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There’s magnificence in broken ice
Crystallized carousel of bits
Shards and little fragments
That cover the abyss  
A creation made by nature
That doubles as an art
Layer after layer
Drifting miles apart
Melting at alarming rates
As sea levels rise up higher
And despite the excess water
It can’t help put out this fire
It’s a problem that we caused ourselves
For profits and for wealth
We must prepare for what’s to come
In the future and for our health
 66° 
justoneman
I’m sick of all these love songs
Written about another
Sonnets and odysseys
Desperate for a Lover

I want to enjoy the silence
Nihility subdue
Equally alone
As I am with you

I try to reflect Compassion
A metric of good health
Psuedo-neo Truism
Learn to “Love Thy Self”
 65° 
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)
 53° 
Lexie
Press me against you
Like flowers in a book
 47° 
blank
oh just please G-d
tell me exactly how to dance
 45° 
Chandler
Today is a new day
Yet it all feels the same
No one else to blame
For mediocrity
Comfort and stability
Stunts all abilities
The search for balance is a balancing act
 37° 
Alex Rappel
she touches me and i am lost
in her hair, her mouth,
her eyes, her skin—
she is quicksand, she is oasis.
she speaks to me and i am allured
her voice lily of the valley,
daring tongue soft and subtle
but lethal as i drink her in
no longer can i give anyone else
what i so eagerly give to her
Written on 8 December 2018 in honour of a dear friend of mine
at crossroads I was, unable to choose
where I would go, and what I could lose
the clock was ticking, the other cars waiting
in the middle I stood, debating, debating ~
the decision to make, what path to take
what would I lose, when so much was at stake?
completely different paths, different journeys, different outcomes. what would you choose?
 29° 
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.
 28° 
Luna
How to become a poet:
Let someone rip your soul apart.
And in the need of mending ,
You will replace it with words.
 25° 
Safana
Allow my hands

Picking up a love

In the early morning light

And, in the beautiful evening

Let the dew drop,

In the garden near the bay

And let N-and-Z be bright stars

In the darky sky close to the crescent moon
Two young lovers Nazeefi and Zainab
Wishing you long life and prosperity
 24° 
nivek
stumbled into silence
tongue-tied

empty of words
love slayed my heart.
 23° 
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
Why do you look for something
You don't want to find
Why do you continue to search
When you know it's not there
Nor will it ever be
But yet you continue
To go looking for
What you don't want to find
To torture yourself...
         ...Why?
 22° 
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
 15° 
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.
 15° 
Lye
I’m buried in a cocoon of stories
From poetry,
To biographies,
To dystopia,
And romance
So many stories
Of so many people
Real,
Or just figments of the author’s
Imagination
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
 15° 
shatteredpoet
i never intended
to take apart
all the pieces
you glued back
together
 14° 
emnabee
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.
 14° 
Justin S Wampler
Best left behind,
that's what I've found.

Sometimes if you can't understand why,
then just maybe
it's best left behind.

Carry me yonder,
my stubborn stride.
For the past, and all it's burdensome belongings are
best left behind.
 13° 
Nat Lipstadt
Something’s changed.


6:00 AM Sun August 16 2022

The temperature today will baby step
up the kitchen ladder, careful, senior slow,
to hover at a pleasant 79 Fahrenheit.

But, I am unfooled.

‘tis the birthing of the
changeling of mid-Augustus,
June’s initiating summer solstice,
an intimate longing now a long
gone forgotten memory, now a
calendar X a valedictorian graduate.

But of late, the sun has lately been
heisted by late afternoon by a batter
thick grayish cloud cover, right here,
hovering upon this godly place on earth.

there is a underlying fragrance, familiar,
an unmistakable chilling odor of cool fall.

an urgency emerges, hurry up you,
pluck the blueberries, harvest the peaches,
because trace hints of crispin fall apples,
falling browning foliage, curling leaves,
pumpkin flavorings and yellow gourds
is unjustly barely there, a definitely discernible.  

Back-to-school ads replace banners proclaiming
bargain prices for summer necessities, vin rosé.

Even the squirrels are enjoying a Sunday rest,
after mornin’ worship, no feverish acorn collection,
a subtle hint, winter supplying must be nearly done.

dare not superstitious say out loud, the **** geese,
have made themselves scarce going on two weeks,
having learned a trick or two from the Ukrainians,
I chuckle to think that we may have regained territory.

But, I am unfooled.

Morning boats of all ilk and demeanor ply-plow the
bay waters, but all seem less hurried, savoring the pretense
of forever long summer days, beyond-belief sunsets, soft white
ice of creamy calming waters, no impasto^ seas wintry rough.

Return-to-bed, coffee mugged, I await the Dumps early call,
the sorting done, metal, plastic,compostable, so easy to bring
order to our daily detritus, thinking if only one could sort the seasons then I would be a forever summer man, here,
on this godly place.


But, I am unfooled.

7:06 AM Tue Aug 16 2020
Shelter Island, N.Y.

————————
^Impasto is a technique used in painting, where paint is laid on an area of the surface thickly, usually thick enough that the brush or painting-knife strokes are visible. Paint can also be mixed right on the canvas. When dry, impasto provides texture; the paint appears to be coming out of the canvas.
 13° 
Molly
It strikes, not with a gale,
but with a drizzle of cherry blossoms
and a flurry of gentle chords.
 13° 
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
they say

they

do they not know the darkness,

how the light can fade into latin,

and all things reasonable

means more if you sit quietly
in the light
 12° 
Seranaea Jones
-


there is decidedly too much space
between us and the spool

all this rope and not enough bone
within our fingers to get
a good grip

and

with too many moons having past
to notice any stars from the bottom
of this nightmare dream well—

do we just
drip ?...


s jones
2022



.
 12° 
Heather
She loves me
He lusts for me
They need me
You long for me
But I am alone
 12° 
Suresh Gupta
BLISS

05/24/2019



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
 12° 
Max
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
 11° 
haysia
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.
 11° 
She Writes
I am scared to let my mind wander
To get tangled and twisted
In daydreams

To paint pretty pictures
Of you and me and us
Happily ever after

I’ve been fooled
By empty promises
Too many times

But the way you say tomorrow
Makes me want let go
And trust that the future is nothing to fear
 11° 
Dennis Willis
DOA
Nothing to be said
is so loud
after such a thing
 11° 
sancus
you take all of the
stars in the night sky with you
whenever you leave.
 10° 
Özcan Sh
I wish
her scars were on my heart
and not on her arms.
 10° 
zoe
say
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.
I am but
one star
in the
universe
that you
deserve.
I am but
a rain's
puddle
when
it is
the ocean
that you
need to
swim in.
Wish
upon me.
Dance
and jump
within me.
I long
to be
enough
for thee.



written by me... ..
 10° 
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
 9° 
Heather
let it be what it is
he said
which was hard
because I didn’t know what it was
 9° 
Ann
keep your eyes closed love.

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