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Lily Mae

They say that after the dust settles that everything will be
alright, that in time you’ll become centered and whole again.
The sun and moon still will rise, as too the stars will wait for
your wishes cast upon the night sky.  
The warmth of just being will sooth the inner unrest, allowing
you to just breathe…unfold.

Yet, even though the natural flow of life still exists, what
if the pain doesn’t  cease?  You see, it’s not confined to a traditional
box of thought.  It’s a definition of a time when one flesh bound
human being dared to share themselves with another.  
Soul imprints…together sharing intimacy, trust, honor with endless
amounts of joy and laughter.

So yes, the dust can settle and time passes us by…life goes on
and here I am, not wanting to cross that line with anyone again.
Void and its silent echoes stop the need for another flesh bound spirit,
gone is the tenderness, the touch.
Friends shield me from dreaming of these things…keeping me safe.

Existence; that’s my world now…embracing my own rise and fall.
All this time has given me is you…with me writing our names in the
sentiment of the dust that fell~


Please play your piano heart
Till you’re free
Till your fingers bleed and you weep
Till lovers make love after dark
And angels sing

Please play your piano heart
Till night says goodbye and dawn arrives
And everything Day promises is smothered in music notes
Till minor cords become major
And destiny is destroyed

Please play your piano heart
Make the notes scream
All the words you couldn’t say
Carve your melodies in their brain
till they see
Your piano heart was always meant to be


just a memory now.

just a memory now.

just a memory now.

just a memory now.

just a memory now.

turely wulod wnat to witre ye a ncie peom
but i cnnaot seem to get tehse wrods rghit
ye see all my letrets are so mxied up
resmelbin' excat wath be on my mnid

tho smeowehre i hvae hared taht wehn ineded
the fisrt 'n' the lsat lteter rhgilty palced
one salhl be albe to msaetr 'n' raed
wrdos rhgit in the eaxct crorcet odrer

ye see i srue am not taht wreid at all
tho at laset not mroe tahn any one can
wahtveer uopn to, or waht we slahl

jsut nveer be of toshe rdaey to ban
wihcveer ye siltl do not udnrtaensd
do not be of tsohe be jgudin' the man

..lvoe alawys...

عرفان بن يوسف © AH 04/03/1439

'a (pentameter / freestyle rhyme scheme) Sonnet'

The empty expanse,
now clear before me.

A vast landscape,
A wide variety.

Thousands of things,
which act without royalty.

All beings act thus,
out of free will,
making many choices, for good or for ill.
They take many actions,
depending on their mood or the weather.
Choosing casually thus,
they affect the latter.

For one's life is not a void,
decisions are not empty.
One man's choice,
will affect all of the laity.

Interconnectedness to all that will be,
decisions will reach far, like a king's decree.
Knowing thus, and seeing thee,
one begins to act with certainty.

Being grounded in knowledge,
Clear seeing of truth.
The awareness and wisdom,
that's not simply, aloof.

One begins to act,
with pure joy and tact,
in accordance to all that is good and fact.

These men are praised,
as men of value.
As people who act,
with poise and valour.

They will be remembered,
as men of their day.
When all they did,
was simply obey.

Nature's laws and creatures,
the meaninglessness of critters,
coming together,
to form a system of leeches.

Knowing thus and yet going beyond.
These men who obey,
are not simply pawns.

They transcend into legend,
stories told of their fame,
yet all they did,
was to be grounded in their name.

Terry Jordan

It happened fifty years ago
It’s yesterday to you
Holding onto dreams that seem
Never to come true

Seasons of Past so plague you
A long-playing Revival
Gathering an audience
Is key to your survival

A pattern of yesterdays
Mired in fear and shame
Staying insignificant
While projecting all the blame

Letting go is good for you
A cellular release
Down comes that wall Resentment
A chance to find some peace

An embryonic valve released
To play a different song
Soften your face, creating space
Held hard in your heart so long.

Gratitude for this day, for sharing a Thanksgiving with caring friends.  So grateful for HP, a place for sharing with other poets who put themselves out there, too.  This poem was a reflection of spending time with people not so able to let go of negativity from their past.  It feels good to look forward, instead, with hope and kindness.
AP Staunton

For a couple of toffs , I was lagging their loft ,
The size of a Polo Pitch ,
With thick fibreglass , of a " superior class ",
There wasnt a part of me that didnt itch .
Now I had a , full bladder ,
So climbed down the ladder ,
Left the hatch open , like the " barn , I was born in "
Desperate for a pee , though it wasnt through tea ,
I hadnt been offered a cup all morning .
And right there , I saw , a note taped to the door ,
In the natural light, blinking , it got me thinking ,
Is MY urine , so different to theirs ?
Ignoring the sign, I  crossed over the line
And entered "The Master Bathroom "
It was expensively tiled , a shame to defile,
Full of lotions , potions and perfume.
So I pissed in the sink , gave the mirror a wink
And was up to the loft like a thief .
Back home that night as I turned out the light,
I imagined them brushing their teeth .

Toilets , like poetry should be for everyone and not just the select few

Her hair smelled of roses,
her body curvy in places.
We've been together for months,
a destination was set.

I arrived at her house,
it was all quiet and such.
Her parents had left,
leaving us all to ourselves.

I unbuckled my pants,
she pulled down her panties.
I was standing real straight,
my glue stick was ready.

I grabbed hold of my stick,
and she did with hers.
Wait, what?
My girlfriend's a dude?

have it

I will love you
From here now on
Right or wrong
I will share
Your secret pain
I will ride
Your hell bound train
Down and out
Out of work
I will love you
Beyond your worth
I will love it
When you smile
I will love you
For a while
'Til the end
Where love flies free
I will love
Both you and me!

Traveler Tim
"Happy Thanksgiving"

when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.


tiny bird thief, that cheeky sparrow
lionheart in brown tweed plumage as he
steals  breakfast from the cat's bowl

the cat looks on confused
dinner (he only wishes) stealing breakfast
what a topsy turvy world
must go contemplate this,
conundrum  in the sun patch, by the window

Maria Etre

You stand out
like a fruit loop
in a bowl
of cheerios


You were my solace when I was soulless
Masked in a pretense that you were here for the right reasons
And not just a season
I loved you to the moon
but you couldn't love me back
Lunatics we became
Rising at 4:12 and setting at 7:10
Both the best and worst times of my life
But time well spent
Because a lesson came out of it


"You'd be prettier if you just smiled,"
they tell me.
What they don't know though
is every single time I've been told that
my frown has etched itself deeper into my skin.
Maybe it will one day be so permanent
that I can't even fake a simple smile.

Have any other women (or men too, I know everything happens on both sides) gone through this?  Strangers, family, friends... it's all the same.
Michelle Argueta

or at least
you're not supposed to admit that they are
but everything is about love
or lack thereof
so, i think wholeness
is a lot to expect.
i think my chest
is gonna rattle no matter
who tries to fill it,
but i still wish for quiet.
i want stillness in my breaths,
and maybe i need to hold them
but maybe i need to hold him
and i think wholeness
is a lot to expect,
but regret stings less than loneliness
so i still write poems about love.

one day i'll get the whole "first line as the title" thing down but today is not that day

As I catch my last breath,
I wish to speak my last words.
Taking the opportunity before death
That this message would be heard.

I'm sorry friends families and foes,
My body is like of a decaying rose,
To the one I love, I will miss you the most,
From the day we've met till you gave me my daily dose.

Scurrying away, the life of a diseased one.
Soon enough, I will be a deceased man.
I feel the chill, the Death has come,
And all the pain will soon be gone.

Oh please don't cry, I want you to be happy.
Because someday, somehow you would be able to see me,
Once that day comes, we'll eat, dance and party
But now, smiling is all you can do for me.

As these words' coming to an end, I would say you this.
Don't forget about me, if you please,
But don't weep, be happy and have peace
For that's a dying man's only wish.

I dedicate this to my friend who died because of aneurysm. A loud and happy man whose death is so sudden he doesn't got the chance to say goodbye. For someone who has a dying love one, don't weep. To see you happy is their only wish.
chrissy who

I spent so many suns searching for gods
So many moons searching for you.

After all this time
It turns out

You can't fall back on feelings
That are no longer there.

Shay Moore

Who am I?
Why am I here?
Why is it not
My death I fear?
Am I conscious?
Are these my thoughts?
Or am I just
Stimulus, response?
Neurons fire
Cap gun shells
Across synapse
These particle spells
Hormones travel
Within my blood
Into mind
Emotions flood
Am I ruled
By brain or heart?
If life has meaning
What is my part?


i wonder what i
look like in
your dreams

do i dance like light
through vertical blinds
or am i only
a feeling


Almost eight billion souls
And all I see in them
is ur absence

Matt Perkins

Life is crazy . It never stops being crazy. Shit just goes and goes and doesn't stop no matter what you do. It never ceases to amaze me. Every day it seems something comes along where I feel like I'm helping someone some way. Either that or I have a chance to and turn it down.. I dont know. I don't know why I'm alive. Im trying to find a purpose for my life. Use my skills I learn in life to help people is about all I can think for what a good purpose would be. I don't care about doing things for myself. I've realized Im going to die some day no matter what I do. Its not very difficult to sustain my own life. Why live life for me if no matter what I do I die in the end? Why not help other people while I can? Everyone knows something you don't, and you know something someone else doesn't know. Life is never a solo journey unless you conife yourself to want it to be that way. There are billions of people around you, with lives just as complex as yours. Nothing stops for you. It just keeps going. No matter what you do. I just want to find my place in life im tired of feeling lost.

This is from the vaults. Welcome to my mind.

i hate math
not because it's boring
or it requires work
but because it is the thing
that causes my mom and i
to fight
you won't realize this
thinking it's only a shallow opinion
but to me
math is a wall
separating me
from love

Ashes to Ashley

Just once
I would like to be
the poem

and not the poet.


I let you in so I
could feel whole but now my body doesn't feel like home

Rick Stachemore

no forks, no spoons
just plastic knives.
how can I eat this
spaghetti on my
lunch break?

all of a sudden,
it just seems like
a good day to go
out and get
Chicago style hot dogs

why do we go through the headaches
to punch in and out of time clocks for
people who rob us of our time from
our families and can’t even provide
paper towels to dry our hands or
forks and spoons to eat our sad,
pathetic spaghetti lunches?

I guess everyone needs to
reach out and touch pure evil
just to live and support and
get by every once in a while

Regurgitate that love  that I gave you.  Your Venmous. Can I swallow you whole.


I thought he was perfect.
He's got the cutest smile, a handsome face; yet not too hot so other girls would steal him.
Smart, aces the exams without studying, too.

Clever, cute, loyal to death and loves me, too.
What more could I possibly ever wish for?

The thin layer of sweat covers his body, glittering in the last dusk's breath.
Sparkles of silver are in his eyes, as if God himself got down on Earth to pour galaxies in his wooden eyes, which are prospecting me.

So, what's the missing puzzle?
You love him, don't you?

Then look at you.

Gazing at the reflection in the mirror, quietly standing.
I look at the dark circles under my eyes which are expanding, following my nose line by the parallel.

Then I look at my nose which I've always hated; the uneven line, like the messy sea in sky's rage.

Then I look at myself.

And I rage, too.

So where's the missing puzzle?
Why does he care?
Why do I?
Ah, youth - well you wore me thin,
And, by the skin of I teeth I'd almost felt something.

So there's the missing puzzle.

I even showed him how I look without makeup. I showed him my madness and my crazyness which would shoo any man away.
Why's he here?

I'm not perfect like him.
And I can't stand, oh, I can't stand the pressure.
I look at my curvy body and stretch marks, lining my legs and showing me my fight with life I'd quit from for another reason.

Why me?

And now,
The mirror's smudged with blood
And I'm sitting on a lonely chair,
A lonely soul, in a lonely room,
With a lonely mind in this lonely world.

I don't know love no more.
How could I?
I take out the mirror bits from out of my fist, silently observing.

Then I look at me.

The face of a disappointed warrior with a long past of fighting her own life,
And it might seem dramatic to you,
But I've had a lot of things on my mind
Which you wouldn't find on the normal silver plate.

I'm not perfect, nor I plan to be.
I see through the lies caused by the love veil, and I choosed to rip it off, but it's not falling down.

And I'm afraid,
I'm afraid if I stay;
When will he
Take it

A simple love story.
Mary Winslow

Young girls laugh
and cut the stems with fingernails
or small blunt scissors and set them in a vase
they gleam
rough cut flowers
husks by next month
after the water has dried
their stems touching crystal.

Weighty as feathers
desiccated while in bloom
these fossils
touched the moon
only a shadow
of their former selves
brides of the clouds
like statice, lavender, eucalyptus,
pearly everlasting
is nothing but lashes
claws of petal
they don’t care if they are hollow
if their throats are silent
wear iron smiles
ghost bloom
the very bitterness in them
is just a bough of hours
suitably decorating
the table.

©marywinslow2016 all right reserved. This is an old poem included in my collection of poems with Jeff Stier
Lost Boy

What if I told you I could take you on the ride of your life?
Would you be the type?
You said you bout that life.

Yeah okay alright.

So, what about tonight?

What you got in mind?

Come get lost with me.

Oh no no.
You took it to far.
I've never been lost before.

Baby I wanna take you places you never would of thought before.

So how many other girls have you gotten lost with?

I ain't even gone lie to you
it's been a few.
Probably more than you
& all your girl friends
& all their girls friends
added up.
But I've been there before
& I've had enough of that lifestyle.
I'm talking to you about right now.
Get lost with me.

What do you say?

so i will bend.
i will stretch
in my kitchen
doing a holiday
woman's yoga,
find zen
using the edge
of the sink
as a ballet barre,
turn on NPR
and dance
a dirty robot
to Mozart.
i can bend far
when i can
relax and during
the toughest
of times stand
guard in the good
fight, being smart
by being kind,
breathing out
toxins for
fresh oxygen,
breath saved
from wasting
words when
i am extending
into an ivy
of long curve
and fluid
soothing both
pain and
my heart's
bruise points,
on point
to hurt, to ache,
to miss people,
to ease
my hinges
and joints. maybe
a spot of wine
after i have
filled the kitchen
with a cooked
bird and my
good vibes.
these are times
to remember.

Hayley Schug

The demons inside are terrible
They tell you how to feel and what to say
All they seem to do is make life unbearable
They come out when you least expect it just to play

They poke fun and make you cry
The bad thoughts sometimes come and stay
You get pushed to the edge ready to leave the world with no goodbye
Wile the demons inside laugh and don't go away

Your ears ring with their laughs
While your screams comfort them inside
They whispered the bad things in what seemed like paragraphs
Until you fell apart in your mind

There are no rules for them
They lie and break and bruise
They cause mayhem
The demons fight and play until you lose


Where did you go, Duke?
You left without a goodbye.
I saw you last night
in old black and white,
on a silver screen
you tipped your hat to me
left a word to the wise,
a nod, and a grin --
When I saw you ride off,
and the sun set
on a late night channel
I looked for my grandfather's
chair, and in the memories
of a child, I saw the smile
on his rugged face
knowing his hero
would ride again
next Sunday.

John Emil

Malungkot talaga yan
Hinahabol ka kasi nyan
Wag mo namang bilisan
Baka di ka nya maabutan

Gusto ka lang nyang kausapin
Nang malinawan ang isipan
Tuluyang maibsan ang kalungkutan
Ang iyong lakad pakibagalan

Hahabulin ka ng maabutan
Saan ka mang daan
Siguradong kakausapin ka nyan
Malungkot na kasi yan

Nat Lipstadt

Until you have bent your ear to Shakespeare's sonnets,
Till you have laughed with Ogden Nash,
Wept with Frost, visited Byron's ghost,
Read the songs of King Solomon,
And once you
Despair of being their equal,
Shed your winter coat of worry,
Screw your courage to the sticking point,
Begin to write then with reckless courage,
Unfettered abandon, make a fool of yourself!

Scout the competition.
Weep, for you and I will never surpass
The giants who preceeded us, and yet,
Laugh, cause they thought the same thing as well...

Kaye I

she's a song
you'll never hear
because you never listened.

Leigha Betts

Yours is the voice that would linger
And yours are the lips I want to kiss
Yours is the name I will forever whisper
And yours is the warmth I will miss
love is a lot like winter.


and then I asked you,
"What's your biggest fear?"

you gave me a quivering sigh,
looked at me straight in the eyes
and said,

"It's that eventually, you will see me
the way I see myself."

Rick Stachemore

poems are not all
sunshine and

just sometimes
we have to piss
in the bathroom
sink of beauty
to find out how
repulsive it can be

I find the soap scum
of the shower drain
to be more enriched
with adorning features
than the palm trees
of florida

and all forms of it
are inexhaustible,
you could never
take that away,
including this

Art needs its balance
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