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 86° 
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.
 66° 
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)
 52° 
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
 49° 
Luna
How to become a poet:
Let someone rip your soul apart.
And in the need of mending ,
You will replace it with words.
 36° 
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
sturgeon moon hides
behind woolly clouds
fishing at night


Shell✨🐚
 23° 
Shaylie
Beauty bore from pain
Like compromise from war
So many years of bloodshed
Before we can restore
 20° 
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
 17° 
shatteredpoet
i never intended
to take apart
all the pieces
you glued back
together
 15° 
Molly
It strikes, not with a gale,
but with a drizzle of cherry blossoms
and a flurry of gentle chords.
 15° 
Heather
She loves me
He lusts for me
They need me
You long for me
But I am alone
 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.
 14° 
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
 14° 
Yousra Amatullah
We're still fighting life
as if we stand a chance against Death.
 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.
 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
 12° 
Max
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
 12° 
sancus
you take all of the
stars in the night sky with you
whenever you leave.
 12° 
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.
 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° 
Özcan Sh
I wish
her scars were on my heart
and not on her arms.
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° 
a silent chaos
Is pain considered a drug when you keep coming back for it? For more?
 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
 10° 
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
LOVE AND LOVERS

by

TOD HOWARD HAWKS


Chapter 26

"I still suffer from PTSD. I take medications to help me sleep. Those bodies, all those bodies, arms, legs, bodies with no heads, old people, young men, children slaughtered, so many burnt to ashes and blackened bones by ******. Screams as loud as bombs exploding, silence louder than children laughing, a nightmare that has lasted years. And I ordered thousands and thousands and thousands of young men to their deaths, and now I cry myself to sleep. The medals, the ribbons pinned on my chest I came to detest. I have long ago burnt all my uniforms, but I cannot extinguish the horrors I planned and ordered. Love, and only love, gives my some solace. Love is my salvation, my only salvation."

Mr Ly then sat down on the sofa, wiping tears pouring down his checks. Bian and Jon sat on either side of him, holding him, hugging him. Not a word could be said. Only silence could be shared.

Finally, Bian said to her father whom she loved so much, "Father, forgive yourself. Love is the weapon against war. Killing, murdering, mutilating have been the way of human life for millennia, but now you and many others are fighting to right this wrong and bring everlasting peace to Earth."

The sun was beginning to set in Johannesburg. The three walked out on the balcony.

"After we defeated the French, I remember walking with my best friend to the beach. We threw rocks into the ocean. We were just boys having fun. We would roll up our pant legs and walk into the waves, splashing each other with our hands. We laughed. We were boys. Little did we know that we would be next, that so many who had been our childhood friends would also need to fight the fire of battle and death, that so many of them would have to perish."

The sun set below the ridge of Witwatersrand and the three walked back inside.
 9° 
Grace
When I look at you,
I don’t see darkness
I don’t see rain
I don’t see pain

When I speak to you,
I don’t feel sadness
I don’t feel neglect
You always show respect

When I think of you,
It gives me strength
Because you’re so bright
My brightest light

When I dream of you,
I find myself in your arms
Right where I belong
Right where I feel strong

When I fell in love with you,
I knew it was true
Because you drowned my sorrows
And now I can see tomorrow
 9° 
A
Dear death,

I have met life,
He wants me to fight,
But I'm so weak-
So can we meet?
 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.
 9° 
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.
 9° 
Midnight
the night my life changed
i was wearing
a white dress
with blue and red
flowers

and you were wearing
well, actually
it doesn't
matter

the night my life changed
it was dark
and you were drunk
and somehow
it was my fault
this is not my story, but it needs to be heard.
If i were a flea
What would become of me?
Would i simply be
An itch
That you had to scratch
As i nestled
Within your thatch
Or drown in a flood
As i quaffed on your blood
Or nestled within the hair
Of your cat so fair
As you view it by the fire
Scratching away like a feline choir
Or jump about with springs on my toes
Jumping so high, i could nibble your nose
But not to be
Being a flea
Is not for me

by Jemia
 8° 
Brian Turner
Can you separate a man from his art?
Can you see under his skin?
Do your judge his art by his views?
Look under yours to see what is true
Why do we judge a piece of art by the artists views?
 8° 
Caroline Shank
Next Spring I will move.  The Wisconsin
winds will sweep me from this house
of yours where I no longer belong.

You climbed the lattice of the cold
Winter.  I was your bounty.  Now
I can leave the brown sugar color
of this apartment. There are scrapes
on white walls from your wheelchair.

The family will not care and for that,
I will not ask.  

I am through writing thank you notes
and receiving the few callers who
patted me for your loss.

Spring is too far away for intimate
details.  The shaking tree limbs
will be quiet and the annual
equinox will welcome new growth
and knitted sorrows.

We were an uninvolved lot,
the children and you and I.  

So I will write again
on my calendar.  No one will ever
remember that it was I who took
your hand,

your heart,

your suffering

to the last
quiet sigh.



Caroline Shank
 8° 
Rama Krsna
the nectar of love
only comes with
the poison of pain,
two for the exorbitant price of one

standing
at the chasm of life and death
destroyed by love
grief remains as life’s sole friend

the memories of love
now belong to time
and this aging body to the five elements.

© 2019
 8° 
Emma P
Sun
When I say
that you are my Sun,
I don’t mean that you are
Luminous,
Brilliant,
Gilded,
Beautiful,
Bold,
Warm,
Or even the center of my universe.
I simply mean that
I cannot look at you
Without hurting
 8° 
Antony Glaser
I am touch.
A rinse of saffron rice.
parable on a summers day.
A green leaf waiting to wilt.

I am journey.
From the depths of the oceans.
To rim of the bay.

The gentle blow of the wind,
that picks up the aroma of your wine.
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