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Samreena Lodhi
i wrote this poem in 2003, when i was in school. It was a poem writing task by my English Teacher.
We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Please don't ever become a stranger,
whose laugh I can recognize anywhere.
I feel like I've lost a piece of me.
I don't know when.
I don't know where, or how.

Maybe, I dropped it in broad daylight.
Maybe, someone stole it in the night.


Come back,
little piece,

You leave me an empty
fragile chrysalis flaking
away little bit by little bit a

Jigsaw falling out of place.
BJ Donovan
We Poets

   We poets feel more deeply
   and we can't just let it go.
   Empathy's in our DNA and
   we're here to vent your pain.

   We live near Right Place
   and Right Time. It's empty.
   The corner of Broken Dreams
   and Broken Hearts is crowded.

   We often die at our own hand
   because the burden is too great.
   Read our prayers and weep softly
   for our hope stained souls.
As I cOmE dOwN
Changed; time has not
BrEtHlEsS pAiN
ever not; was vision ever slurred?
It WaS jUsT a ThOuGhT
Such a careless thought.
I can't write poetry anymore, I just can't
When you told me you were sick of me
Sick of love, sick of everything.
Our past. Our future. Sick of it all.

So this is how you left me.
We could have
talked. You could have told me I stepped
over the line. I could have changed.

Instead of fixing we are too used to
calling it quits.
We'd rather watch ourselves burn than
to change and compromise.

I wrapped myself up in my insecurities
Forged a knife out of it
stabbed in your  heart.
I was too caught up in my own
illusion of fun to notice you were gone

You were too used to being on top to
allow a wild animal challenge you up
You wouldn't allow your ego to bend
down to your heart

We loved like it's forever, if forever meant
59 days, countless kisses, and two broken
to NW. Goodbye
Edgel Escomen
It seems no one care
In the city of despair
When few always proclaim
The century of worst dreams.

I get no point
Why should I return
Opportunities are overwhelming
Outside the shell of aching.

A calling from God
For a gift of gab
To say a word
Of a stories untold.

Lies in a green grass dip
To view a woman from a sleep
Wake up for your call
You have to win more souls.

A land of breeze
A lion den should seize
A sacrificial to be
Is that what You prepare for me?
i want to get high in foreign cities
travel to places i have yet to lay my eyes on
pack a bag and take off, my only motive to feel free
i want to kiss lovers on pavement my toes have never touched
beneath trees rooted with legends in their leaves
ensuring everlasting love
and i want to feel light, rather than weighed down
anchored to one small town
i want to drop everything and get away
to places where time is altered
and the stars are always present
whether it be in the night sky or people's eyes
i want to fall in love with strangers, cities, and scenes
i crave so deeply to feel free
to start anew

but at the same time
i want you to come too

Damian Murphy
Live not the life that others think you should ;
Live instead the life that you yourself would.
Your lips are so foreign,

I'd like to kiss them until they become home.
it was at the age of twenty one
where I learnt that people change

it was at the age of twenty one
where I bid goodbye to my youth

it was at the age of twenty one
where I realize that my BFFs are acting strange

it was at the age of twenty one
where I learnt the truth

that this year
I'm celebrating my birthday alone
Via Atika
i'm so glad that you are happy
but sadly,
i'm not the reasons behind it.
i smiled.
I went to bed and woke in the middle of the night thinking I heard someone cry, thinking I myself was weeping, and I felt my face and it was dry.

Then I looked at the window and thought: Why, yes, it's just the rain, the rain, always the rain, and turned over, sadder still, and fumbled about for my dripping sleep and tried to slip it back on...
No one can know your pain
Not nearly as well as yourself
But the rope won't take it away
It just gives it to someone else
Mind like an ocean
Thoughts constantly sinking deep
Swishing, swirling, gone
Knave of Hearts
I opened my eyes to see; celeste sky,
stretching over the cyan sea,
as the golden sun kissed
the aurelian sands of the shore,
I heard a giggle of a lavender blush bride,
blinked and was awestruck, as the emerald sweat
of hard work reflected in chartreuse fields.
The glow of amber in faiths they lit,
with a touch of mahogany of rust.
Then I spoke to the history of past and
twilight caged scarlet- folly darklings to groovy beats.

I experienced a realm of colors & the dawn of life
peak of history & paradise like a craving knife.
Forever more I breathe Goa.
Cyprian Van Dyke
The light turns red,
But the sun stays yellow.
He steps on the gas,
And this is how it goes.

He tells her how he feels
And she blows her horn.
She won’t hit the breaks.
& she won’t let him over.

The next light turns green,
But the sun stays yellow.
He steps on the gas,
And this is how it goes.

He tells her he’s sorry
And she blows her horn.
But won’t hit the breaks.
& still won’t let him over.

The next light turns yellow,
But the sun stays yellow.
He slowly hits the breaks
And this is how it goes.

He says hello.
She says hello.
She hits the breaks.
The light turns green,
And she lets him over.
March 18, 2018
Getting over a slight writer's block.
Hope to be back to normal soon.
If I lay still enough
here in this pitch black vacuum
they call my room.
If I lay still enough
will I disappear?
Fade into the background
mist into memory.

The dark is not that bad
If you imagine it a sun
evaporate that you can't contain
The dark is soothing
If you think of it as medicine
as solace.
A pocket of space
where nothing exists
And you with it

I can lay here, calm
Not afraid of monsters lurking
The only real monsters live inside
They speak too loud.
The darkness crushes all
And I let it

In my pitch black room
I don't exist
And no one can say goodbye
Sometimes you just want to disappear.
I'm sorry I cut you
I'm sorry you dared
to love all my sharp edges.
I'm sorry you cared.

I'm sorry you're bleeding,
I'm sorry you're hurt.
But I warned you to go,
to stay on alert.

I'm sorry I yelled.
I'm sorry I screamed.
I'm sorry for each word.
Uselessly obscene.

I'm sorry you're crying.
I'm sorry you're sad.
I'm sorry you had
to see me when I'm mad.

I'm sorry I broke you,
that you still can't see.
The broken one?
It's always been me.
The boy looks strong from the outside,
although he is broken inside, he does not show his feelings as he is broken inside because the boy doesn´t want to see his beloved sad
that's why he does not give up fighting so he can conjure up a smile on their faces and thus his broken parts are rebuilt together thanks to just a simple smile.
If I die today,
Would tears flow,
like a rushing river?
Or the clouds weep,
screaming in thunder?
Would the earth break,
shaking in anger?
Will the world care?
And for a moment,
forget laughter?

If I'm down
to my final heartbeat.
Will anyone be there,
sitting beside me?
When I draw,
the very last breath.
Will you hold my hand,
and feel upset?

If I go,
without saying goodbye.
I want you to know,
that I really tried.
To live and love,
to endure and smile.
To find the truth,
in this realm of lies.

If I'm fated
of leaving soon
to talk with God,
in his glowing room.
I'll be rejoicing,
when I face my doom.
Even I end like a flower,
that withered,
before it blooms.

If inside the casket I lay,
Would there any heaven for me to stay?
Or will my sins, demand me to pay?
Don't even know, how much this life has weighed.

If it's my time, to step on the scale.
Done of my part, in this play.
A lot of regrets,
but nothing more to say.
Wish me luck.
If I die today.
This is not a love poem
this is an I love you do you love me like
I love you poem
do you know me like
you think you do poem
this is a would you be disappointed
if you did poem
an I have been feeling the chilling of the air
and I cant tell if it is just the fault of the season
or if you, too, are cooling
whatever heat you had for me
browning and falling and
crumbling between my fingers
like the leaves of these oak trees
in november poem
a what would I need to do to keep us warm poem
and this is also
an I may be completely mistaken poem
an it was seventy degrees today poem
this is a show me I am completely mistaken poem
Nat Lipstadt
Dear Lord:

I am confused.

My life is Damocles,
My name is unimportant,
My sword's thread stretched
thinner than thin,
barely a 10 word poem
slender wide.

This body's homeland,
this deluded tired,
where my physic resides,
is indeed nominated accurately:


Yet I am not alone,
though cut off in ways,
few can comprehend.


withdrawn but not by choice,
the loveliness of life
escapes and
eluded and yet,
I still believe...

a disciplined disciple,
my faith constant,
in this,
your awful trials and failed tests,
to me, success eludes,
and life deludes.

tested beyond exhaustion,
you let me sojourn for a few brief, precious,
every-days in a multi-windowed world
where the entry fee is simply
the freedom of words
but well defined,
in perfect clarity.

Rest and restlessness no longer debate.

defeated has departed for more hospitable climes.

has won,
I rail not, swearing faith,
debate not your choices for us,
long ago,
surrendered that incomprehensible struggle.

Here I am
still here,
worn but standing in
your verbal grace.

One comfort
and it helps me
and for that,
I bear the knowledge and the burden of what ails all humans,
and what can bring them comfort unceasing..

Gifts so small  
that that some
single lettered,
make up a whole

here is me,


bowed, boxed, bowled over
and still bowing,
on so many days
in so many ways,
and in those the few hours
when the mind refuses
the opportunity to sleep,
hope tries to keep itself seeded

for here is  found,


where sonnets bloom,
where one can draw welled fresh water comfort
from the words of poetry
with which you surround us,
letting me be reborn in hope ever so small,
daily, like you

The misbalance of life,
where the justice scales
seem weighted all wrong,
for in the glory of human word
is a world real and imaginary,
this poetry, this art,
so weighty this god gift to humans,
in its beauteous weightlessness,
gives me shelter so brief,
gives me shelter so grand,
that though my greatest burdens accursed,
so much suffering surrounded-sounded,

these shared words
and the ones
you gift me,
makes all these woeful waves
tamed and becalmed,
the scales of tribulation lose

Through these words,
breathe through them,
once again,
rest and strength,
restored and returned
in ever small lettered says
and your incomprehensible
in humans,
thus stored for shared safekeeping,
is mine to share and shared.

So many the mysteries,
but this above all I cannot comprehend,
how can so many not see,
how so many abuse
so carelessly,
that greatest gift
after life itself,
the restorative words
so plentiful,
you have planted
within the earth of our
human existence.
for our fellow poet, Timothy, so long overdue this, my guilt finally expiated...ten times better than the best, he...my obligations won't let me leave as fast as I want to...

Tiana Marie
She was like music,
and I longed to dance.

Her heart was the beat,
and I begged for the chance.

Her words were the vocals,
and I was put in a trance.

Her smile was the melody,
and I fell in love at first glance.
I met a lady in red with glasses on
She sits near the heavy stone
as i enter the room
she smiles and waved her hand
Grand Piano
Step 1: Get out of bed
Step 2: Look in the mirror
Step 3: Practice your smile
Step 4: Eyedrops to hide the red eyes
Step 5: Conceal the dark circles
Step 6: Breathe
The curtains are almost up
Step 7: Lock down the pain
Step 8: Ignore the weight on your chest
Step 9: Silence the screams inside of your mind
Step 10: Choke down the sobs in your throat
Step 11: Ignore the stinging in your eyes
Step 12: Swallow past the tightness in your throat
You’ve put on this show a million times
Step 13: Don’t let them see
Times up. Curtains up. Camera rolling
You know how when you’re not ok but you try so hard to pretend you’re ok that it becomes a ritual
How can you want to die in a world so fiercely beautiful?
Where rain comes out of no where and thunder claps loudly.
Where even night, through the stars lacks no light.
How can you want to die in a world where people love you when you cant for yourself?
Where hope claws through despair.
How can you want to die in a world so wide and new?
Where the sun shines warm on your face.
Where the cold wakes up your soul.
How can you want to die when there are so many reasons to stay alive?
This was written while i was in a mental hospital struggling with the old question of to be or not to be.
Ciel Noir
We are such            clever creatures to divide
Most everything             into its different sides
With chaos versus             order, dark and light
The stark duality of         wrong and right
We even split the very        world in two
With human versus human,       we and you
But still no matter how much      we divide
Each thing has infinitely many      sides
Dua Kim
I lie.
I lie that I'm happy.
I lie that I don't cry.
I lie that I feel like flying,
When I feel I wanna die.
I lie that I'm contented,
I lie I'm glad to be alive,
When in reality,
I'm tired of life.
I lie a lot,
So much that
It's confusing me as well
But the biggest lie I tell is,
"I'm fine."
Your naked body
Pressed on mine
We kissed

I thought that
I should feel

Thrill, euphoria
Lust, love
Or bliss

But no
I felt
And I'm very sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me.  You are everything I have ever wanted, but for some reason touching you leaves me blank.  I feel nothing.  And I am sorry.
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
JJsbdksndkkdmxmjshJustletmediemmmkbhbxjdnxnbdjxbdnxnnxnxnImsotire­dofthisnsjs nkksbdndnbdthese tears wontstopjdjdnn znjsnndudndkdknfkdmssnfnjdndnndbdbdbdnWhythepainstilllivesin myheartjjxnxjxjdn mykdjdvjsndjcjndndncnxkxnkxndkdkjdnskxhjshdjddndeImsofuckingtired­msnndksnxonshxidnkxndjsjdbjdkslmsndjjdbdisbdjjdksndjdhbsndnndjdjd­ndnd

Youllneverunderstand me
the moment a poet
falls in love with you

is the moment
you live

f o r e v e r
I kept chasing
you, as if
you were
a distant dream.
But dreams
are not always
Sometimes, we have
nightmares too.
When did those dreams turned into nightmares? When did I stop believing in the magic of dreams?
Jeff S
mea maxima culpa:

i am so much 
like a breadbox born.

bowing over time, as things do get

stale, my cracks christening
unwitting loaves with light

already risen.

i hear the newer ones 

come with their own condiments

and an irredeemable crust.

the bread, I mean. 

They don’t make we

breadboxes anymore.
sitting underneath the stairs, i realized suddenly:
i could die here.

i could die here,
and would anyone know?
i could die here, under the dirty staircase,
and nothing would change.

a friend of mine came for me eventually;

someone i don't know too well,
but well enough.

and she squeezed my hand and told me,
"you're not alone."

as my breathing grew ragged and my chest constricted and my eyes ached, i belatedly realized that was the most terrifying prospect of all.
only thing worse than feeling alone is knowing that so many others feel alone... hope everyone out there is feeling loved.
Coraline Hatter
I like it old-school
receiving handwritten love letters with coffee stains on the paper
putting a music-mix together with songs that remind me of us
going on a simple yet lovely coffee date on a rainy day
watching the sunset together even if it's just out of your window
I know it's not your thing,
but I love stuff like that.
Samantha Jane
Bodies may be temples
but all are ruins
at your
Fire Sardothien
You ripped it
my pretty little heart -
but that's okay because
now I can pin it
to a wall
and scream
This Is Art.
The Infinite Seas
I stopped writing.
Not because I fell out of love with it...
My emotions just seemed to disappear.

I started a new medication.
The doctor said it would help my panic disorder, and it did.
I took that pill, like my mother talks to God (every morning).

When I went back to the doctor she said we had to up the dosage because apparently having 2 panic attacks a week still isn't okay.
I told her that when I woke up this morning I got out of bed without crying, but she didn't consider that as much of a victory as I did.

When I was put on a higher dosage, my emotions shut down.
After a few weeks I stopped crying, my OCD got better, my panic attacks were gone, and I could even go into the student union of my college campus without my heart trying to win a race against my thoughts.

I could breathe.

But, I also stopped having fun.
I felt like a stranger in my own body.
My emotions found the exit on the plane and jumped, never to be found again.

Since when did being able to breathe require me to feel like this?
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