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 1079° 
undefined
one little thing at a time
                 ...and bring a pen.



I feared i might sober up
and there wouldn't be much to write,
but slowing down to take a look,
moving at the pace of life,

not rushing it,
but taking it as it is,
seems so much more now to jot down,
I can hardly keep up with pen.

This is where the real poetry is,
and where it's always been...

Those loooong Journeys
cross-countries by foot,
and deeper still,
on more spiritual quests within.

Strolling along without worry or care,
relying on faith without understanding of a godlike dose of "luck"
that seems ta always just,     be  here.

The poetry is in the moment
when it's written, where it's found,
life exciting, breathing, be still and
          witness it all around.
 884° 
Kate
I don’t need your time.
I have you in my head, heart, and soul.
But if you have nothing better to do,
I would never mind your time.
“If only… in some other universe, we had every waking minute for one another.”
When you don’t want to disturb your busy loved-ones.
 715° 
Sia Harms
Lord, sift your comb
Through my thoughts;
Untangle them like
Unruly locks of hair.
Trace gentle circles
Along my back; sooth
All the worries that are
Groundless in Your love.
 477° 
Clay Micallef
I wake up early
with this poem in my pocket
and the sound of the sea
my arms stretched out
across a crimson sky
the sun rise of
untouchable love
I catch my
invisible breath
I see you smile only
in my memory
the waves of emotion
are reaching out for a
soft place to land
as the wild flowers bloom
in an open field of a
thousand sleeping wishes
I miss what I
decided to destroy
when the spring wind screams
at this world of broken dreams
I search for level ground …
Clay.M
No light to guide, no hope to find, In the abyss, l'm confined.
The darkness whispers, cold embrace, In every shadow, I see my face. Bound by chains of endless night, The struggle fades, devoid of light.
The pain, the pain, the beautiful pain, A constant presence, a binding chain.
In depths of obsidian, I remain, The shadows have won, and here I stay.
 337° 
Lumin Guerrero
I'm still a child,
in most senses.

I would be one to say no child deserves to die.
And so I don't deserve to die.
 250° 
Qualyxian Quest
It's been almost 10 years
Since I started writing the poems
Burning down the days
Awake in the restless night

Will anything get through?
Susan Meek not Sue
Carolina blue
The little way is light

              mystic flight
hidden in a life
everything has a season
she is ascending
 214° 
SøułSurvivør
smooth
as marble
strangely warm
are her
alabaster arms

benieth
long bangs
a curve of grace
is her
piquant little
face

a waif-like
gamen little thing
she is a fairie
with no wings

a smudge
of feathers round
her head
she lies on tile

almost
dead

the world saw
her wounds and scars
but we don't
care unless they're

OURS


now her
pain is
in the
past

now
she
has
her
wings
at
last




(c) SoulSurvivor Aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
 178° 
Maria
I’ll be waiting for you at dawn,
Where the night ends,
Where birds chirp in whisper
Like elves from fairylands.

I’ll wash my feet with cool dew
And I will be calmly awaiting,
Where pure thoughts are twisting with osiers
And creating dreams, fascinating.

I’ll be waiting for you at dawn.
Come some morning. I’m here,
Where dew is cool and all-pure
And our dreams are near.
 158° 
Siyana
******* out with your
 156° 
Whit Howland
It's about that time
when the mind  wanders

starts to play
and walks the tight wire

between
liquid and solid

dream
and reality
An abstract word painting that was inspired by watching an interview with Steven Wright.
 141° 
Vincent
I giggled.
He seems cute
dont even have a single clue if he likes guys too
but either way
it makes my little heart a little happier
hehe
I will soak my mind in kerosene
and strike the match with my teeth;
I will burn myself to the ground
a thousand times
before I will become
the worst of my natural beast

Only when there are no options
will the stinging vines trap me there
in the ditch of a cursed existence.
Only then will the mud at my feet
finally seize the rest of me
and feast on my warrior bones
 136° 
Cassian
you
Can you still see me

Standing in this dark room

Talking to the memory of you

Your hand is back in my hair

The love is still there

Just like you never left

But that is not my life

I couldn't sit pretty

To let you create a pretty lie

And now I'm here and for all I know..

You may have died.
 131° 
Àŧùl
Probably you didn't expect it,
Right when I saw your name,
Alas, I recalled her identity,
Tasked with exploring the possibility,
I lost myself into her calm,
Beautiful like the night,
Hiding her hurt heart,
Atul failed to entice you in his charm.
My HP Poem #2048
©Atul Kaushal
 128° 
David Lessard
Be with me Lord
when I am in a fearful place
and of your presence
there is no apparent trace
only darkness that prevails
and there is no shining light
only sadness that seems
to cover me like night
Be with me as I seek the way to You
turning from the clutches of despair
to find the exits that exist
to find the stair.
Be  with me Lord to fight the dark
to resist the ever present foe
reach out to me and guide me
show me just the way to go.
Be with me Lord and be my light
direct me in the street of decency
blot out my shameful shadowed past
I ask for You to rescue me.
Birth of spring in distance.
Slowly awakening.
Scent of zesty lemon rose
already in the wind.
World of promises
in the making
February coming through.



Shell✨🐚
Spring is coming soon.
 127° 
Raffael
not sheltered by delusions

oppressed by the truth

free
 121° 
Brie Williams
No stars
Just noise
 120° 
ymmiJ
that right fork took
led to yet another
endless choice made
 117° 
Noire
Man is born a creature unlike itself.
One million aspirations bouncing around itself,
Energetic, effulgent, indefinitely wishing for itself,
That it ought to become all that is not itself.

But time wears at the spirit of that self.
Entropy robs them of identity, of will, of self.
They build their own cages of codes for itself.
While that cage rots and weeps under the pressure of itself.

Yet all that is are not that which is not themselves.
You cannot be you and also everything else.
What are we if not birds in a cage, awaiting itself,
That it will one day die, and became all that it isn't once more.
 116° 
Jasmine Marie
she's beautiful the way she flies
with time upon her wings
a sussurus of sand elapsing
a due date for heartstrings
 109° 
Nancy Maine
Victory in hand,
Winds of fate cannot undo,
Strength in every step.
 106° 
Soumya Bajpai
I saw my skin as clouds of creme in coffee,
As the caramel within a toffee,
As the swirls of detergent in a bucket,
I love my skin, I remind myself lest I forget.
I saw it as an imperfectly mixed pasta,
As an unstirred Irish creme liqueur,
It reminds me of the side of me that’s a gangsta,
Like the work of a passionate newbie restaurateur.
It is mine, my own
No different than my blood or my bone.
I don’t need to alter it,
Let the others adjust as they see fit.
It took me quite a while,
But my skin too began to smile.
The efforts of a village it took,
So, lest you forget, love the way you look!
This poem has been penned as an ode to vitiligo. It is not a cry for help, nor does it invite pity parties. Rather, it represents the splendidness of the human body, and how truly life-altering self-love and acceptance can be.
Having said this, I'd like to affirm to the masses that even if a cure for vitiligo miraculously did appear, i would not take it. The speckled, marbled and patchy skin I now call my own, is MY NORMAL, and quite frankly, it's the only one that matters :)
 100° 
irinia
The temple bell stops -
but the sound keeps coming
out of the flowers.

Matsuo Basho
 85° 
JAMIL HUSSAIN
In that kiss, all is known,
A universe in love is sown.
Infinite Touch 06/02/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
 82° 
RMatheson
I'll be

dreaming...

Salt...Sand...

Your brown skin
in the Sun.
 77° 
Igor Vykhovanets
From fascism to fascism,
Through a softer, sly disguise,
Under Satan’s dark baptism,
Tiny worlds meet their demise.

Genocide and degradation,
Artificial to the core,
Spirit’s death and mind’s stagnation—
Drowning deep in filth and gore.

Fear and blind submission lead us,
All foundations cast aside.
From fake plagues to beasts they breed us,
Till the herds are stupefied.

Fools don’t set the night in motion—
They need sheep, not hell unleashed.
Empty heads find full devotion
If their coats are soft and sleek.

But what path is left for moving?
Hell is here, it’s not ahead.
Hellspawn rule us, all-consuming,
Feasting on the souls they bled.

Politics is just a circus,
Where the clowns obey commands.
Truth is drowned in lies on purpose—
Crowds don't bite the guiding hands.

So, they earn their fate in measure,
For the madness owns their breath.
Not for years, but times unmeasured
They have worshipped lies to death.
It is eleven at night
The bar is quiet and still
The mind a tsunami in calm oceans
Life a long lasting illness

A glass of wine sits across the table
A temporary cure to the condition
Life has become
In it rests solace and peace

A man in black sits on the opposite chair
He offers to get another
He is taken up on his offer
The wine lasts not five seconds

The man in black speaks
'I have come for you'
The gentleman stands up fixing his chair
'what took you so long'
One final drink is all you could ever ask for.
 70° 
Alfonsina Storni
El rosal en su inquieto modo de florecer
va quemando la savia que alimenta su ser.
¡Fijaos en las rosas que caen del rosal:
Tantas son que la planta morirá de este mal!
El rosal no es adulto y su vida impaciente
se consume al dar flores precipitadamente.
 70° 
Ruksana Saryak
Her
And there's this girl
Bringing flowers, cards, delicacies
Which I only ever dreamt from a guy
She brings them to me

Makes me wonder about my priorities
Have I got them right
Or is it just another play of god
Receiving from the unexpected
Being loved at the lowest moments
Such a risky play, lord!

I don't have enough to give her i know
Not enough love, nor enough respect
As she deserves them in infinite amount
Makes me wonder
Whether I'm deserving even in the first place

Being such a flawed human
Anger issues, mood swings round the clock
Yet she's there with open arms
My confidante
We must have been sisters in some other life

We might have shared the same clothes, books, food
Living under the same roof
With the same parents
Playing together
Singing, dancing, braiding each other's hair
Bringing roses on our special days
Cheering us up at our lowest

Cooking each other our favourite food
Knitting together, listening to the same stories from our grandma

She has become someone in my life I did not expect to be
But made my life a whole lot better than it used to be

- adrunkensoul
 68° 
Nishu Mathur
You fill in the blanks
Add adverbs to happy adjectives
Make days dance with similes of sun beams
And turn nights into metaphors of heaven
Words become songs
That beat to the rhythm of the heart
Muse and art merge
To become one -
And life becomes a verse
 66° 
Zack
Sunlight on my book
The clouds are gone — for today
This chapter is great
Reading brings me peace especially under natural sunlight
 66° 
Bhavesh Shah
Realizing I wasn't good enough
Realizing you didn't loved me much
Realizing i was just a waste of space
Realizing your voice fades
Realizing We are not together
Realizing I was a complete waste
Realizing that I did this
Realizing it is too late
Realizing my heart aches
Realizing your memories fade

-Bhavesh Shah
Things happen
People change
There not going
    To rearrange
Their life for you
You have to
Back off
Forgive them
But not forget
If they want you
They will try
So don’t cry
     Anymore
 58° 
LL
days — blurry, nights — hazed
time poured in a glass-like stream
unremarkably
02/01/2025
 58° 
Boris
Like this apricot tree,
I have dressed for spring
prematurely
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