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Here we go again, another night
of gold and green, sunflowers and camouflage
confetti sinking lower and lower, decorating heads of hair
screaming, crying, cheering
being one with the music
a community, one that is filled with joy and support
sing, boy, sing
I'm going to see Twenty One Pilots tonight!!!
Terry Collett
Olga hears the news
in the wind.

Stalin is dead
and people were crying.

They cried
while he lived
now they cry
because he died.

Still she hears tall trees
speak in the voice
of the wind;
still hears
her husband's voice
carried on the wings
of the wind
from death cells
or some distant gulag
baptized in deep snow.
A Russian widow in 1953
I am a contagious smile
I am always happy
I am a tender heart
I am a caring soul
I am oh so confident
I am always in control
I am…
More than you see…
I am scared
I am alone
I am doubting
I am unsure
I am waiting…
For you to reach in,
Hold my hand…
Touch my face…
Tell me it's going to be okay
Let me know I'm not alone…
That you care,
That I'm wanted…
I belong…
I have so many questions,
So many fears…
But you don't see that,
You don't see me…
I am a contagious smile
On my way
to you
I lost
in my own life
The little bird chirps its happy song
Knows to this place it belongs
Every morning on the window sill
Sings its wake up song
Full of hope and possibilities
Welcomes the new Dawn
There's a tear in my soul
And the stuffing's falling out
Surprised you're not surprised
I was never real
Eyes of glass
Heart of gold
My flesh is made from silicone
Imperfect, blemishes and wrong
Hands are cold
Warm as stone
I was never real
Yet I still feel alone
I need this lie
To bleed itself out
And cut through this flesh
Of silicone
Do I mean anything more to you?
Ellen F D

The precious drop of creation,
Bestowed upon a mere rock,
Afloat in a void of nothingness.

Vibrant, calculated, chaotic,
So is life.

Each journey unique,
Each purpose paramount,
Each species significant.

It’s delicate arrangement,
Filled with indescribable beauty,
And holistic precision.

The miracle that is life.
Listen to what people say,
Don't just wait to speak.
Listen closely and you'll hear
What it is they seek.

Listen to what people say
And hear the things they don't.
The silence in a pause alone
Will speak what the mouth won't.
This mask of mine remains on my face I can’t remember when I started wearing it
When the “I’m fines”
were anything but
when the stress became to much
I can’t remember why I wear this mask of mine all I know is it’s stuck
You were waiting for your end

Listening to the knocks on your door

Now they have broken the gate

Love has made it way in

And brought the world with it

Where will you run to now?
Paras Bajaj
when I thought it was the beginning,
you ran away thinking it was the end.
sometimes I feel like I know you so well,
sometimes you are just so hard to understand.
15 floors up on the terrace,
Distance seems endless,
Figures an oil painting,
Buildings just dust,
Noise a never-ending static,
Fog a malfunction in the code,
The sky nothing but a watercolour,
And the sun just a fragment of time,
Laughing at the dreamers who rhyme

Only you and these tears now seem real,
Will it forever be just the once?
Peter Gareth
I want to be a different person
No, not someone else
But an improved version of myself
And a huge part of that process
Is to get rid of all the layers of you
That remain rooted in me

So I'll skin myself to the bone
Besides how painful it may be
Until I can finally state to the wind
That you no longer pull my strings
As it gently messes my hair
And whisper that I'm free
Some lines about my daddy issues... I had the most messed up childhood and it's quite hard to forgive him for it.
Torin Galleshaw
she moves to me
whether in a picture or sat against the sea
as a cloud she floats gently above me
the currents and the streams
her neck where sections sit
the way her necklace rests ever so delicately
her soft brown skin
through all this land
she moves to me

she is
sunshine on a crystal morning
and pearls

she moves to me
whether its a mirror or stood against the sky
as the music the cosmos makes in our silence
the stars and the planets
her neck where moons beam
the way her necklace follows her collorbone
through all this space
she moves to me
whether its gravity or we as entangled particles
and we are in every moment as we are together
our quantum dancing
her neck where time begins
the way her necklace falls so gracefully into place
through all this time
she moves to me

I kiss her just below her right ear
and I know now is everywhere
and everytime is now
the sun and the moon
the spiral galaxy
the walls that hold in time
I kiss her just below her right ear

she moves to me
whether its the wind or impossible odds
as the dreams we hold dear and our hope that keeps us strong
our faith and love
her neck which i caress gently
the way her necklace seems to retire when she does
I kiss her on the eyelids
she moves to me
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.

I will write
a poem about
If you didn't interact with me,
We wouldn't be friends.
If you didn't flirt with me,
I wouldn't have fallen for you.
If you didn't put your arms around me,
I wouldn't made it my comfort zone.
If you haven't cancel our plans,
I wouldn't have ended up all sad.
If i could've controlled my emotions,
I wouldn't have lost you.

But i guess maybe, if i didnt meet you at all,
I wouldn't have to know how a friendship friendzone heartbreak would feel like
Maybe love hurts rejection despondent sad heartbroken lost over
Carmen Jane
Writing poems in the windows
Upstairs and downstairs
All around
All day long
My daughter, who is 4 proudly announced that she wrote a poem in her head, I quickly noted down and wanted to publish it, as I am very proud of her!
I'm brOKen
My cells mutate.
Is it you or we
Who contaminate?
Nobody's safe,
Am I the disease?
There's no fulfilment
In immunity
Eva Rushton
I spent a smile
On another today
The cost was of little
But a soul it did save
I spent a smile
On another today
My heart it grew lighter
Their world became brighter
The smile I spent
On another today
Came back to me
With happiness I see

Written by E.M.Rushton
June 24 th 2019
I am my own enemy
Watering fresh dreams
With stale efforts

I am my own foe
Reaping the fruits of
The dead seeds I sow

I am my own rival
Dying of thirst
But trying to drown first

I am my own nemesis
A perpetual decadent
A fool, A pessimist
Hmm I've only got a
few likes today hmm maybe
my writings not good

Why am I even
writing what's it's all about
What's the point , I only feel

anxious now , deep breaths
Now I feel silly why did
I write that , oh jeez

heart beating feel sick!!
Then my self doubt passes and
I'm back to lovely

place again! Self doubt
sure can grip me making me
feel really down! But you

see writing helps dig
through negativity , am
I a poet or not

Maybe , I'm not sure
But I'm much more too , I'm a
wife a mum a sister

a friend. I've wrote my
heart out for five years now non
stop to be honest

But now I'm in such
a lovely place of content
I'm living happy

Of course I still get
life stresses hit me and yeah
I get negative

But one thing I can
always rely on is my
passion for writing

It helps mentally
to keep me strong and focus
May it come from my

heart or mind or once
in awhile I like to write
stories , fun fun fun :)

I'm slowing down now
Gone and got myself married :)))
Tis so wonderful

Children are growing
up fast , there leading there own
life's more every day

So I'm finding new
hobbies to keep me active
Life changes happen

But to write , will be  
in me always , tis part of me
it's just there always

So to all who love to
write have fun dry those tears up
Find your happy place :))
Have a lovely week ahead :)) love to u all xxxx
If a picture buys
Something like a thousand words,
Which of us is robbed
If I should, as a kindness,
Paint with so few syllables?
Penguin Poems
If want was water,
I would be drowning, my head under completely
and my oxygen quickly depleting.
If confusion was cold,
My fingers would be numb and I wouldn't even
have a coat to ward off the freezing.
If youth was you,
It would be slipping away by the second,
And I can't get a hold to stop it.
my air is gone,
I'm shivering to the bone,
and can't keep a hold on.
But, this is only a poem:
I know I'm not suffocating, subzero, or slipping.
But I can't help but feel like the more I write,
the farther I get from reality
and the closer I get to metaphor mortality.
If you don't heal what hurt you,

You'll bleed on people who didn't cut you.
Sorriderò e sorriderai ma non capirai
promesse che non potevi mantenere,
melodie che non suonano più bene
dicevi guarderemo il tramonto su una spiaggia
così stretti in un abbraccio da non respirare
in riva al mare a ballare
non ci importerà della pioggia
perché non ti lascerò andare
acquari, dischi e libri
io e te in un castello
era solo un sogno, era solo un gioco
seppur molto bello
le mie lacrime sanno di nostalgia mista a rabbia
perché in fondo
era solo un castello di sabbia.
This one's in italian but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Expectation, hopes and dreams for a relationship that do not come to life, has this ever happened to you?
late at night, i lie awake
thinking of things i should have said
all the mistakes i've made
and signs i should've read

then think about what i can't live without
you, front and center in my mind
sometimes it feels like halfway love
almost, but not quite

still, parts of you make me whole
who i am and who i need to be
i think of love letters that weren't torn up
feelings of blue and green

when i'm without you
blank page, artless innocence
i realize how dependent i've grown to you
and feel the need to create a distance

sometimes i look up at the purple sky
and wonder if you're looking too
i gaze at the colors and the beauty of it all
though its beauty would never compare to you
she smells (nameless and shameless)

a concoction of mixed aromas,
a once in a lifetime scent,
impossible to bottle,
impossible to name,
nameless and shameless

morning coffee, last nights vin rosé,
a come-a-little-closer-tasting for the summer solstice,
the stale of the evening meals of grains and kale,
the sour remains of bedroom sweat,
the displeasing scented sight of
sweat soiled clothes carelessly discarded

the first of the season red spot-stained white peonies
fail to mask the bodies aromatic musks,
which are mostly gender identifiable

my sneakers hail mary, her stockings odorize the atmosphere
most unusually, nylon and lycra are strangely familiar,
prior memorized perhaps, from deep within, a ****** hallelujah,
deep amidst where, the ***** linens are shelved and binned,
before they journey to the Egypt Nile of the basement waters

the burnt crumbs of illegal in-bed brioche toast
amazingly invisible on unclean sheets,
state “breakfast in bed, was yummy in the tummy,
but next time use a big dinner plate,
down here, the burnt of the bread and the burnt
of other things (popcorn pieces)
is just a scratchiest fragrance too far,
needing a sheet wiped clean slate

even the colorless and tasteless water
absorb the ionosphere of smells,
because one does usually speak poetically,
one of us makes a (vice) presidential declaration:

she smells, I man-ually stink, each,
each glower shower nower,
open the window to the spring wet grass aroma fresh cut,
to exhume and then send away
this odor now christened,

nameless and shameless

11:47 28/4/19
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 too *******.
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.
She leans over the sink
weight on her toes
to applied lipstick
in quick certain strokes,
the way a man signs
his hundredth signature
of the morning.

With lips of convictionless curvature
as the lipstick retracted like a red eel
all day she left her mark
on everything she kissed.
Even the air remarks
like intoxicating news
whispered from ear to ear.

Joseph Sinclair
Each morning I awake.

Each morning I am aware
that I am the me that
went to bed last night.

The same me.

And I experience
a vast feeling
of disappointment.

I pray for the day
that I awake
and am
And finally I realized
I don’t want us to hurt each other anymore
moon child

Xaela San
I'm not "smart" like them.

I'm not "bright" as them.

I'm not "confident" like them.

I'm not "beautiful" as them.

I'm not "someone" like them.

Can you just accept that?

I don't like crying myself anymore

-Said myself in the mirror.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
I had coffee and a cigarette for breakfast
So yeah I'm doing fine
I've become good at taking weight off of other peoples shoulders
Searching for happiness in everything
ting is
your           life
thro             ugh
a ne           edle
and         if
you sew
John Niederbuhl
You are what you are
You aren't what you used to be
You'll know when you're old
Seasons of life
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.
my grip is slipping,
and falling scares me.
my world is fading away.

                          ­     p

writing was an escape but even now words slip off the paper like tear drops.
why does it have to be like this?
CL Fjell
Sunlit room breathes deeply
Another morning has awoken
A tired zombie shuffles across

Morning stretches and a daily rinse
Turns a zombie to a prince
Now he's ready to work and work
One-third of his life away
So tragic.
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