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Undress my heart
Let her feel the cold chill
Of November midnight winds
The howl of the coyote
Is music to her rhythm
Ana Ona
All I could do was yawn
As I couldn't wait for the tears
Let all be glorious
dear, mighty goddess
spare me the glance
to change my life forever
when I dagger my way
into our unearthly love

shine on me, belittle me
for all I care
i'd let you drown me
in your lovely words
that wounds my heart
with green blood oozing
i smiled to die

two of us are glorious
as we paved the ground
with harshness
your mouth to mine
my hands are *****
eyes are blurred
you will never love me
but still I laughed

i smile to die

Smoke billowing from the bonfire
Velvet yellow blanket, fields of marigolds
The villages have an old world charm
Vast greens and farmlands
Thatched roof houses
The cattle in the shed, sounds of rustic trucks
The tractor on the farm
Farmers in uniforms, toil and till their land
Fresh and pure the air to breathe
Shades of green, in their eyes gleam

Inspired by the villages and farmlands
Each person in our life is a traveller.
You will meet next day or not.
Author: Zhanar
Trevor Reynolds
A dozen roses in a vase
A kaleidoscope of color
To pick just one to press and keep
Seems insulting to the others.
In the end I had to choose
The one that first, caught my eye
Its vibrant blossom standing out
Causing a sentimental cry.

Its petals felt like velvet
With a scent of pure delight
It seemed to glow endlessly
Even in the dead of night
This rose is one I'll treasure
For we will never be apart
It will always be there with me
As it blossoms in my heart.
Jules Anton
i've stopped addressing my letters to you
this one is the last
i promised

but every word i write
it all unravels and coils around
the subject that is you
Two certainties of life:

You never stop learning,
And you never stop hurting.
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

No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

Vanity but the computer is not correct
455 likes and loves
Green Tea
The same four walls, I see them everyday
There's a door to the outside
But if I leave I become the prey

Is it my fault the yelling begins?
Is it my fault I don't look that "great?"
I leave and swim but the sharks have fins

If I don't leave my room why do they see it as a phase?
If I don't have their name in my story why am I looked at with disdain?
I keep looking at the walls but start to feel insane

I want to leave, I want to run
I feel my mind tremble and I feel outdone
I just want to get lost because that's what's fun
I wrote this poem because I stay in my room a lot due to anxiety but whenever I leave something is occasionally said about my appearance or I'm not listened to in conversations :/
Half of me is gone
It just walked out the door
And I know
Deep within my heart
I know
That it will come back
Until then
Am only
Fuming with rage , ink splashing.
A world so loud, a tainted canvas.
In need of a friend, a forest.
To listen, when low and trickling.
To listen, when spilling and roaring.
A river in the midst of the jungle.
A fire through the night.
Sarah Flynn
it is gray outside
of my window,

and it is also
gray in this room.

but outside,
the gray is obvious.

the clouds are
blocking out the sun.

and inside,
the gray is irrelevant
because you shine
so bright that

I am only ever
looking at you.

the world outside
fades away in here.

it is beautiful and
sunny and vibrant.

here, the stress of
the world outside
can't touch me.

I see no sadness
or pain or fear.

I only see you.
I only ever see you.
Paul NP
Sound , hidden in our throats.
Reverberating waves pressurized and toned by different shapes of empty space, filled with the grace of Air. The life giving energy for the blood and the brain. That spirit of love set into frame of language. Spoken words of energy set in motion. Disippating yet when discipled, everlasting.  Humming tones, the craft of song. Open vowels, playing within and bending it to meet the satisfaction of our inner ears.  The place where senses combine.
If I die tonight
Please don’t pray for me
Hell is full
And Heaven’s gates don’t open free

If I die tonight
Look up to the stars
Peel back the façade
Past the hate in our hearts

If I die tonight
Find peace in my courage
Never backed down
Went out in a flourish
His face
The sight brings a smile to yours
His eyes
You can stare into them forever
His lips
You wish you can kiss them
His hands
You wish you can intertwine them with yours
His mind
It intrigues you
His soul
You can love it for eternity
His heart
It doesn't belong to you
My heart is iron
It feels no emotion.
No amount of sadness or happiness can effect it.

It wasn't always this way
It used to be fabric, flimsy and unstable
Always letting those annoying emotions hurt.
I was nothing more than a baby

But I changed after those words
My heart turned to ice, hard and cold but crackable
And I wouldn't settle for crackable
So then it changed to iron.

My heart is iron
And I am proud
But the iron is only a cover
For a beautiful diamond
A poem slightly about bullying. It is also a true story.
I am dedicating this poem to those who have faced bad things in their life and are still living the best they can without giving up. I am thanking them for still being kind, even without showing emotion.
Eshwara Prasad
Feelings are armed invaders who plunder peace of mind.
If someone throws fire at you, “be water”.
Be clear, smooth, calm, gentle...

Fire will only burst into more flames,
but water...

will find its way through.
Made: | November 20, 2020 |
By: Kiana Mae ♡
Poem #11 “Touch of Water”
you looked as a friend
yet spoke as a lover
talking futures with me
but going home to another
Love depends,
It is different.
Do not compare.
If it's love, it is right.
Carolyn Diana
I've been told
when people exit
they leave behind an impact

And so a part of you remains
hiding within me

It devoured my flesh
and embedded deep beneath my skin

There's mutation taking place
deep in the dark
you'll know no difference
until we meet again

As of now
I'm still work in progress

I've met your demons
and you just brought me mine
You were
My sigh of relief
And now
You’re gone
And I’m sitting here
Gasping for air
Deb Jones
This is my heartache
To bear witness, to listen
As one of my adult sons
Cries from a heartbreak
Only to me will they cry
As I make soothing noises
Lady Misfortune
I say:
Do you want me to pretend you do not exist?

She says:
Do as you wish.

I perceive:
All I was once you moved onto the next,
A waste of breath.

What a mutual perception process,

You keep on running and now I have nothing but my beliefs.

And what do you have?
Your cup is empty

It would be full but...
You poke holes in all the words I speak
The art of assuming the worst

Created 5.21.18
Saudia R
Let my silence teach you

what my words

did not
This year, do not explain yourself (especially repeatedly) to someone who does not listen. Let your silence be your response. Let your happiness be your response. Let your peace be your authenticity.
You were sent from hell
But became my heaven
you never asked to read my poetry
maybe that was the sign.
i told you i wrote for fun,
you shrugged and moved on.
red flags went up everywhere, but i didn’t bother looking
Mr E
He sat atop his marble throne
In silks of radiant hue.
His enemies, to wolves he'd thrown
His decrees were swift and true.

In his right hand he held power to love
In his left, the power to destroy.
Atop his towering throne above
Iron grip he did employ.

He came from nothing and now had all
And cut down a thousand men.
Saw the rise of brutes and fall
And vowed to rid the world of them.

Atop his regal pedestal of stone
On the backs of nameless men.
Alone atop that white marble bone
A tyrant sat just as back then.
pony-tailed playmate
head tucked in her shirt
gazing steadily down
at her toes in the dirt

chaos tiptoes around her
naive oblivion
journeys in far away lands
just west of the meridian

watercolor fairy tales
bleeding outside the lines
unaware of the danger
unaware of the signs

let me sit with you, darling
in the dampened flower beds
and paint a new world
for us in our heads
The rushing of water
Through narrow veins
Of stone, like marrow
To be disposed of
To get rid of
Or the dull ache
Of wind finely etching
The cemented sand lose
Like a surgeon;
These years the same, the same
Sometimes the raging flood
Of debris, in all its muddy glory
Sometimes, the soft tug
Of stars pulling inward
Ever so gently, like
A long forgotten memory
The caged bird sings!
Such a wonderful song
to wake to begin the day.
She is screaming for her
freedom from the cage.
I scream from my perch
in this zoo of houses and
neighbors and weight on
me to provide and be king
with all the answers for you.
Sarah Flynn
someone asked,

“how can you be
so happy,

but still write poetry
like depression
is all you know?”

did it ever occur to you
that maybe

I’m only happy because
I took that depression
out on this paper,

instead of taking it
out on myself?
Is it a battlefield for love?
Or a wicked game of lust?
Is it a good time and fulfilling?
Or is it a meaningless rush?

Do you have *** because of connection?
Or do you **** just for the attention?
Do you have *** to feel like a new person?
Or did somebody **** your innocences?

Do you see *** as a gift?
Or a symbol of nothingness?
Do you see *** as important?
Or escapism from human conversation?

How do I see ***?
It’s better than hanging from the ceiling
How do you see ***?
I’ll be waiting
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
I am bound to this earth, like feathers to a bird. Only for a moment do I let myself fall into the clouds, to dream of other worlds. Slowly I am brought back into my flesh. The roots of my feet keep me steady on cold, damp soil. I cover myself in blankets of moss, to dream once again under an ink splotched sky.
                                                            ­    has

In the End, It will all fit together.
Rupert Pip
Eyes wide like
vibrant skies;
flown high and
tie dyed. Stars
burst in blushed
sighs with lovely
smiles; oh how
they shine.
Just a bit of fun, really.
Anais Vionet
You know a girl is
really hurt if she calmly
starts to ignore you.
I’m sure it’s startling, to suddenly go from meaning so much, to meaning so little.
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.
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