si te voy a extrañar? Cuando me falta tu tacto, tu respiración cerca mío que me desorienta y yo cediendo mi voluntad hacia ti. Como no te voy a querer? Si cada suspiro grita tu nombre, cada verso te describe a la perfección tal y como las estrellas se alinean por ti.

En cuantos idiomas aprendería a decir que te amo, porque expandes mis pupilas al pensarte, tal cual la expansión del mismo universo, uno en el que solo existes tú, uno en el que mi mundo tiene tu nombre y 2 galaxias que llevas por ojos.

Es que hay palabras que no bastan, por eso…

Et si Je t'aime? Más de lo que los idiomas expresan con sus letras Ma Jolie.
Se ti amo? Hasta que mis huesos se conviertan en polvo estelar La Mía Vita.
I truly love you? Te presto mis ojos para que veas la belleza del arte en el que te conviertes My Heart.

Y si te pierdo? Si nuestro universo decide colapsar y las estrellas dejan de brillar por nosotros, las cenizas de mi corazón no dejarán de deletrear tu nombre en cada idioma que aprendí por ti.

Porque aunque los idiomas no existan más y las palabras polvo se hagan, mi amor por ti quedará grabado en el lenguaje de nuestras estrellas.
My love for you is the reason that I understand you.
 141° 
Octavio Paz
A la luz cenicienta del recuerdo
que quiere redimir lo ya vivido
arde el ayer fantasma. ¿Yo soy ese
que baila al pie del árbol y delira
con nubes que son cuerpos que son olas,
con cuerpos que son nubes que son playas?
¿Soy el que toca el agua y canta el agua,
la nube y vuela, el árbol y echa hojas,
un cuerpo y se despierta y le contesta?
Arde el tiempo fantasma:
arde el ayer, el hoy se quema y el mañana.
Todo lo que soñé dura un minuto
y es un minuto todo lo vivido.
Pero no importan siglos o minutos:
también el tiempo de la estrella es tiempo,
gota de sangre o fuego: parpadeo.
Roza mi frente con sus manos frías
el río del pasado y sus memorias
huyen bajo mis párpados de piedra.
No se detiene nunca su carrera
y yo, desde mí mismo, lo despido.
¿Huye de mí el pasado?
¿Huyo con él y aquel que lo despide
es una sombra que me finge, hueca?
Quizá no es él quien huye: yo me alejo
y él no me sigue, ajeno, consumado.
Aquel que fui se queda en la ribera.
No me recuerda nunca ni me busca,
no me contempla ni despide:
contempla, busca a otro fugitivo.
Pero tampoco el otro lo recuerda.
No hay  antes ni después. ¿Lo que viví
lo estoy viviendo todavía?
¡Lo que viví! ¿Fui acaso? Todo fluye:
lo que viví lo estoy muriendo todavía.
No tiene fin el tiempo: finge labios,
minutos, muerte, cielos, finge infiernos,
puertas que dan a nada y nadie cruza.
No hay fin, ni paraíso, ni domingo.
No nos espera Dios al fin de semana.
Duerme, no lo despiertan nuestros gritos.
Sólo el silencio lo despierta.
Cuando se calle todo y ya no canten
la sangre, los relojes, las estrellas,
Dios abrirá los ojos
y al reino de su nada volveremos.
 128° 
Damocles
Do you want to see the sunrise over the sky
Like tangerine orange splashed against a sea of peach and lilac?
Well I know a place where we can watch the moon flirt with the daylight
Just take my hand, and I’ll guide you through a wonderland

Where we can see the stars,
Bloom from the verdant stems
Pink and white spread wide,
And we can touch the petals of its points
Feel the dew drops hydrate your fingertips
Once we go through the thick of this

Watch the peonies open their bloom
Fluffy maroon and white beds for bees
As they sit so beautifully,
Ants resting on the eaves of leaves
Pleased by their workmanship to please
Eager eyes in your gasping maw
So surprised, to see this in awe
Well I surmise, you’ll love the way that the colors gleam.

Here where dahlias dance
To the very brisk of a morning breeze
Perfect symmetry blossomed in telemetry
We can count the layers, lost in a labyrinth
Amazed by the scent carried by a zephyr
Ticking the senses, and yet there’s more to the journey
As hydrangeas in blue and pink flourish,
Bush cover for arboreal critters,
Grasping seed and nuts to scurry off into the umbra.

But nothing brings me clarity
Nothing screams sincerity
Quite like the tea leaf rarity,
Of the conclave of peach colors swirling
Timeless in a capsule of a lover’s first gift
A painted, watercolor masterpiece,
Pink layers over yellow, and white,
Shades of coral and purple highlight the light
It’s in this decadence I could eat the petals
And in recompense maybe I’ll bloom as pretty too
As we end our morning glory
Under the thorn-capped bushel
Of roses, ala peach swirls.
Peach Swirl roses are just stunning to look at. I wanted to write something fun and hopeful, about the love of nature and how I feel every morning walking through my flower portion of my garden.
 122° 
Maddy
Soft Rock Music
Old and New
No social media
Fan or Air conditioning on
Cold drinks standng by in great Thermos
Phones silenced
Hugs that go into the night
Amazing and loving moments
Easy and gentle
 116° 
B
I’ll flush the blood
Down the drain
So the only known
Will be in my brain
It doesn’t hurt
To run my fingers
Down the lines
Of red like wines
I love the pain
But I know that
The know of it
Will make me splat
 114° 
Richly Ivory-Coate
Intended no,
no, no,
In the rhyme,
In the win
 98° 
Caroline Shank
Reunion

One bright day, in the middle
Of July two great loves
Got up

to Fight.

There were no more

Kisses.

One Great Love waited
while the other
Spit on his hands
      And went back to work.

It's the heat that makes me

Crazy.

I am fertilized with the
salt of years.  


I

Sadness has

Accomplish

So long ago a time.

That time has scratched

you

like a tattoo

onto the outline of my
body..

I remain in my old age

Yours to do
With me some
things

Where there is little time
for hand candy

Or

Tears.


Caroline Shank


,
 97° 
Nobody
kid
i wish i could go back in time
and see my younger self
and warn him
that it would only get worse
im relapsing with depression again. i miss how it used to be
 92° 
Katie Stenner
someone told me I can't be broken because we were never we.
you were never mine,
I was never yours.

I payed so much attention to what we could be
over what we were,
and now we're nothing.

its like we never laughed together
played together
sang together
or just simply sat together.

we had a together but we were never together.
we had something but now we're nothing.
we were never we.

I hurt.
not because the pain of your absence,
but the pain of what could have been.
another late night poem
 91° 
Ted
Godly Eyes : Part 3 of 10

My dreams,
are followed
by nightmares,
after realms
of silently
the peace,
is swallowed
Mark is bared,
And believed
is my fantasy
of  consciously
the stale bread,
the memories
My refusion,
How they taught
not my belief,
shaken salt
into the sea
negatively,
It needed
none of thirst,
scars bleeding
and the wisdom
to come is worse,
A blister bursts.
Oh me, oh fear,
into the ocean,
and rusted gears
and now and here,
a gravely near,
a stuck machine,
of water bubbles,
near buried
of such tunnels.
Gotta work on this, I think I almost have it clicked.
 90° 
Robin Edwards
In the brilliant dawn
The bold streak of your red hair
Slides across my eyes
 83° 
DarkSkyesRising
There's something in the air
That makes me feel like I've been here before
The birds chirping
The sun disappearing and reappearing behind fluffy white clouds
The soft breeze
The heat
I've lived this summer before
Maybe in a different universe,
Another life time,
Or a dream...

Maybe I'm still asleep
 82° 
apricot
GIR
You let the wrong people love you
when you cry you need my comfort
I drop everything to come over
Don't bite your lip or grit your teeth
Just count to ten and try to breath
The perfect one for you is me
its so hard liking a straight girl you can't have. :(
 80° 
Yonah Jeong
sound of Siren
lightly
far, far away
spreading out
and approaching
polite call of Raspberry.
let
let
the geese
go short shadow south

let
the leaves
release into wreckage

let
the light
gloam red orange

let
a pulse
flutter silent
 78° 
Dr Peter Lim
I
you
they
and life-

the inseparable quartet
we are

in our being together :
every day
our drama
is played
 71° 
anuj
I was made to be on top by God,
But I became a tool that only nods.
I see myself — I know I’m better,
But I can’t control it… and that’s what’s bitter.

I want to live as my true self,
But became someone who hides from himself.
I knew I needed a pause, a break,
But they yelled, “Stop? For God's sake?”

So I paused… and quietly broke.
Now I can’t hit back — I’m sinking slow.
In a lake of silence, deep and wide,
I watch the real me — float outside.
This is for the version of me that never got the chance to grow. I didn’t fall behind — I just wasn’t allowed to catch up.
 70° 
Hot Fire
You picked me like a flower
harmless, beautiful and trusting.

said I was special.

then tossed me aside for another.

Was betrayal always part
of your touch?
short ig, didn't rlly cooked
Every time I had to tell her goodbye
It hurt
It hurts to see the person you love leave
It would have hurt even more
Had I known it was the last time
It was the last time we hugged
It was the last time we lied together
It was the last time I kissed her cheek

Since then, goodbyes hurt even more
It hurts even more
To know that it may be the last time
I see someone the way I saw her
The way she saw me

Or maybe she stopped seeing me
The way I saw her
A long time ago?
Doesn't matter now

I hate saying goodbye
But one day I will have to
And I hope that one day
That one sunny day
Will not hurt as much as I think
 64° 
ebonymarie93
Therapy never works
Freeversing is cathartic
And better than screaming into the abyss
If someone can relate and feel less alone to what I express/write
Then I too feel less alone
More understood
Instead of misunderstood
For a change
If that makes sense
 63° 
Awnaeji
I fell in love with all you are
Not just the light but every scar
The quiet truths you couldn’t share
I saw them still I deeply cared.

Your heart spoke softly though lips stayed still
A gentle pull I couldn’t will
You hid a part afraid I’d flee
But even then you had all of me.

Trust me when I say it’s true
I’ve loved you long before I knew
Before the world before the name
My love for you still burned the same.

And if your secret held you tight
I held you closer through the night
Because real love, it sees right through
And I was always seeing you.
I want this poem to speaks of quiet devotion, seeing through silence, and choosing love even when the truth is hidden. Dear I knew, even if you couldn’t say it. And still truly I loved you. All of you. The hidden parts, the fear, the truth. You never had to hide from me. I wish you knew.
One day
You will notice me
And everything
Or nothing could be
Either way
It’d still be sweet
You’re missing out on
Just as much as me
 60° 
nivek
used to have yellowed fingers
stinking of nicotine

that drug had me hooked at age fifteen
-all the way to fifty three.
 56° 
Liana
Loneliness is a record player
Sitting in an attic
With no record

It is when you look into life’s mirror
And see you’re not alone
You see the monster of your mind creeping up behind you
Whispering loud enough that only you can hear

Loneliness is the loudest silent scream of them all
Yet no one can hear how loud you feel it
Through any bathroom stall
 55° 
Lukas Buijs
tell me, when it's here:
will they pray at church's rear,
or flee to what feels safe—
the things that consume us gracefully?

i'm sure he's been waiting patiently.
for what has a God to lose,
when his creations, full of *****,
create and copy easily?

yet he won't strike with fire,
nor challenge rising blasphemy.

let all roam with desire,
since God has nothing to lose.
i'm growing up in a religious household, and i'm intrigued by my parents' perspective on Artificial intelligence, and all the wars going on. They assume it's all part of a huge holy war. even though i doubt God's existence heavily, i like to think of him as someone who is tired of all our *******. Especially in times like this.
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