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𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞,
𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞.
𝐋𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞,
𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠,
𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
𝐌𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬,
𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫,
𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫.
𝐌𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥,
𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞,
𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐫.
Relieved to have this finished.
I have never thanked you,
for the conversations.

I have never thanked you,
for the smile.

I have never thanked you,
for asking me how i'm really doing.

I have never thanked you,
for staying alive.

Thank you,
thank you.
How many more times
Will I die
Before I find life
In its scarcest places?
Anonymous Freak
I remember
When people looked at me
As if I
Were beautiful.
what are we fighting for
we are all going to die
our pride and ego
won't matter
when all
we will be
in the end is Dust& ashes
in God
do we really trust?
nidhi jaiswal
someone told me define yourself!!
i said;
pick up mirror which you see that's about myself!!
real definition,
this is my experience:-about real definition
what does it feel like to be held
not by another body
not by a set of limbs, a chest, a chin
by another soul

what does it feel like
to see truth in another pair of eyes
instead of hidden intentions
instead of absence

what does it feel like
to hear a familiar heartbeat
resounding next to your own
reaching through skin
through bone
two rhythms

what does it feel like
to write poems about
a love that exists
Emily C C
why is everything happening to me now?
can’t you just leave me alone??

I just...

leave me alone
Erin Riley
to bring
my dreams
with me
when I
wake up.
I caught a glimpse of you today. The humidity fastening your dress to your hips. That yellow, summer dress you used to wear for me. The one with exhausted straps that inevitably descend to your arms. Your noncommitted attempts to readjust them, seemingly resigned to your inescapable fate. I always liked that dress. The bend of your knee partially hidden but enough given to entice. The curves of your thighs painted by the wind.

I saw the rose highlights in your hair. I like them. If the sun hadn't washed you in light at that moment I would have never known. They remind me of the fiery passion of your love.

I saw you smile. That's new. I haven't seen that in what feels like an eternity. I saw you reach out. Your delicate hands and slender fingers that used to caress me. The chills throughout my body as you touched me. Then I saw him. But I don't care about him because I caught a glimpse of you today.
Autumn Ehrhardt
What do I see after
The dream is done
Either the still night
Or the morning sun

What do I want
From my daily life
A happy partner
To be a good wife

What do I wish
For the sky above
A clean earth vision
Built with love

What do I need
For the children I teach
To be a priority
Not a dream out of reach

What can I do
For the world so cruel
Write congress letters
Not elect fools

What is the reason
For humanity
To honor each other
Plant a new seed
A poem pretty close after the shut down due to the virus.
I've been waking up feeling I cant speak
Like the tongue I own its ripped out
Ripped out
From my mouth
From my mouth my tongue is ripped out
So I form the words and send them off to you
In a letter
Nostalgia is a funny thing
I often think about;
It's whispers of the past slowly
Drown the present out
Gentle raindrops fall
A melody for my soul
Soothing me, like you
Nat Lipstadt
Late afternoon, tween twilight but before the dusk
in time for afternoon prayers, ******* followed by
the evening service, The Name reached out unto me
to touch my face, wake me from a lifelong slowing slumber.

My man! My good man, I’ve been numbering those days,
you will have no disagreement that you’re quite the closer,
close by, the chapter finale of our story, your living, a well
thumbed novella, enjoyed by many, and a favorite o’mine.

Do not restless rustle, no busing bustle, the Set Table^ cleared,
tabulations done, the sums and dividend distributed, in sync,
your words well distributed, remainders to be dearly shared, saved,
showings of great love, valleys of feeling, these your humble attire.

Look how easy the (our) words come, the fluids of a man for which
we have been long patient be awaiting, the company all in readiness,
for confession and days of permanent new creation, fast beginnings,
think on it, to be called child once more, how glorious this unknown!

Dimensions recorded, measurements tailor-taken, silk tuxedo deep bleu, luxe, a hint of violet, here-presented, patent, the leather for blue suede winged dancing shoes no airport dare ask you remove, before they beg you, say, save grace, just once, pronounce The Name, the one of Seventy!

To walk, talk, rhyme and theorize, to forget and memorize, always refreshing, knowing nothing lasts, except things that last forever, or last never, poems and decisions needing completion, choices, reordering songs loved best, repleting all sorrowed pains, uplifting prayers, hallelujah hymns, last rites...

You, a world to us, a microcosm of a triathlon life, juggling the many, last of a lineage who could^^ pray, making rain, reading poetry to angels, giving comforting absolution for making storms, plagues, tidal waves, volcanoes, concentration camps, death marches, stillborn children, incurable sadness.

Quick when the curtain calls, listen close for the cue, toe the mark,
take position, hands upward joined, eyes down, ahead are fearless words,
a soliloquy lasting hundreds of years, balances aligned, only now you  needed, to make mercy allocations, putting paid next to all my periods, all in place, properly positioned, now comes an  evening song.

then to commence the writing of only love poetry forevermore.

Sabbath May 23
woke from a half-nap, while listening to music heard a certain song, then wrote in a single sitting of thirty minutes

^ Shulchan Aruch
I do not want this sickness
Madness & pain.

The wind burn
The stomach churn
To no return

The fear
The waves
The craves
The maze

Looking up lost
To no cost
To no exhaust.
Flower C
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
Han Drew
You we're my sunshine
But then I remembered that the sun doesn't just shine for one person.
i am myself
i may not be the same me that i was before
but i am still me
and i am still myself
and i am still i

it gets harder
every time
to put myself back together
but isn't that all we are

just fragments

some of us are put together neatly
fitting perfectly like pieces of a puzzle

others are a little haphazard
strips of paper hastily taped

i tape other people together
and i am also the tape
and i tape myself

i am not perfect

but i am me
and i am myself
and i am i.
Qualyxian Quest
So many regrets
So much missing

So much solitude
So little kissing

So few friends
So little blissing

So much sorrow
But I can't stop wishing
Anais Vionet
I want to be a writer -
and like a new poker player -
I'm starting to evaluate my cards.

I post on several poetry sites
I find syncing them kind of hard.

'Cause I'm the model of imperfection
heck, I'm the Edison of mistakes -
a teenager half-heartedly committed
to doing whatever it takes.

Does it help that I'm never happy?
That I constantly make updates?

At times I feel the proverbial cat
chasing its own tail -
but I think I'm making progress
- like a literary snail.
A poem about wanting to be a writer
Flower C
You’re much like the rain,
You can be soft or heavy,
Or kind to my drought.
your presence
is all
i need.
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
Amanda Hawk
Fingertips linger upon skin
I trace my answers
As if my hands are mouths
Tongues lapping at the salt
The sunrise rests upon you
Layers of pink, orange and yellow
Glisten upon your face
And my gaze
Falls into your eyes
Your name
The horizon upon my tongue
And our love, I devour
Slowly eating with every touch
I might seem a bit mystic but I’m good at heart

As a small garden rakes over my eyes and a head digging in and scrapping away

She says,

My heart is like a cleft pomegranate
Bleeding crimson red,
And dripping every seed on the ground
It’s ripe and over-full,

My dissatisfied heart,
My hearts it is more human than I,
More than life itself

My heart cries but my eyes are dry

And behold my friend,
This is what I call my brief tragedy of flesh

So set me free and away
So I can lay at peace
Maria Hernandez
My biggest fear is that


you will see me

the way that

I see myself
Rupert Pip
Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.
Get to know me like I do you; inside and out.
I feel at home within a shadow clouds gloom
The ambiance matches my inner mood
Overcast days challenge the worlds rapid pace
And slows it down
So I feel less out of place
If my fate is to love you
From a distance
Then I'll burn for you
Like a star in your night sky
Bright, steady, reliable
Until the end of time.
and they never knew
they were lost stars,
building their empires
after many lost wars.
Megha Thakur
थोड़ी अलग सी हैं मेरी कहानी,
कुछ सुनाई हैं तुम्हें,
कुछ बाकी हैं सुनानी।
माना इसका कोई अन्त नहीं फिर भी मुकम्मल हैं मेरी कहानी,
जो जी रहीं हूँ वो मेरी हैं,
और जो भूला दी वो थीं अंजानी।
ना कोई मकसद हैं इसका ना कोई सीख हैं मेरी कहानी,
बस इतना जानती हूँ के कभी बेपरवाह,
तों कभी हैं ये रूहानी।
- मेघा ठाकुर
Your fingers clenched between mine
Us walking through the dusk till nine
In an alley where silence rang
You looked at me with a lovely gaze
Blushed at you, I closely clang
You held me tight so tight.
Watching us the moon above
Just couldn't get enough.
Delighted, it continued to relish this sight
Glowed so bright
Even the darkness caught a fright.
Chasing living nightmares,
suffering hell without a care,
baring my heart in the dark,
these days it's hard to tell anyone apart,
running through these fires
dark webs in my mind,
wondering if I've come too far
& if there's enough time
to just run where exisiting isn't so hard,
steadily beginning to believe
I'm where I'm meant to be,
roaming where the wild things are
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)
Joshua Dawang
Bleed to infinity
They say they will

In action they fade away
Like a book without good structure

When they lay out the Three-ger words
Stuck in the air
Because they say they’d bleed
Right until I fall in dust
Aneesh H
I desire a daily verse:
A dose of well-worded fun;
Be it verbose or terse
Wrap it in a witty pun!
Your wisdom avoids touch
But your heart misses presence.
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