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 1365° 
Emma
boundless trust erupts,
naïve like a child’s bright gaze—
chaos whispers loud.

choices carved in haste,
fragile bridges left to burn—
echoes haunt the heart.
Although mania brings with it joy energy and hope it also comes with haste bad decisions. I tend to be too naive and unpredictable.
 578° 
Nat Lipstadt
an existential question so deep,
it can be answered only by
enumerating a million tiny
words:

in the quiet crackling of a spine & unsticking page noise of an opening of a brand new book, a first of firsts, a thrill for free in any bookstore that is yours now, uniquely and forever

in the upward stroking of a smooth
cheek, by your smallest finger, upon
a newborn’s face, your youngest child’s
newborn, and a rare moment of unadulterated love tinged by
immortality

the smile you retrieve when scratching
that old beloved pet’s face, in the exact
spot only you two know and a long time ago
discovered


patrolling the Promenade, espying an
elderly couple so bundled against the
city’s Arctic cold freeze, that movement nearly impossible, nonetheless holding gloved hands in a manner and a moment describable only as inseparable

letting someone jump in front of you,
at the supermarket or the bank, when
they have only one item to purchase, and you, a dozen or so, but the most important item you really really urgent need you have is to prove to yourself that it is possible to buy more time
for a human

crossing with an elegant eldery woman
across the wilds of First Ave., who insists
she needs no help (ha!), but doing it anyway
by complimenting her candy striped cane,
and being rewarded with a “stop that, or
I’ll be forced to take you
home!”

searching endlessly for  red kidney beans in olive oil in a health store that has no less than 19 varieties of everything, and an immigrant teenager employee tskes you across a cityscape of aisles, turns, niches and alcoves  to the exact spot and item, and you
smile and weep because the beam of their smile at your pleasure lights up two souls
simultaneously

next, herbed flavored tofu?

making a bank teller laugh (a near impossibility) when depositing a very large
check, and when asked if there is anything
else you need, informing that you would like to withdraw half immediately but only if they have a sufficient quantity of extra large size single dollar bills!

a group of privileged upper east side college seniors eating out at a wonderful Italian neighborhood restaurant, talking loudly about their recent travels abroad, and how crazy it is that one cannot get a cappuccino in Italy(!) except at breakfast
(oh, the in-justice)

here I stop, because not a lot, of my reasons
to be brought forth are concluded, but only because  you have started
to feel an urgent need to p-
repare/start your own list, immediately if not sooner to ascertain precisely your own anwer to:
Where
are you
being?


5:48am
NYC
Shabbat, January 18, 2025
18 Tevet, 5785
 501° 
Sweety Kumari Sah
From mountain peaks, a river flows,
Its silver dance in sunlight glows.
Birds sing sweetly from morn to night,
Their melodies are a pure delight.

The soft wind wraps in tender care,
A gentle kiss, beyond compare.
It stirs the heart, sets spirits free,
A glowing touch, a harmony.

In nature's arms, a soul takes flight,
Glowing gently, bathed in light.
A timeless bond, serene and true,
The world's soft beauty, embracing you.
from a real experience
 424° 
David P Carroll
Romance whispers tonight
And love is dancing all through
This starry night and the
Starlit sky above binds our
Dreams in silver threads
Timeless pure and true oh
I've falling deeply in love with you
And our love will forever grow
And with every heartbeat
A rhythm of soft whispers
Whispering I love you it's true
And my own love song it's
So soft and powerful just for you
And our hands intertwined and
We walk the paths of our hearts
Safe in each moment as
The sun bows to us feeling true love
Deep in our hearts as the twilight
Whispers secrets in the dark night
And in your gaze I find my one true love
Tonight.
Real Romance 💖💖
 235° 
RMatheson
Are you there?
If so,
it's less.

And you say don't plant flowers,
then wonder why we have no garden.

And you say don't call you by name,
then wonder why we've become strangers.

And you say don't give,
then wonder why we share nothing.

And you say don't speak freely,
then wonder why meals are so silent.

Are you there?

Are you?
Take my blood, take my sweat, take my tears,
I will still be pushing through these fears.
not giving up.
 218° 
Vesper
Will there ever be a day?
Where I do not live in fear?
Of your constant watch?

Will there ever be a day?
Where I find real love?
For more than a minute?

Will there ever be a day?
Where the shadows stop lurking?
Where the voices stop talking?

Will there ever be a day?
Where I figure this out?
Where I can fall down and rest?

Will there ever be a day?
Where I am truly alone?

Sometimes it feels
Like the days have passed
Slower and Slower
Faster and Faster
It feels like the days I aught for
Are already gone
Just a memory
Floating in the wind

So I keep wondering...
Will there ever be a day?
 196° 
Mike Hauser
you took a match
to my heartstrings
till nothing was left
to even cling

left with a heart
with nowhere to turn
and there you are
watching it burn
 184° 
Kai
My body seems uncontrollable
However, I'm always humble
Movements I cannot decide for myself
Words I cannot decide if I want to spill it out of myself
Jumping around all the time
To the point it feels like a crime
Then having a sugar crash
Sadly, not like the monster mash
Legs moving for no reason
To the point where it feels like a **** sin
It hurts
It hurts
Yet, I'm so addicted to this feeling
It's so appealing
Almost as if it were a drug
But it's simply just a stomach bug

Moving till I can't breathe
Moving till I break my feet
Head is spinning
Dreaming...
...I want more...
But I can'̶t̶  handle anymore
I want more
Muscles are tensing against my skin
My flesh feels like a trash bin
Until my skin burst
That's definitely not the first!
Movement is like the electricity
Supply for the city
While I'm the TV
Part of the city





I don't want to stop
Stop
STOP!!
I don't want to stop!
Why should I?
Look me deep in my eyes
Why should I?







Laughing as I dance around in my room
Not ever messing with my broom
Peak insanity crossing the road to my home
Introducing them to their new home
Uncontrolled movements as I rush
Grabbing my hair brush
Brushing their hair until my wrists breaks, blood leaking out of my wrists
My wrists
Looked like they were practically cut in half
Just like how my body was cut in half!


Tired
Drained
From all the pain
Yet, I can't find the remote to control my body
Help me find my own body
It's uncontrollable

It hurts
Please, it hurts
Put me back together
I'll be able to be controlled if you put me back together
I'll give you the remote control for you
You can do whatever you want to do
Just please, it hurts
It hurts
It burns
BRO I WAS TRYING TO MAKE SPECIAL CHARACTERS FOR THE POEM TO LOOK COOL AN OMINOUS BUT HELLO POETRY **** DI- AND WON'T LET ME ADD THEM ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ
 179° 
dread
whatever you wanted to call me,

sometimes it made me mad,
oftentimes it made me sad,

I'm not mad, I'm not sad,
I'm all around dead.

I didn't need your reminders to remember that I was bad,
I didn't need your kindness to still give you my hand.

Didn't need to call me son, to know you were dad,
Didn't need you to say you wanted me gone, because you were mom.

Oftentimes I wonder if it's me that doesn't understand,
sometimes I say, who will understand.

What if it were me,
that was best for the story,

I guess, I guess what it is that I've had.
 172° 
Immortality
Star loved moon,
and he did too.

They hated him,
but he never knew.

She shattered,
by their cold hand.

Who is at fault?
I was wrong,
you tried,
but I,
I was wrong.

I didn’t mean to,
but they willed us,
to fall apart.

Now the star’s heart is split,
half for the moon,
half for them.
At last, neither 'the moon' nor 'they' are as badly broken as 'the star' is.....
 162° 
Devo
So subtle, a walk I never heard
Until those steps were misplaced
Now imaginary paws as loud as ever
You always made my yesterday and today
Sweetest friend I ever had
For our 13 years together, I’m so glad
 136° 
Nishu Mathur
I coloured my world today
my hands smeared in pastels
canary yellows
ripe peaches and cardinal ochres
pink from a flamingo sunrise
a passionate cerise

Splashed
an array of feisty blues
a flamboyant turquoise
a topaz tango
a twinkling periwinkle

Streaked it with
beams of gold
contoured lilac smudges
lavender tipped edges
in custard pineapple floats

Splattered emeralds, toned pistachio
fern greens with swift finger strokes.

Tempered it with
muddy crusty earthy browns
rock coloured sandy mounds
reined in royal purple
the sensual blaze of a flaming sunset
the dark indigo of a gloaming sky
agate drops a few
a silver sliver of a crescent new

I coloured my world
with my eyes
my words
my fingers, hands
my hues
....just the way I wanted to
Old poem
 121° 
Hank Helman
She: Do you believe in nothing?

He: I don't believe nothing is possible.

She: So what is the point of all this?

He: To experience consciousness for as long as possible.

She : Why do you worry and fret all the time.

He: Evolutionary behavior.  In the past fear kept you alive.

She: What happens after death.

He: Why does it matter.
 117° 
Emery Feine
DOG
There is an exhausted dog following behind
Guilt seeps down his flowing mouth
He's falling asleep, he's going blind
He'll never make it down south

He whimpers for better dialogue
He begs me for energy
But I am that dog
And that dog is me
-.. --- --. -- --- ..- - ....
 115° 
s anne
are you listening to my muttered cries?
questions spilling from my brain like an oil leak.
can you give me an answer? stardust from your lips.
I want to know you. do you know me?
feel my life draining. heels digging in the dirt.
this is it, my love. don't worry anymore. I love you.
 111° 
Lukas Buijs
Big boy,
Smiling on the outside.
Grinning,
masking for those nearby.

Laughing
at his haircut.
Deep breaths
tough guy—own up.

Big boy,
colder than an iceberg.
Brother,
melt a bit when life hurts.

No use
feeling so rough.
Deep breaths
tough guy—own up.

Big boy,
Big heart.
 107° 
Noa
The last act of love I did
Was to let you go

-N.T.H
 106° 
Andi Leigh
An unexpected
Crater

Can devastate
Places

Once
Called home.

We can shape
A new life

Right in
The center.
 102° 
Emilia Glinka
Me
I’m always forgotten because I’m never known.
They see me and my concept,
what they believe it is,
but they do not take the time to know me,
my insides and fillings,
my laughs and tears,
my thoughts and words.
I’m always forgotten because they never care enough to notice my light,
or my lack of one.
Superficial gifts and smiles
all at once in one Christmas night.
I’m always forgotten in their brains,
like tasks that no one wants to do,
a person no one wants to know.

Closer to new years now.
I’m always forgotten over the summer.
I exist,
lax and blurry,
because they don’t remember me if they don’t see me.
Every person creates a different image,
except no one actually knows me.
They just see.
They watch.
They imagine.
And they create.
Me,
in their brains.
But its not me anymore,
because a me doesn’t exist in anyone’s mind.
Not even mine.
I’ve never written before so this may be little rough, considering English isn’t my first language. Hope you can read this and if you would like, give me a little feedback!
 100° 
S R Mats
Du coeur je demande:
Of the heart, I ask
"Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas chez toi:
What is wrong with you?

Du als Objekt:
I asked you a question.
Du als Reflexivpronomen:
"Why aren’t you looking
at yourselves in the mirror?"
Pourquoi ne vous
regardez-vous pas dans le miroir?

"Vous n'avez pas l'air bien!"
You do not look well!
Du mit einem Nomen: "You idiot!"
"Les malades du cœur"
The sick heart,

"Ce cœur, notre cœur"
This heart, our heart,
de la regarder:
Look at it,
mon Coeur: my love.
 99° 
Lex
I yearn to rip open my chest
to expose my heart to you
in it's most vulnerable state.
I can only hope you don't mind the blood.
 91° 
Lucy
One day, I will finally meet you.
One day, I will be able to speak to you in person
One day, you and i will hold hands
one day, you and i
one day, you and i will be toghter
wether that be in a starbucks, or in paris.
i will be there.
for you.
always.
This one is dedicsted to my partner.
1/18/25, 12:05 am
 85° 
Isabella Engseth
Love isn't supposed to hurt

My face in the mirror
Bruised, swollen and unrecognizable
I keep telling myself you care
Every blooming bruise
Followed by another 'i love you'
Every hit and punch
Followed by the softest caress
Every insult spat at me
Followed by beatiful flowers
Love isn't supposed to hurt
Yet the smallest acts of love makes me stay
I love him so much that I'm unable to see the hatred he has for me
The birds are all visiting the bird table
They’re all eating as they are able
It’s cold out there
And I do really care
So I drop some more seeds on the table
When ever I am  able
Suet ***** are hanging
Left over bread I throw out on the lawn
I couldn’t leave these poor creatures forlorn!
 78° 
Kim Seul
For nights, endlessly I had nurtured, a flower that could never grow—
A seed descent of bloom rotting, falling slow.
It wasn't the fault of the water or the air—so they say;
The fault lay with the gardener, who trusted the wrong seed that day.
 77° 
Shiv K
Up all night overthinking captures his mind
Only her picture Appears in front of his eyes
As the room is so dark and nothing is visible
But the room appears too glow
When her memories flashes in front of his eyes
A plant with beautiful flowers
And she herself appears in his mind.
With powerful wind blowing
Such that the leaves of trees.
Appears to run from one corner to another
The guy is laughing, cheering, smiling
But while sitting all alone in dark room.
Because he knows
She can never become his Mrs.

-Composed by Shiv K
 74° 
Thirty Nine
One last time under the sky
Because the future would bring the lovers apart
Dark moon, bright stars
 70° 
April
Big beautiful face
Bursting with color
Earth's shining star captured in a flower
spreading smiles in alI directions
Gently waving in the slight summer breeze
With warmth and invitation
To enjoy this moment in the sun
 70° 
Eric Bergeron
I don't do new year resolutions

This year.

I want to love myself a little more each day.
I want to learn to be soft and gentle on myself, the way I always tell others to be for themselves.

Sometimes, I want to simply exist.

Other times, I want to make life happen

This new year,
I want to change.
I want to grow.
I want to flourish.

I do not think the world is truly ready for my transformation,
But I am, so here we go.
 63° 
Maria
I’m painting my love in autumn colors.
I’m painting the flame of leaves underfoot,
The greyish sky, rainy and foggy.
The crying love is a natural mood.

Boarded benches are in the park
Under the shade of naked trees.
And fog is ahead, lots of fog.
My love is hidden in it indeed.

Behind the fog my love is flowing
Inexorably, irrevocably like a water.
It’s running off to nowhere away,
Without a trace forever in autumn.
 60° 
Dennis Willis
Maybe
i wanna write a poem
that i'int
jus uhnother moan
all 'bout
bein alo-ne
an ahbe
bulowin' 'atat
 59° 
Jack Groundhog
Fifty years ago, the future came,
built in concrete, tile, and bright lights,
underground station, undergirding the fame
of this city, adding to its manifold sights.

Now the future’s a place that smells of stale beer,
barely lit by futuristic lamps in disrepair,
wallpapered in graffiti, strewn with gear
of the pale homeless who’ve made this their lair.

They, like this chipped, grimy, forsaken place
are left in the dust of our dreams’ mercury pace.
Inspired by this photo I took of a semi-abandoned pedestrian tunnel system near the Berlin trade fair: https://bsky.app/profile/jackgroundhog.bsky.social/post/3lfxjtrxss22h
We trigger an avalanche of reactions,
without consciousness of faults made.

We tread on the thin ice of the lake.
Under us, everything drifts.

Inner voices
urge us, despite the cold.

Personal anxiety
the back of the head throbs.

We wear different states of existence:
Happiness, purgatory, and despair.

Living despite boundless doubts,
we are sculpting our metaphysic.
Seven-petaled daisy,
Rare beauty graces my garden,
Will luck now find me?
 56° 
hsn
frozen still in silver secretion
forever perceived in a million
concepts; a story engrained, and
it goes...
art is interpretive and doesnt have a concrete purpose
it is up to the viewer to interpret the story behind all
things regardless of the artists intent
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