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 1209° 
Jeanette
I.
My son does not understand fear,
he is 3,
he thinks in color,
he believes in magic,
he says that our dog Smokey
controls the weather.

Watch him as he goes!
Jumping over cracks on sidewalks,
pretending to fly,
attempting to get near electric outlets
because he saw them spark once,
and fire,
fire is cool!

"Watch me Mommy!

watch me."

II.
Some days I stay in bed all day,
I tell everyone I am catching a cold,
a sinus infection,
another migraine again.

It is easier to lie than to explain,
that it is too difficult to shower,
to find an outfit, to brush my hair,
to make food,
to chew it.

Friends jokingly call me a hypochondriac,
my Mother thinks I am mellow dramatic,
My son asks me if I need my temperature checked.

It is too honest to say,
"I am fighting monsters, and they won today."
Who would believe me if I did?

We are taught since childhood
to not believe in the things
we can not see.

III.
The day we buried my Grandfather,
I wore my favorite gray dress,
I was scared to taint it
with such a sad memory,
but I was 8 months pregnant
and nothing else fit.

We threw dirt in a hole
as three strangers watched us grieve.
They stood with shovels ready to do their jobs,
ready to get home to their loved ones.  

All I could think about was how much
it aches to love anyone,
even in the good times, it aches.
Loss dances outside our window
like flames, waiting to engulf.

I vowed to protect my child
from any unnecessary pain,
I vowed to make him feel safe.

Now I fear I am the one
tainting him in gray.

IV.
Not every day is bad,
most days are nice, in fact,
some days are so good
that the bad ones seem
like distant memories.

On the good days I feel brave,
brave like my son;

I tickle his tummy and show him
which lights are stars, which are planets,
and tell him I love him, always,
no matter what.
 411° 
yashasweedas
As chaos takes over the world and death is at rise,
I feel fortunate to be alive,
To witness the meek majestic September sky.
A short minimalist poem for the month of September🍂
 404° 
Kara Jean
The rivers knows me,
an aspiration with pain thrown in

She wants to exist
Feeding the wild, rapidly free

Man has his own fate
He takes her rights

She fights,
soaking up every drop from the sky

He needs to feed the envy

She has dry tears in her muddy puddle up fear

Mocked by the image of life,
she had once thrived
  
The world turns an eye in disgust

Her only objective was to nourish and love
 206° 
Steve Page
I lift my pen from the page
and smell the coming rain
I hear the rising wind
and sense the gathering pain

and as the scouting drizzle coats my face
I smile, because I have my compass
I have a North Star and the maps I made
when I came this way before

I know I can navigate these hills
and I can form a new stanza
to take me through to the meadows
that wait for me there
I navigate by poetry
 151° 
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!
 138° 
Äŧül
Take it,
Or leave it.

It's your choice,
Be wise.
My HP Poem #1886
©Atul Kaushal
 132° 
Heinz Lunch
Yesterday was not yesterday,
but twenty years ago
when i met you
one month before
your seventeenth birthday.
Tomorrow is not tomorrow,
but twenty years later
when i left you
one month before
your seventeenth birthday.
 123° 
icarus
~

in our words
we are made immortal
across an ocean of stars
through the window of time
the past is but a bridge
we cross in our mind
each night i walk silent
through darkness i tread
between this world
and another;
to find you in my head

~
on golden shores, where the ocean swallows the sun, wait for me my love; for i will return.
 103° 
Jennifer Ale
All that really matters is You and I
Our hearts juxtaposed
flutter and fly high

I call once and you say
My beloved, on this day...

Our moons have crash-landed
amongst billions of burning stars
Can we leave this galaxy
to discover the truth of who we are?


Jennifer Alé
thoughts by a river
 99° 
Yenson
in the myths of nonsensical
sits a sensical
where nonsensical is nonsensical
that's sense
consciousness and objective perception
these are alien
to nonsensical
for nonsensical is always nonsensical
it's that black
and white
 91° 
keila skie
I know
You care about me
10 more people do
Yet I can't get rid
Of this feeling
Of doom

I know
I have you
10 more people too
Yet I can't find a person
To talk to
late at night
He
Broke my wings
So I couldn’t

Fly

So I stole his soul
So he couldn’t

Die
 68° 
Scarlett
I saw a predator in the bathroom mirror
or perhaps it was just confident prey
 62° 
Naveen Malhotra
They aren't stupid
Stupid things don't bother them
Turn them inside out
Mutilated they're
They don't regret anything
It's their way to great fun
They aren't stupid
Stupid things don't bother them
They don't let anybody bring them down
When they can do it themself
They aren't stupid
Stupid things don't bother them
 53° 
mydesirelines
a sudden loneliness
rushed into me
and I stopped still.
as I froze,
I can clearly see now
my poem standing along with me.
 
she shrugged
and kept walking ahead
as I remain confined,
and left to watch her,
getting demystified.
 
moments later
as she paused, turned
and looked back at me.
I ran
like a lost child
and clinched her
never,
never
to feel lonely
ever
again.
as a poet, you feel lonely until your poem finds you and you find her
 53° 
Twan
tonight I saw both

sides are right

and both

sides are wrong



what do you

want from

the truth



for you

– to be right?



for me

– to be wrong?



truth

is easy



reality,

it is not
 47° 
ibkreator
and that's perfectly accurate
as its not yours

and your only job is to get you
 38° 
Abby
Not everything needs a poem
Sometimes
it’s already

good enough.
 37° 
Norman Crane
Wisdom carved in stone
is lost / what we know we know
under an accumulation of moss
 37° 
Marya123
If I were a poem
I'd be made of words
That only you'd understand.
 36° 
Charleigh Huston
I am an addict -
For your pain
Your love,
Your roses,
Your touch;

I am a house of cards -
Full of pain
I fall apart
Like rain

But you -
Are to blame
For my;

Addiction to pain
 35° 
Arek
Goodbye Poetry
A friend of mine told me
I write when I’m sad
She said it is as if I am in pain
And I said when I write it rains
When I put the pen on paper the clouds get dark
And when I stop
The birds of the sky sings
Coming out to play as the sun is out
 33° 
Natalie
Monsters
They’re scary
Some are in the closet
Some are under the bed
But you want to know a secret
The scariest monsters
Are in our heads
I am my own monster
 31° 
Mystic Ink Plus
Pale face
Blur vision
Grey world
Heavy breathe
Cold sweat
Dry cry
Frozen feet
Open wound
Closed doors
Cursed time
Crossed paths
Silent night
Stolen light
Shattered soul
Haunting shadow
End of a hope
Death of a dream
No one cares
Genre: Dark Observational
Theme: Learned the hard way
 31° 
Anna Adler
"An angel,"
I wept,
Seeing through bloodshot eyes,
"My angel!",
I cried with a sigh.

But my love,
In a world
Where humanity bleeds,
Sins do not skip you and I.
 30° 
Ashley Jerome
Red were the roses, the ones I left on your casket,
Orange were the leaves, the ones in your tree,
Yellow were the bruises, the ones that covered you head-to-toe,
Green were the stains, the ones left on the hems of your jeans,
Blue were your lips, the day you were found in your noose,
Indigo was the night sky, that night that you died,
Violet was that bruise, the one you wore around your neck
by Alice Thyne, but i can relate so much
 30° 
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
 29° 
Kamila Salimova
I want to catch loving looks,
To feel adoration and care,
Vainly try to resist the pull,
Because of the feelings shared.

I want heart-warming hugs,
Soft lips' sensitive touch,
All-night-long talks under the stars,
Honesty, happiness, trust.

I want to drown in the warmth of eyes
To hear words coming from heart.
I want to break my armors' ice
And fall deeply and deeply in love.
 29° 
Kerli Tulva
Is there an edge of forever
the virtuoso about to reclaim
the leap we try to endeavour
and ceaselessly try to aim.
When she fell
she could feel
the light, its warmth
its happiness
and its stability
she blinked
and she was
plunged into darkness
a darkness that
drowned her
a darkness that
was a struggle
consuming her life
 26° 
Yanamari
I stand facing my reflection
Gaze acting as a barrier
I would reach forward to reach you
But I hesitate lest you withdraw from my touch
My heart clenched and my eyes hold back
And if I could comfort you, if the warmth of my heart could reach you
We would be one
And yet whisps and words trace their fingers along my mind
Humming a tune my mind and heart fall into step with uneasily
And she strokes my face to will my heart and mind out of the tune
But the tune is continuous, seeded and unwavering
 26° 
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.
 25° 
Jessica Patrick
I watched the moon,
last night,
it danced through,
the tree limbs,
onto my,
bare skin.
I pondered,
if maybe,
you too held,
ballets,
across your chest.
 25° 
REY
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 like *******.
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.
 25° 
Megan H
Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?
I'm sorry I haven't written a while! Love you all
 24° 
MicMag
sometimes you just
gotta sit down and write
just grab the apple
and take a bite
just take a leap
into the dark night

if you want to be a poet
you gotta write poems
let the words go
wherever the wind blows em

sometimes your lines will ****
other times blow you away
but stay firm on that writing path
don't be led astray
by laziness and perfectionism
saying you can't do it
don't give in, knock em down
push yourself right through it

let the poem be what it is
let its rhymes ring true
knowing as much
as you're writing the poem
it's also writing you
success comes
through failure
improvement comes
through the grind
go ahead
write bad poems
they'll make you better
in due time
The light of day today
is so heavy and dream-like
Makes me feel hazy,
sweetly lazy
has a weird effect in me
It makes me feel good and wrong
funny ways that I've got

It speaks about you and me
hidden in a room, naked, nothing at all
but us. And I want to be there, I do.
Watching the world drip, in our burning embrace.
The rain washes my pain away.

It speaks about the despair I felt at 15
or maybe before even
and how the rain lifted the weight
with its oppressive pretty greys
The rain washes my pain away.

The rain lulls me into your arms
it promises a Sun.
The rain pushes me places
everything I am
or everything I've been?
 24° 
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.
 23° 
preston


A funny thing about forever..
--it never, ever ends..

and so   neither will we.

The spirit is free from
all of this-- it will  always
remain lit..

only the flesh goes dark  
as we  leave  its earth-laden husk, behind..

But the core-heart of Love's true ache  will always,
always Remain.


In the calling out to one another
of the lovers up and down the strand
In the sound of the waves and the cries
of the seagulls, circling the sand
In the fragments of the songs
carried down the wind from some radio
In the murmuring of the city in the distance
ominous and low..

I hear the sound of the world  where we played
And the far too simple beauty of the promises we made

If you ever need holding
call my name, and I'll be there
If you ever need holding
and no holding back,  I'll see you through-

Sky, blue and black

https://youtu.be/GAu7gh7xoJo
xoxo
 23° 
caroline
“Social media is taking over our lives,”
she tweeted angrily.
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