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I can see my faults in the ceiling every night
Press me against you
Like flowers in a book
I know a bird
Who knows the Word,
And, Lord, I've heard
   Him share it.
He'll use his beak
The Word to speak:
He's (tongue in cheek)
   A Parrott.
Self love is not love but anti-love
Parts are but to be mutually fitted
And imperfections only seeming
Ceasing to be in the perfected whole
But is not if any part seeks its own
My love is a privilege

please remember that

I’ll write you poems

when you run out of words

when you can’t breathe

I’ll offer my lungs

to you I give myself

I ask for only one thing

If you could just love me back

I don’t need a ring.
The hairdresser cuts

me, he is cutting up time --

to eternity.
Often in the chair with the hairdresser, almost always

"Der Zauberberg" ("The Magic Mountain", 1924, Thomas Mann)

Collection "Moist glow"
Whispering hardships into the night
Only echo as an answer
No one but me to spark the light
In search of a pyromancer
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)
The earth is replenishing now the humans are gone
They strive for perfection what could go wrong

They introduced riches to share with the poor and the needy
got infected by greed the then became the greedy

Then they broke every commandment and every set rule
they scourged the earth just by playing the fool

Scientist became gods changing our evolution
got it wrong every time but found a new solution

The end came so quick, just a cough or a sneeze
brought the human race tumbling down to its knees

So the moral of the story as the sun brightly shone
life will be much simpler now the humans have gone
Sam Tate
Sometimes, the words don’t come.

The consistent stream of consciousness, ceases.

I am left with nothing to say.

There is a beauty in the broken mind.

Like an abandoned building taken by nature.

It is not that my mind does not work.

It is that it works too fast,

And I am left behind,

Scrabbling in the dust,

Desperately seeking a connection,

In the discarded fragments of thought.

I am fighting a losing battle.

I fear the white flag will soon arise.

And signal the end.
How to become a poet:
Let someone rip your soul apart.
And in the need of mending ,
You will replace it with words.
Bogdan Dragos
you don't exist when
my eyes are open
you don't exist when
my blood's not poisoned
when my soul's at peace
when my gut is full
and when I'm in company

So you exist most of the time
dear muse
Ben Palomino
I converse with
The voices in my head

They talk slowly
So their guidance isn't misread
I have a few drafts. Not sure if it needs more or if short is better
Yousra Amatullah
Hetgeen van de tong druipt
stroomt door het hart
To build up your hopes every time knowing they will only be dashed,

There's nothing poetic about it really.
Just foolishness.
The worst thing is that it stings even more because I build myself up so high before every fall.

Its like when you realize you're dreaming, and before you can take control and make it lucid your own excitement awakens you.
apa khabar?
walau ku tau takkan berjawab tapi aman saja rasanya bila ku bertanya
kita menang, dan...
tulisan kita sudah dibaca ramai org
puisi kita di tempat pertama!
nukilan kita dibaca orang orang patah hati
cukup banggakah kau dengan ku?
tapi cukupkah aku untuk kamu?
I’m buried in a cocoon of stories
From poetry,
To biographies,
To dystopia,
And romance
So many stories
Of so many people
Or just figments of the author’s
Sitting atop wooden bookshelves
Waiting for the right person,
To pick them up
And get lost in their story
For everyone has a story to tell,
Some are overly exaggerated,
And other’s are rarely heard
The important thing is
That we share our stories
Through word of mouth,
The internet,
Or in a notebook
To be found by future historians
Tell your story
Believe me, you won’t regret it
i never intended
to take apart
all the pieces
you glued back
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.
time steals up soft in autumn’s haze
through fallen leaves and frosted morn
no longer smiles through summer days
bears dreadful gaze of mercy shorn

scribes lines upon youth’s winsome face
and brings the ache of stiffened joint
gives halting stride and slower pace
age piled like leaves does thus anoint

yet in thine eye dwells springtide’s bloom
in ardor’s dance is lightened tread
warm voice dispels autumnal gloom
at gentle touch are decades fled

for love knows naught of count of days
let the years flow as they will
unclouded passion’s flames yet blaze
I shall be thy lover still
Bobby Copeland
i want to make the good things last,
or failing that, good memories,
those moments when the veil is torn,
and sorrow is a secret prayer
It strikes, not with a gale,
but with a drizzle of cherry blossoms
and a flurry of gentle chords.
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.
She loves me
He lusts for me
They need me
You long for me
But I am alone
Suresh Gupta


in death lies the seed of birth,

so as we are cradled in one form,

so shall we be cradled in another.

no reason for dismay,

no cause for anguish
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
Nikita Tshawe
I want to perform
self surgery
Open this heart up
what's really bothering it
Brain surgery
Remove these thoughts
stuck in my head
Get to the bottom of this
Eliminate the pain
The memories
The anxiety
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
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.
you take all of the
stars in the night sky with you
whenever you leave.
aku ingin lebih banyak lagi,
lebih banyak menangis
menangis oleh sekeping lagu yang melintas,
komidi gambar dengan alur sederhana,
buku dengan pancawarna cerita

aku ingin lebih banyak lagi,
mencecap segala rasa yang tak sempat kuarungi

seniman begitu hebat?
I see the lights through the window
Forming shapes in your ceiling
We lie in bed and you look at me
You don't say what you are thinking
But you smile and get closer.

I hear the traffic through my window
Keeping me awake till late at night
Too late to say what I was thinking
That time I wanted to stay
But left anyway.
Özcan Sh
I wish
her scars were on my heart
and not on her arms.
I am but
one star
in the
that you
I am but
a rain's
it is
the ocean
that you
need to
swim in.
upon me.
and jump
within me.
I long
to be
for thee.

written by me... ..
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

No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

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
a silent chaos
Is pain considered a drug when you keep coming back for it? For more?
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