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 776° 
Thomas W Case
Everyday that dawns,
you slip away a little more.
The distant stare,
the apathetic eyes.
Your love is as dead
as the roses in
the trash.
Your heart is an
abyss that I'm
lost in forever.
Belladonna drew me in.
The poison kept me there.
 317° 
Jeffrey
in the most sensational ways
 300° 
Jason James
Facebook
YouTube
Hellopoetry
All the **** I scroll through
While I wait on you.
And I'm tired of all of it.
Get back
Get on
Get it done
Or get gone
I just want another hit.
 268° 
Shaun Yee
Snow Fox, white as snow
Watching giant Polar Bear
Hoping for some fish
haiku
 237° 
Sav
In a world of dreamers,
are you awake or asleep?

In a realm of promises,
which do you keep?

In a land of tomorrows,
when does he beseech?

Within thoughts of conclusion,
does she retreat?

In the be all end all,
why does she screech.

I think we're all dead now,
we weep
we
weep.
 217° 
DENNY R ALLISON
I WISH I COULD WRITE A POEM, SO PROFOUND SO CLEVER,

THAT KNOWING SAGES, WOULD QUOTE IT FOR AGES,

AND MY NAME WOULD LIVE ON FOREVER.
"OOPS" I WASN'T SUPPOSE TO TELL YOU. NOW IT WILL NEVER COME TRUE
 187° 
Ashly Kocher
The scars that are the deepest can’t be seen, but can be felt to the hardest extreme...
 151° 
Eve
Her
I envy Her
For she's the one you like,
the one you love, and the one you want to be with.
It creates a havoc in my mind thinking why it can't be me.
But now I understand why.
Why she's the one and not me.
For She's your melody while I'm just your rhythm.
 96° 
Skylar
From strangers
To lovers,
To Stranger's.
 75° 
Max
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
 67° 
galaxyofentities
I want so little from life
but I want so much
HURRY! FASTER! MORE!
like work is a reward, and sleep punishes the soul.
I wanted so little
and yet somehow
That is all I am now.
 66° 
Adrian
As the gloomish clouds
Silently weep,
The world darkens
And we fall towards sleep.
 52° 
shianne rose
there are two types of sadness

there’s the kind of sadness
we ignore and
try to get rid of it
by finding new things to do
or we find someone to talk to
by blatantly avoiding any type of conversation
about feeling sad
about having any feelings at all
and then there’s that kind of sadness
that takes over
and it consumes any activity we do
we know it’s there
and there’s no possible way to avoid it
so we feed it exactly what it wants
it craves the sad music
it craves the isolation
it craves the anxiousness
and the sadness comes storming in
it has no manners
here we are calling sadness, an “it”
when all it is
is a feeling
that most people
call home
 52° 
Paul Verlaine
Roule, roule ton flot indolent, morne Seine. -

Sur tes ponts qu'environne une vapeur malsaine

Bien des corps ont passé, morts, horribles, pourris,

Dont les âmes avaient pour meurtrier Paris.

Mais tu n'en traînes pas, en tes ondes glacées,

Autant que ton aspect m'inspire de pensées !


Le Tibre a sur ses bords des ruines qui font

Monter le voyageur vers un passé profond,

Et qui, de lierre noir et de lichen couvertes,

Apparaissent, tas gris, parmi les herbes vertes.

Le *** Guadalquivir rit aux blonds orangers

Et reflète, les soirs, des boléros légers,

Le Pactole a son or, le Bosphore a sa rive

Où vient faire son kief l'odalisque lascive.

Le Rhin est un burgrave, et c'est un troubadour

Que le Lignon, et c'est un ruffian que l'Adour.

Le Nil, au bruit plaintif de ses eaux endormies,

Berce de rêves doux le sommeil des momies.

Le grand Meschascébé, fier de ses joncs sacrés,

Charrie augustement ses îlots mordorés,

Et soudain, beau d'éclairs, de fracas et de fastes,

Splendidement s'écroule en Niagaras vastes.

L'Eurotas, où l'essaim des cygnes familiers

Mêle sa grâce blanche au vert mat des lauriers,

Sous son ciel clair que raie un vol de gypaète,

Rhythmique et caressant, chante ainsi qu'un poète.

Enfin, Ganga, parmi les hauts palmiers tremblants

Et les rouges padmas, marche à pas fiers et lents

En appareil royal, tandis qu'au **** la foule

Le long des temples va, hurlant, vivante houle,

Au claquement massif des cymbales de bois,

Et qu'accroupi, filant ses notes de hautbois,

Du saut de l'antilope agile attendant l'heure,

Le tigre jaune au dos rayé s'étire et pleure.

- Toi, Seine, tu n'as rien. Deux quais, et voilà tout,

Deux quais crasseux, semés de l'un à l'autre bout

D'affreux bouquins moisis et d'une foule insigne

Qui fait dans l'eau des ronds et qui pêche à la ligne.

Oui, mais quand vient le soir, raréfiant enfin

Les passants alourdis de sommeil ou de faim,

Et que le couchant met au ciel des taches rouges,

Qu'il fait bon aux rêveurs descendre de leurs bouges

Et, s'accoudant au pont de la Cité, devant

Notre-Dame, songer, cœur et cheveux au vent !

Les nuages, chassés par la brise nocturne,

Courent, cuivreux et roux, dans l'azur taciturne.

Sur la tête d'un roi du portail, le soleil,

Au moment de mourir, pose un baiser vermeil.

L'Hirondelle s'enfuit à l'approche de l'ombre.

Et l'on voit voleter la chauve-souris sombre.

Tout bruit s'apaise autour. À peine un vague son

Dit que la ville est là qui chante sa chanson,

Qui lèche ses tyrans et qui mord ses victimes ;

Et c'est l'aube des vols, des amours et des crimes.

- Puis, tout à coup, ainsi qu'un ténor effaré

Lançant dans l'air bruni son cri désespéré,

Son cri qui se lamente, et se prolonge, et crie,

Éclate en quelque coin l'orgue de Barbarie :

Il brame un de ces airs, romances ou polkas,

Qu'enfants nous tapotions sur nos harmonicas

Et qui font, lents ou vifs, réjouissants ou tristes,

Vibrer l'âme aux proscrits, aux femmes, aux artistes.

C'est écorché, c'est faux, c'est horrible, c'est dur,

Et donnerait la fièvre à Rossini, pour sûr ;

Ces rires sont traînés, ces plaintes sont hachées ;

Sur une clef de sol impossible juchées,

Les notes ont un rhume et les do sont des la,

Mais qu'importe ! l'on pleure en entendant cela !

Mais l'esprit, transporté dans le pays des rêves,

Sent à ces vieux accords couler en lui des sèves ;

La pitié monte au cœur et les larmes aux yeux,

Et l'on voudrait pouvoir goûter la paix des cieux,

Et dans une harmonie étrange et fantastique

Qui tient de la musique et tient de la plastique,

L'âme, les inondant de lumière et de chant,

Mêle les sons de l'orgue aux rayons du couchant !


- Et puis l'orgue s'éloigne, et puis c'est le silence,

Et la nuit terne arrive et Vénus se balance

Sur une molle nue au fond des cieux obscurs :

On allume les becs de gaz le long des murs.

Et l'astre et les flambeaux font des zigzags fantasques

Dans le fleuve plus noir que le velours des masques ;

Et le contemplateur sur le haut garde-fou

Par l'air et par les ans rouillé comme un vieux sou

Se penche, en proie aux vents néfastes de l'abîme.

Pensée, espoir serein, ambition sublime,

Tout, jusqu'au souvenir, tout s'envole, tout fuit,

Et l'on est seul avec Paris, l'Onde et la Nuit !


- Sinistre trinité ! De l'ombre dures portes !

Mané-Thécel-Pharès des illusions mortes !

Vous êtes toutes trois, ô Goules de malheur,

Si terribles, que l'Homme, ivre de la douleur

Que lui font en perçant sa chair vos doigts de spectre,

L'Homme, espèce d'Oreste à qui manque une Électre,

Sous la fatalité de votre regard creux

Ne peut rien et va droit au précipice affreux ;

Et vous êtes aussi toutes trois si jalouses

De tuer et d'offrir au grand Ver des épouses

Qu'on ne sait que choisir entre vos trois horreurs,

Et si l'on craindrait moins périr par les terreurs

Des Ténèbres que sous l'Eau sourde, l'Eau profonde,

Ou dans tes bras fardés, Paris, reine du monde !


- Et tu coules toujours, Seine, et, tout en rampant,

Tu traînes dans Paris ton cours de vieux serpent,

De vieux serpent boueux, emportant vers tes havres

Tes cargaisons de bois, de houille et de cadavres !
 52° 
Onomatopiyya
If you're here now
I would just grab you
Make you dance with me
To this song but
You're not
So I'll just dance
With this teddy you gave me
Through the night
I effing miss you and I know you don't or maybe I'm wrong. It's okay. It's my choice.
 51° 
Traveler
Life can be
Such a mess
So get out there
And do your best

You fell down
Well, get back up
I never meant
To be so rough

The world is fast
And it ain't fair
Love is hard
And it's cold out there

Life can be such a mess
It's up to you
To do your best...
 47° 
Universe Poems
Full Moon
Let's Dance
Water
Crystals to
Release energy,
from me to you
Activate innate,
Powers, and qualities,
Right through
So mote it be
for all of you


© 2021 Carol Natasha Diviney
 32° 
Traveler
Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
  Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes

Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test

Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim
.


Hay
No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

Vanity
All is vanity
The meanings of passion
The aesthetic expression
The lines we draw and stay within
Even love is beyond intent
Vanity transcends
Flowing from our pens
And so we breathe again
 31° 
Kim Denise
It's 11:11
and for the first time
after a very long time
I'm wishing for myself
and not for you
 30° 
Emilio Valdez
For awhile, I was running.

Running so hard, so fast,
My mind had no chance to let thoughts run past.

Lungs searing under the weight of my oxygen-demanding muscles,

I push my writhing muscles, while I wrench
This suffering heart to my will.

This foolish will of mine.
 29° 
Zack Ripley
You don't have to be alone
To feel alone.
I still struggle with that
Despite how much I've grown.
I still have my friends,
My family, my fans.
But when I look down, all I see
are my empty hands.
 29° 
Evan Stephens
We built a little night
but you emptied it.

Your Dublin beachhead
is all undertow.

Dead menus blow from
one gutter to the next.

Westward parks
fill with fever.

A gibbeted sun
hangs ignored.

O darling...
I'm not this way,

I'm not this way -
remember what I am.
 28° 
Irisa
If you come to be the reason
Then I will take the excuse
Handling whatever that could happen
For that it is a result I can't refuse
 27° 
Clarkia
To know you never watched
A single video of mine
Never read
A single poem
Never followed
A single link
These are the parts
That break my heart
Because you don't believe me
When I say I see you
Because you don't see me
 25° 
Jennifer DeLong
Do you want to know what she dreams
Do you want to kmow what she listens to when shes alone
The music that energizes her magic
The food she craves on a cold day
Her favorite perfume
what drives her wild
What makes her laugh
What she loves about you
I hope you really do
Cause thats what loving her
is all about and so so much more
If you dont want to know or even think about it
Then let her go
She deserves more
If you feel it and want to
Then why cant you
Thats a ? your gonna need to
answer
Shes a beautiful soul
magic and fire flow through her veins
She is strong and has a lust for life
Shes truth when you need it
She fight for you
When your weak she will muster up her energy and share it with you
So tell me do you think about her ?

© Jennifer L DeLong  🦏2/20/2021
 25° 
Jessica B
You are not the love of my life,
You are the life of my love ❤️
 25° 
syncoped
if I become the reason behind your fall,
will you be my summer?
if I wear that red, lacy thing you like,
will you worship a sinner?

if I turn everything I touch into ash,
will you become my color?
if I give you temporary moments of bliss,
will you be mine forver?
 25° 
Laokos
shirtless screaming through
the heartland and I used
to smoke cigarettes
too.

she never wanted
to stay: the youth
she had
left demanded it.
now, I'll wager
she's somewhere
in an apartment with
some dandy that
wears sweater vests
to Thanksgiving dinner.

maybe she thinks
about me and my little
twisted heart every
now and again:
like when she's away
from the sweater vest
on the toilet
behind a locked door,
"be right out, babe!"
or toting groceries
through a parking lot
to her car,
or signaling a
left turn before
changing her mind
and deciding to
go straight instead.

and
maybe I need to
stop thinking
about her
especially after
three years
incommunicado

but what can I say?
I've never slept on
a bed of nails
I couldn't
dream on.
 23° 
anica
"do you love me?" i asked with utmost uncertainty
he looked at me as he said, "sometimes."
unsettled, unsecured and in limbo, "no guarantee."
he repeated, "no guarantee... at all times."
 21° 
misha
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
if only i could chase you with pizza but shots don't work like that
 21° 
gc
i think that the most damaged people in the world
are the kindest
and the softest

because they know
that scabs can be picked
and you can bleed
 21° 
REY
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.
 21° 
littlebrush
In the deep corners of 3am,
I find her.
 21° 
Callamasttia
Sun and wind
When I got to you location
We greeted
As past wasn't screaming
Coffee time
Small talk
How have you been?
Your hair is longer
And this is were we are
Table talk
We're old now
Not bedroom gossip
Table talk
How's your parents?
And about work?
Ignoring the real questions
We want to make so badly
Because real questions
Aren't suitable
For adults table talk
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