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 98° 
Thomas Alan
our love fell apart
like a glass you threw across the room

but I am tired
of cutting my fingers
trying to piece it back together
 59° 
Anastasia
I'm
Tired
Of
B
R
E
A
T
H
I
N
G

Tired of

S
E
   E
    I
     N
       G

This hatred in humanity
And
The
Delicates
Being

T    O     R    N

Apart
So quickly
Without listening
To their glistening
Fragile
Beautiful words
I'm sorry, beautiful people. You all are very much so.
 46° 
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)
 26° 
V
If you don't heal what hurt you,

You'll bleed on people who didn't cut you.
</3
 16° 
A
I can’t decide
if I’m comforted by the fact
that every thought  
I’ve ever had
has probably been had
before

And I don’t know
which is worse
That we are, perhaps
incredibly,
undeniably
not special at all
Or that we incredibly,
undeniably
are
June 21, 2019
 15° 
FrankieM
I can only pour so much
Of myself into you
You say I'm half empty
I say I'm half full

It's hard to stay gentle
When you've been so cruel
I say I'm in love
You say I'm a fool
 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° 
Delton Peele
From dark Iniquities to open pleasantries
What ever floats to the top of your dreams.
A deep velvet crush?
Could it be ?
Or is it an obsession to hear
Your arch nemesis screams'?
A painful memory
creates a loquacious bleed .
Purest intent kept
Protected or proclaimed
Remains in the heart of one
Whose pen flows from their veins
Syntax in  ambivalence
"hieroglyphic script"
Mystic cryptic punny things
Secretly lie in between ......

The lines
Words for keys .....

Hypnotic reads these,
Pains or pleasure awakes the mind
Break the grind
Treasure
lexicons asylum
mercurochrome for you soul
Time to let go some healing words of your own ......
I love you poetry .....
This one's for you ......
 14° 
David P Carroll
On a snowy Christmas night
And the little children are smiling
So bright and Santa Claus was hear
Last night and there's happiness
Peace and love in the air tonight
And there's parties and songs
Sung all through the night
And Everyone is getting drunk all
Through the snowy Christmas Night and the colorful lights that Twinkle on the Christmas tree
And Christmas is a special
Time of year and the sadness
We had along the way and
Christmas is filled with special Joys and so much love and
We're wrapped in the excitement of it all and I wish you all a very
Merry Christmas
And a beautiful and
Peaceful Happy New Year to.
For Everyone's Loved Ones
Who Didn't Make It R.I.P. ❤️❤️
 14° 
sun
she soaks herself in his hurt
and it d
            r
            i
            p                
     ­       s                
                         o
                         u
                          t

of him
ever so slowly,
infecting her.
all she wanted was for him to be
drained
so he could live without pain
but now, she thinks
living is pain.
 14° 
Jordan Ray

           Love                                  is                      
wr­itten                    in                    stone
       which                                slowly
             fades                          to
                   sand                   ..                                          
                    ­     ..                 ..
                             . . . . . . .
                              . . . . . .
                                . . . .
                                  . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
 13° 
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° 
Rubén Darío
¿Qué signo haces, oh Cisne, con tu encorvado cuello
al paso de los tristes y errantes soñadores?
¿Por qué tan silencioso de ser blanco y ser bello,
tiránico a las aguas e impasible a las flores?Yo te saludo ahora como en versos latinos
te saludara antaño Publio Ovidio Nasón.
Los mismos ruiseñores cantan los mismos trinos,
y en diferentes lenguas es la misma canción.A vosotros mi lengua no debe ser extraña.
A Garcilaso visteis, acaso, alguna vez...
Soy un hijo de América, soy un nieto de España...
Quevedo pudo hablaros en verso en Aranjuez...Cisnes, los abanicos de vuestras alas frescas
den a las frentes pálidas sus caricias más puras
y alejen vuestras blancas figuras pintorescas
de nuestras mentes tristes las ideas oscuras.Brumas septentrionales nos llenan de tristezas,
se mueren nuestras rosas, se agotan nuestras palmas,
casi no hay ilusiones para nuestras cabezas,
y somos los mendigos de nuestras pobres almas.Nos predican la guerra con águilas feroces,
gerifaltes de antaño revienen a los puños,
mas no brillan las glorias de las antiguas hoces,
ni hay Rodrigos ni Jaimes, ni hay Alfonsos ni Nuños.Faltos del alimento que dan las grandes cosas,
¿qué haremos los poetas sino buscar tus lagos?
A falta de laureles son muy dulces las rosas,
y a falta de victorias busquemos los halagos.La América española como la España entera
fija está en el Oriente de su fatal destino;
yo interrogo a la Esfinge que el porvenir espera
con la interrogación de tu cuello divino.¿Seremos entregados a los bárbaros fieros?
¿Tantos millones de hombres hablaremos inglés?
¿Ya no hay nobles hidalgos ni bravos caballeros?
¿Callaremos ahora para llorar después?He lanzado mi grito, Cisnes, entre vosotros
que habéis sido los fieles en la desilusión,
mientras siento una fuga de americanos potros
y el estertor postrero de un caduco león......Y un cisne ***** dijo: «La noche anuncia el día».
Y uno blanco: «¡La aurora es inmortal! ¡La aurora
es inmortal!» ¡Oh tierras de sol y de armonía,
aún guarda la Esperanza la caja de Pandora!
 13° 
neha
remember when we were carefree
and nothing used to worry me
the neighbourhood was my kingdom
and the front yard was my palace

we used to play pretend
worlds of magic and fantasy
we made up spells and slayed dragons
but now i’m fighting my mind’s demons

ignorance was b l i s s
when did we become like this?
 12° 
Lexie
Parasite to my peace
Shadow man
Sinking his teeth
Into my solid living
He is liquid in memory
I, semi-permeable in my strength
Do not let me slip
Pull me from the edge
 12° 
Kyra
A god sneezed and here we are.
One cosmic cough away from disaster.
 12° 
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° 
Hastfan
Dad
Dad heard but never listened
Looked but never saw

Time spent was time wasted
And silence was our loudest talk

Money given was always taken
Reclamation for timeless thoughts

Dad went but never waited
Answered but never called

When time was there for us to talk
Dad drank,
and silence won once more
 12° 
Teemers
I only write,
when
I am in love
or
Falling apart.
 11° 
Kayla Gallant
My mind is much like the sea
The deeper you go
The darker it gets
Rough outline, might expand at a later date ❤️
 11° 
Max
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
 10° 
Madds
It’s the kind of sadness where your rib cage
Contorts
And twists and
Snaps.

Depression doesn’t float through my veins
It crawls through my bones, with dagger hands
And winding movements.

I cannot breathe.

And yet there was nothing taken from me.
But then again you took everything all at once the moment you looked in my eyes, covered my mouth and forced me down.

I don’t know why your smell still lingers in my every thought.

I’m not scared anymore.
 10° 
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.
 10° 
Veda Laurenski
You are the sea.
You are cruel.
You are cold.
And I love you.
 10° 
sofolo
Some tethers cannot be severed. I remind myself of this amidst the distance. A ******* doctor and his husband stitch. Sometimes a father impedes the celestial bond of a boy and his mama. And that’s a *****. That’s a trauma. But the stars can heal us. Mothers. Sons. Papa’s too. I want to shatter every tradition. Let the blooded cords renew. I’m here. I never left. My honesty is not a theft. I just want your love…not a miracle. And there is nothing more biblical than that which is umbilical.
 10° 
Enzo
The weirdest dream
I ever had
was you
not being in it
 10° 
Ruth Nadler-Nir
Tend to me
Like a thirsty garden once forgotten
Sing to me
Like a crying infant, pure and innocent
Hug me
Like an old friend years after
Look at me
Like an abstract painting, more complex with each glance
Touch me
Like the the cold steel strings of your guitar
Love me
Like you did before
I poem I wrote early last year while thinking about with my ongoing need for co-dependence
 9° 
Calli Kirra
Hands swift, taught, carving.
Aurora borealis on my open back
Thought we might name our girl the same
Crashing into the world with your eyes
Flashing green
Loud, humanly
Through our chests and the sky

All of the rivers that led us here
Began clear
We knew our way like our tongues know our teeth
Like losing a soul tears the muscle
Before it leaves
 9° 
Mancy
You may not be
The moon or
A star or
The sun
Beaming vision to the world.

But to me
You are
The cute little
Firefly
Casting hope in me.
¡Criollo, no: ¡Criollazo!
Canta en el tono que rasques.
Le llaman "El Amigazo",
Su nombre: ¡PORFIRIO VÁSQUEZ!

Escúcheme, por favor,
escúcheme aunque no quiera:
cómo canta marinera,
yo lo creo un trovador.
Soy su fiel admirador,
lo oí y le di un abrazo;
donde él fui pasito a paso
por sentir su melodía.
Le digo, desde ese día
¡criollo, no: ¡Criollazo...!

Es el adjetivo justo
que merece un decimista,
zapateador, jaranista,
compositor de buen gusto.
Perdóname si te asusto
pero por Dios, no me atasques,
que aunque la lengua me masques
repetiré que es tan ducho
que sin esforzarse mucho
canta en el tono que rasques.

Riqueza debía tener
mas Dios le dará otro premio,
pues por su alma de bohemio
como si fuera un deber,
gozó más con proteger
al que le tendió su brazo.
Hoy comentan este caso
los que de él han recibido,
y en un geto agradecido
le llaman "El Amigazo".

Cuando le llegue el momento...
-y esto no es un mal presagio-,
como póstumo sufragio
le haremos un monumento.
Ruego al que grabe el cemento
que con buen cincel recalque
y en un ángulo le marque,
donde la piedra resista,
para que por siempre exista
su nombre: ¡PORFIRIO VÁSQUEZ!
 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° 
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
a serendipity
a cloak of invisibility
a long message of sorry
a place to go when he feels weary
a flower on the road people may find pretty
a page on the book he keeps reading over
a girl he wanna make a lover
a daughter my parents are proud of
an expensive cheesecake that’s so soft
a pigeon that’s just set free
but most of the time I just wanna feel me
 8° 
MisfitOfSociety
You hid pieces of yourself,
In places you would never look.
Hidden within those inner landscapes;
Unable to remember their names.
 8° 
Tyler
Back when I was young my father told me:
That I’d grow up, and I would be lonely,
But not to go, chasing Cleopatra,
Or else I’d die just another bachelor.

He said;

“Oh those pretty girls, there are so many,
Just look around you and, you’ll find plenty;
When you’re hurt and broken by a lover,
Amen, don’t worry, just find another.”

I said;

“Daddy, what if none of them love me back?
What if I’m alone, when the sky turns black?
What If all I am, ain’t what I could be?
It’s hard to find wisdom, but not misery”

He said;

“Son don’t stress, there’ll always be someone
Looking just for you. You: their only one.
And don’t ever worry about heartbreak,
The road to love; it is made of mistakes.

So, count your fingers and count your blessings,
Invite Cleopatra to your wedding.
Never love ‘til you don’t have to chase it,
But when you do, don’t you ever waste it.”
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