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Luna Pan
i'd rather be kissing in summer
so innocent and so naïve
you can taste the strawberries right off my lips

i'd rather be cuddling in winter
so cozy and so soft
in my mouth, i can taste your past
that's what i want and that's where i am
with you,
i was constantly looking over my shoulder,
waiting for you
to catch up on our love.
my neck hurts, jk, it's a metaphor.
Gabriela Cintron
Love never hurt you

The wrong person did
Goodbye my sweet innocence
My hunger takes precedence
I have never thanked you,
for the conversations.

I have never thanked you,
for the smile.

I have never thanked you,
for asking me how i'm really doing.

I have never thanked you,
for staying alive.

Thank you,
thank you.
what does it feel like to be held
not by another body
not by a set of limbs, a chest, a chin
by another soul

what does it feel like
to see truth in another pair of eyes
instead of hidden intentions
instead of absence

what does it feel like
to hear a familiar heartbeat
resounding next to your own
reaching through skin
through bone
two rhythms

what does it feel like
to write poems about
a love that exists
John Wiley
We buried an old friend yesterday,
in the midst of virus restrictions.
It was outside,
just a few of us,
around the grave,
rugged up against the winter wind,
each maintaining distance,
no touching,
no handshakes,
no embraces,
just being together
to acknowledge our shared loss
and celebrate a life well lived.

A son, the only child,
had been allowed to cross
a closed state border.
Others could just observe
by live streaming.
When all was done
we lingered awhile
to renew acquaintances
and reminisce,
but then
were moved along
by grave diggers with
a yellow tractor
and a load of earth.
Over the years I have been involved in many funerals but will especially remember this one.
Lucy Marie Maund
sing yer own songs you wrote
write yer own jokes
laugh your own laugh
before its to late
Chelsea Rae
Sometimes when I hear certain
I see you there,
Singing behind them.
Colours drift across the dust,
Brushes dip into the paint.
On the canvas, dreams combust.
Once bright like iron,
Now dull like rust.
reaching out to others is a hard, hard thing
i really never do, not much for a casual fling
i want to be friends for a long, long time
but why does it feel like the effort is all mine?
with your cool steel eyes
and ink stained hands,
you are the only one
who calms the storm
in my mind.
- just like honey.
Flower C
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
Han Drew
You we're my sunshine
But then I remembered that the sun doesn't just shine for one person.
Flower C
You’re much like the rain,
You can be soft or heavy,
Or kind to my drought.
your presence
is all
i need.
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about

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
Gentle raindrops fall
A melody for my soul
Soothing me, like you
Erin Riley
to bring
my dreams
with me
when I
wake up.
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.
If my fate is to love you
From a distance
Then I'll burn for you
Like a star in your night sky
Bright, steady, reliable
Until the end of time.
The voice in my head,
Tells me what you said.

It tells me about good things,
To my imagination, it lends its wings.

In my mind, our sky is blue,
I know at last this love is true.
My HP Poem #1869
©Atul Kaushal
Anais Vionet
I want to be a writer -
and like a new poker player -
I'm starting to evaluate my cards.

I post on several poetry sites
I find syncing them kind of hard.

'Cause I'm the model of imperfection
heck, I'm the Edison of mistakes -
a teenager half-heartedly committed
to doing whatever it takes.

Does it help that I'm never happy?
That I constantly make updates?

At times I feel the proverbial cat
chasing its own tail -
but I think I'm making progress
- like a literary snail.
A poem about wanting to be a writer
and they never knew
they were lost stars,
building their empires
after many lost wars.
Lisette Naidelyn
i stopped wishing for you
mainly because
i never truly wished
for anything for me
unless it involves you and i
so instead of wishing for us
i wished for you
to have better days
to fall in love with life
to kiss it with open arms
and your eyes closed
for life to fall for you
hard and fast
with lips so soft
and a gentle hand on your cheek
because it’s what you deserve
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)
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 too *******.
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.
I might seem a bit mystic but I’m good at heart

As a small garden rakes over my eyes and a head digging in and scrapping away

She says,

My heart is like a cleft pomegranate
Bleeding crimson red,
And dripping every seed on the ground
It’s ripe and over-full,

My dissatisfied heart,
My hearts it is more human than I,
More than life itself

My heart cries but my eyes are dry,

And behold my friend
This is what I call my brief tragedy of flesh

So set me free and away
So I can lay at peace
you inhale tragedies
and exhale poetry
From where do you get your perseverance?
Jack P
Have you ever liked someone so much you regret meeting them?
J E A Cole
My fingers have tasted the moon, and my mouth are sealed with hyacinth
Whiter than the skin of pomegranate stars purify with bitter herbs, set alight by the bright face of morn
World's light membrane burns on drought, for our milk tears are insufficient to cleanse and make it whole
i am myself
i may not be the same me that i was before
but i am still me
and i am still myself
and i am still i

it gets harder
every time
to put myself back together
but isn't that all we are

just fragments

some of us are put together neatly
fitting perfectly like pieces of a puzzle

others are a little haphazard
strips of paper hastily taped

i tape other people together
and i am also the tape
and i tape myself

i am not perfect

but i am me
and i am myself
and i am i.
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.
In my backyard
I see a few stars.
It’s late.
The few lights I see-satellites.
One star moves. Irregularly.
Not too unusual.
The stars move.
That is what they do??
Amanda Hawk
Fingertips linger upon skin
I trace my answers
As if my hands are mouths
Tongues lapping at the salt
The sunrise rests upon you
Layers of pink, orange and yellow
Glisten upon your face
And my gaze
Falls into your eyes
Your name
The horizon upon my tongue
And our love, I devour
Slowly eating with every touch
And over time,
My pen stopped bleeding
But my heart didn't
Divya Midha
The Mask I have,
it masks my face !
Protecting me from COVID
at every new place!!

I wear this Mask, Morning till Dine!
A bit suffocating,
but keeps me breathe fine!!

I‘ve chosen the one,
easy to knot!
It does look funny!
or probably may not!!

It keeps me safe from the pandemic blow!
But doesn’t hide My “SELF”,
from the world I know!!

It never hides my sorrows,
My grief or my pain !
It doesn’t stop my tears,
that roll down as rain!!

The Mask I have,
is visible to all!
Unlike the ones, keeping
another behind the wall!!

The second one they keep,
Isn't  visible on  face!
Hiding their emotions,
true self and grace!!

The mask they carry, is not for the care!!
It helps to pretend,
someone so rare!!

I wish the day comes, when fear goes away!
To never come back
never ever any day!!

“The secret”, I visualized,
I am writing to convey!  
To Live being REAL
as long as we stay!!
Let’s “PUT OFF” these masks ,
On One Fine Day!!
Aneesh H
I desire a daily verse:
A dose of well-worded fun;
Be it verbose or terse
Wrap it in a witty pun!
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