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phil roberts

This muse of mine
Remains silent and invisible
And is no less intense for that
I still write to her
Tell her of my dreams and my pain
And she is part of both of these

This muse of mine
May be no more than a ghost
But she is still my only truth
The one who loves me
For all my damned and damaged past
For all my pointless future

This muse of mine
May be unreal or gone
Yet still I hold on
And still there'll be no other
Because within my muse
Hopelessness and hope
Have me enthralled

                              By Phil Roberts

Jon Shierling

And at last I understood why they all hated me.
All at once I knew in my very bones
that even as a child they would look
into my eyes and couldn't see a person looking back.
They could read nothing in me, could not own me,
and I could see right through into their souls.
All the lies they had built for themselves,
all the powers of their plastic civilization
meant nothing when they looked at me.
I am a jackal of the desert, born of horrors
and raised with the spirits of the dead for guides.
When they look me in the eyes
they know fear.


Anger that boils in the depths of my veins
was bound to erupt when love is at stake.


Don't tell a rose how to grow,
And The birds how to chirp
Don't tell your daughter to be soft
Don't tell your son how to hurt.

Don't tell the sky what color to bleed
And a person, the right way to grief
Don't try to tame your daughter's tongue,
Don't tell your son the manly ways to love.

Don't tell the wind which way to blow
Or the clouds how hard to rain
Don't teach your daughter how to soak in
Don't show your son how to easily reject.

Don't tell the sun to adjust its light
Or the truth how to show itself
Don't tell your daughter it's feminine to shy
Don't teach your son how to reign with fists held high

Don't tell a heart how to beat,
Or the mind how not to soar
Don't clip off your daughter wings,
To make them a foundation for your son to grow

Don't tell a rose how to grow,
Lest it decided to turn its petal into thorns
Don't tell the birds how to chirp
And have their voices turn into rebellious growls.


you said i was your dandelion once,
and i thought it was an insult.
people call them weeds.
they try so hard to get rid of them,
mow them down, pluck them up.
not you though.
no, instead you called them pretty, and sweet;
you said they reminded you of the brightest parts of the day.

we both believed in 'best friends' and the
concept of forever
that was then
and you always had a lot to say.

now i am disappearing with every breeze,
leaving you with nothing but the seeds.

Madison Greene

I learned to stop dancing with the memory of you
to stop hoping someone else might fit in the depression your body left on my mattress
you were not my saving grace
I wake up in the morning and my sheets kiss my bare skin
the sun running across my shoulders, warmer than your hands ever felt
I am whole without you, I am whole by myself


So much laughter, anger and secrets are hidden in my walls.
From a time that is no more.

I can still hear them sometimes, like a tape playing.
Taking me back in time.

So much love, anxiety and tears engraved in my pillow.
From a time that is no more.

I can still feel it sometimes, when I in a confused moment think you're right beside me.

So many smiles, hugs and stolen kisses my mirror has witnessed.
From a time that is no more.

I can still picture it sometimes, but the face staring back at me is filled with pain.
Swollen, from the tears that won't stop falling.

The Lonely Bard

I have always been beckoning
In the streets and classrooms,
In the schools and coachings,
In the soccer goals and chess games.

I have always been searching,
In the lonely evenings and nights,
In the sunny days and afternoons,
In the packed markets and parties.

I have always been so very patient,
In the empty Sundays and holidays,
In the private moments and hours,
In the public places and datings.

But true love was nowhere,
I searched the whole world,
Then I finally had it accepted,
That true love was only twice.

First was when I was born,
To my mother and father,
Second was the rebirth,
In an ICU's rebreather.

My HP Poem #1604
©Atul Kaushal

imagine this
there's always the

right before the end
they have to tie you in
finish the deal

To show they were more than friends
I guess that's always been the trend
To see the happily ever after begin

The people with whom I share my life are not the conventional norm
The broken up relationships remain as friends and family
expected to walk away some have stuck by me
The friends I have never met but share a care and love
The blood family that don't see eye to eye but manage to somehow rise above
The ones I choose to be around although views aren't always shared
The animals who've brought such bountiful joy
My dog Orko my dearest beautiful baby boy
I am grateful for all I have and all I know
These people and pets very important to me
I try not take for granted
Pardon me at times though
I'm human and I make mistakes
I try to learn and grow
I love the ones I have around
and this I want to show

Nancy Starry

A road trip with someone
Driving along the long road
Listening to favorite songs
Singing in the car
Wearing my sundress
Taking polaroid pictures
Standing on field of flowers
Looking back with shy smile
Wearing flower crown
Lying on the mandala blanket
Reading poetry book
Looking at the blushing sky
Watching the sun disappear
Light up a candle inside the lantern
Sleeping under the stars
Talking about life and dreams
Making memories
Forgetting the world

Nat Lipstadt


no bequest requested.
no grant, no teach,,
no need or greed asked
just a hey listen up,
if your attention is elsewhere

this is an
prayer that
my eyes utter,
my tongue,
now silenced,
can only watch
and must approve

in fact,
this is more
of a post
than a prayer,
updating you
on the state
of what we Earth temporaries
call the heart, mind, soul
and even their,
crafted carrier,
my body

Mine enemies call me
cursed, embittered,
they are right but fools,
they are
so much more wrong
for in this they err grievous,
for they cannot see their own
bile provisioning their end

ask for no interference
from the sidelines
neither from the
sapphire mother sky
that raised me up gloriously
this morning

nor the emerald earth
that this day
both gives and gets
common bounty
gives me sustenance,
as much spiritual
as grained cereal delights

lest you think this
just one more
me-centric rants,
let us recall this prayer,
is his very own,
prayer of

woman's head
rests on my chest,
her blonde highlights,
highlight our bed
and our

take and tuck her tresses
from eyes and forehead,
gentle them into place,
behind her ear,
and my hand journeys on
to the skin,
flesh of her backbone,
where my fingers
spread wide,
five messengers unique,
advising all of the 120 provinces of her
heart, mind, soul and body,
she is my beloved,
and I pray,
I am hers

learning still to
live with my means,
such as they are,
sometime mean,
sometimes extraordinaire

even this skill,
to express,

is a gratitude
that though
comes and goes
like summer breezes
that as now we pray,
cools my AM coffee
while studying the
patterned mystery
of the bay's
Ave Maria waves
from that

where my heart, mind, soul
drink wet inspiration
from the still-oak-tree'd-strong-surfaced waters,
the blue glue of
our common delighted,
uncommon existence

this skill,
at this moment mine,
to share and
not to keep,
for have I not,
been blessed,
by comrades-in-arms
that kneel beside me,
asking, imploring
to be stronger yet,
for their sakes,
for them!
I pray for
best they-can-muster
sustenance of peace
of heart, mind, soul
and body

here now,
my shills,
my failing skills
cannot help express
in new ways,
a gratitude
that has a shapeless shape,
no measurement app enabled
for their comfort,
our comfort,
best grasped as
an unbounded divinity,
how so I wish I could pray for them better

focus this prayer
on the good ones,
who so greatly honor us
with a greater-than-a-creator,
gift glorious of

this walnut crack'd shell,
this container ship of
heart, mind, soul,
here there,
a few leaks sprung,
no nicotine patches
to cover

this dented car,
this dented body,
new one every day
from only-you-know-where
still gets me there,

other than taking care better,
it plods along and houses
the rearrangement of this prayer's words,
and that is what is called
plenty good enough,

prayers that are too long
go to the back of line,
so here we be,
but here we do not wait!

for prayers of gratitude
are instantaneous fulfilled,
and thus granted even before
they are completed

the love I feel for all of the people, friends and poets in my life that give me
their best, their perspective...they know who they are..
7:32am on the dock by the bay, another blessing for which I don't have the words but keep on trying...they are..see below...
PostScript -  the pleasure of your affection for this writ, palpable and heart pounding but it only reflects the spirit that working wordsmiths share in loving camaraderie so deep in the hidden roots of this place. For which I swear I will never to cease to write upon this favorite optic topic a loving challenge...very humbly do I thank you

The mind of a child
Is like a freshly cemented wall
Whatever is etched on it
Cannot be erased

How do you take the heartache away?
How do you cease its existence?

Let me tell you how I do it;

I inflict pain,
A scarring one, that is;

All in hopes that the pain would take the heartache away;

But only for me to find out that the deepest scar doesn't always cause the deepest pain, after all;

And that the deepest pain doesn't always leave scars.

So, how do you do it?
How do you take the heartache away?
How do you cease its existence?

Don't hurt yourself;
Don't do it like I do.
A Thomas Hawkins

Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again

Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins

You paint black
the surrounding
making people fall in love
as you confidently smile.
And it's hard
to forgive you and forget
the way my name
escaped from your lips.
Moving it's far from easy
cause in this world full of words
i wasn't even a full stop
while you still are my favourite book.


You lay your breath
upon my ribcage
like hand spun silk

One final
taste of autumn
before winter
kisses my tongue

And I breathe in the
warmth of you
deeper than any
love song;

It smells as
If you just
walked through me


Third eye
Busy blurry skies
What have I done
To the you and I
To the me and you
That could never be
Drawn to these pleasures
Between these sheets
Smothering moonlight
Deep summer heat
Damping lust
Still no retreat
The flame burns
Even hotter
When You and I cheat

Take my hand
and come with me
to dreams of love and lust
Where....drifting down
the blurry skies
the eye need not adjust,
moonlight dances merrily
reflecting us unseen.
The smoldering heat
of our united union,  
except to you and me
No need to worry
the things that we do
between the sheets
of carnal pleasure
that draws me to you.  
Together we will reach our peak
as we share this glorious night.
Lie with me beneath the moon
and feel its timeless flight.

Hope you don't mind Trader Tim.

She is both,
hellfire and holy water.
And the flavor you taste,
depends on how you,
treat her.



I count things in 5’s

one cat
two cat
three cat
hula hoop
tote bag

My notes are organized Cornell style
but it can’t fill the void you left.

Light switch
one slipper
two slippers

I’ve got my life organized down to the the minutes
but you aren’t in any of them.

Long distance.
We’ll see.

Tyler Matthew

to love a poet
is to admit the world
is tragic

Scarlet V

I am willing to calm your waves
as it touches the shore
but oceans have storms
that no man can control

but those storms don't last long
so I'll endure your wreckage
and other afflictions
cause you're still beautiful after any chaos


I want you.

I want to know your favorite color and your middle name.
I want to know about the people you hate and how you found out you loved women.

How do you make your sandwiches?
What foods do you like and can’t pronounce?
What places do you want to see and what words do you know but can’t explain the definition?

Can we cuddle?  
And by cuddle I don’t just mean lay on you, because trust me, I can do that without cuddling. By cuddling I mean let me hold you till you forget your problems and I finally stop talking.

I want to call you baby. I want to sit in a room, with you, listening to jazz music.

I want to feel your pulse and you feel mine,
I want to hear your heartbeat dance to the rhythm of the same songs on the corny playlist on Spotify I made that remind me of you.

The Special Playlist,
(I call it)
The Makeout Playlist,
(you do).

I want to only be about to hear our synced hearts
and the slow songs
and the weight of the world leaving our shoulders
plopping onto the floor with your worries
and the jacket I took off of you when you first came in.

I want you to tease me
because I significantly failed as a former lesbian
because I’ve never watched Orange is the New Black
or The L Word
“You’re not Lesbian certified”
You’ll tell me.

I want to speak to you
In my limited German vocabulary
and watch gay movies
and let you tease me even more
when you find out I can’t sit through sex scenes
even the really gay ones,
and nudity isn’t my thing.
It’s okay though,
Your laugh is cute.

And I want to kiss you.
I want to kiss you like
we’re those horny ass teenagers
from Romeo and Juliet,
(but with a better ending).
I want to kiss you like
there’s nobody else in the world
And there aren’t people who hate me for liking you
And your family won’t care if you love me because
I want to kiss you.

Let me buy you flowers,
and want to take you on dates.

Let me take you to McDonald’s
and order off the dollar menu because
I believe in treating my girl right
(And I get an employee discount)

let me tell you why I churches make me nervous
and how I don’t believe in God and
why I don’t like birthday parties
And how I want to have my cake and eat it too
Even though I hate cake
And prefer cupcakes,
But nothing is better than cake if that’s you.

I want you to know why I played trumpet for three years then switched to baritone,
I want to know if you’ve ever done drugs and how it felt.
What are your morals and values?
What’s your utopia?

I want to send you goodnight texts and spend hours talking about nothing
And dance offbeat with you because
neither of us could have rhythm to save our lives.
I’ll let you scream fight me when I let you win in games I would destroy you at because you get that goofy smile when you think you’ve won.

Introduce me to your family and I’ll show you mine.
Let me see your baby photos and we can see foreign movies on Netflix.
Let’s go out for coffee and ask deep questions.

I don’t care, okay?
I just want you.

I need less free time

I don't remember
Having an answer
For this buried
Putrid in me
Grey that I feel

I don't believe
In what's special
About me my
Melancholic attention to
All I disagree
Exists, furrowed relationships
Between cells in
My mind, exist

If I move
Towards what I'm
Afraid of, I
Can forget it's
My guiding star
And smell flowers
And talk conversations
But all I
Work for is
Still hopeless. Word.

That last word isn't meant to be like a cool way of finishing sentences, it's there to express the abandon of formal structures due to despair. Have a nice day :)

at 4:14 am
im still wide awake
imagining your body on top of mine
captivating me,
your large hands running down my fragile, tiny body,
claiming everything you brush as "yours".
at 4:20 am im still awake,
imagining myself on all fours,
your hand grasping my hair,
pulling it into that tight ponytail i wear during the day,
while you're telling me about how you could never resist me,baby. your words alone leaving me drenched and ready for you.
it's 4:30 am, and texting you:
"are you awake?"

Makayla Shea

I dont have alot of friends
But now i have one less than not alot

Shruti Gauba

Grabbing my shades of yellow,
I used to paint the sun,
that peeped up from low valleys
when the day had just begun.
Then I took all hues of blue,
and filled them in the sky
where a lonely tree would stand,
and the birds would sing and fly.
The greens I saved for grasses,
and the reds were for the flowers,
But now in place of all these things,
now stand sky reaching towers.
And I thought I couldn't paint,
for I grew up and lost my art,
but I know my brush still aches,
for the colors dear to my heart.
So bring me blues skies if you can,
and I'll paint from sun to ground.
But the truth is that I cannot paint,
because my colors can't be found.

Bring me back blues skies. Bring me back the summer breeze.
Bring me back the green grasses, so my brush can dance in peace.
Bad Vibes

He asks me,

"What do you hate about yourself?"

Suddenly, I am silent.

What do I hate?

What don't I hate?

- t.s.


I fell into my comfort zone with you
I danced on the banks
and talked to the fish
like I do when I'm alone
It was like you were
the best part of my surroundings
you were the banks
and the water
and the trees
the sounds the wind carries
to sing in my ears
You were comfort
with with a form
and a heartbeat
You were always that
You were something
I never knew could exist
until I knew you existed
So when I nestled close to you
late last night
it was organic
and unforced
something that I never
let anyone have
and when I kissed you
it was because after 5 months
of not touching you
letting another moment
go by not being able
to kiss you seemed unbearable
so I did
and I waited
for you to push me away
and you didn't
and with all the things
on your mind
that brief moment
was enough for me
you were always
enough for me
because to me
you were everything
just you
Its all I ever saw
Its all I saw yesterday
and I wish you could see me too

Gia Garcia

Despite the fact that you broke her heart
She somehow managed to mend it
Just so she could have it beat again

For you.

For J

I see you there
suspended for a time
between the shadow
and the light.

You look pale
but peaceful,
in a dream state.

I rest awhile,
a shallow sleep,

then I awake


without words
my mind whispers

it’s time

I gently wipe your lips,
brush a stray hair
from your forehead.
It’s all I know to do.

Then I sing
a cherished lullaby
hoping you hear me
hoping it wraps you in love
as my arms wrapped
around you
as a child.

I hold your hand,
kiss your forehead.
In that instant I see
and feel all you’ve been
all that is you

tiny wrinkled infant
delightful, smiling six-month old
curious toddler
proud school age
struggling teen
loving adult

we're losing all of these,
all that you've been
all that is you


I feel your spirit leave…

for that brief moment
I’m overcome with a calm
I can’t describe.

A gift rare and precious –

as I was there
when you entered the world
I was with you
when you left.

"The butterfly counts not months but moments and has time enough."  
Rabinadrath Tagore

We lost our son to a brain tumor. He fought bravely and determinedly for seven years, enduring two surgeries, radiation, Gamma knife "surgery", chemotherapy and clinical trials. He never lost his sunny smile or determination. He only let go when he knew it was time, slipping into unconsciousness shortly after his two brothers (his best friends) arrived to say goodbye. He remained in that suspended state for two days. On the third day the four of us gathered for dinner and shared thoughts about him and our life with him. We cried, we laughed, we shared memories. Later that night he let go. I will always believe, being the caring and generous person he was, that he heard us talking and knew that, as hard as it would be, we would be okay.

Feel like crying,
What should I do to be deserving?
When you are giving me everything.

Self doubts started coming.
How can I stop this from happening?
Am I really worth saving?

how can this be happening?
Harlee Kae

i was fighting sleep and now it wont come
of course thats how life works
i feel sad
sorry sad
i am horrible and i hate hurting you
i never want to hurt you
i didnt mean to hurt you

but i did
and on christmas
i suck
im sorry
i know its not enough
but its all i have to give
believe it
or not
but i wish you were here right now
because no one should go to sleep angry or sad
and now we both will

i hope you sleep
i hope it comes quickly and lasts until morning
i hope you feel at peace
i hope you dont hate me
i dont want to fight
im sorry that we fought
we're not the people that fight
and my heart is breaking

come back tomorrow
and lets try again
to treat one another
as a best friend
come back tomorrow
and i promise i'll stay
right by your side
and wont turn you away


"I love you,"

I said.

He replied,

"Good night."

That night

I knew

what love was for me

was a dream to him


as the man slowly took the roll from his lips, letting the smoke drift into the lights. still his breath produced puffs as it touched the night air. he watched the cold mix with the warmth of the smoke, dissipating and dancing it the sharp, chilling wind. to the stars his eyes did carry to the yellow sky above, the hot stump between his fingers began to burn now on his skin 'til he smelt the putrid smell coming from his numbed hand below. and with that smell and the city lights and the smoke that rose above he realized something he never before had from the loud streets and yelling cabs. that the world wasn't all that beautiful, he thought with tearful eyes, the pretty was wearing off, and the sky above that he used to love was absent of all stars

only lovepoetry


so she says...

your mouth suddenly goes Gobi Desert dry,
somehow manage a single swallow,
sounding as loud as if you've cracked
all twelve of you pistol-toting open carry knuckles simultaneous

damn, as ridiculous as I sounded,,
it can't be worse than my succinct, elegant,
pithy response of a choking, but interrogatory
                                                   ­                              ahem?

(translation: excuse me, what did you say,
are you crazy, and did I hear you correctly
and are you completely crazy?)

then that awful pause
as you wait for
further guidance
from her mission control,
a scientifically measurable and
unendurable two shakes of a lamb's tail
(10 nanoseconds in atomic scientist lingo)

while that interminable wait drags on and on,
you manage to prepare an Old Testament long
and truly impressively worthy sing-song
list of variegated absurd follow up responses,

- damn those ten pounds that summer slipped on so quietly
- is she really that crazy
- does she really think you're that crazy
- really? naked naked? (as opposed to just naked),
   or just in a, uh, a bathing suit?
- hot damn! there is a first time for e v e r y t h i n g!
- mmmm, what's she really after?
- am I going to be an Internet instantaneous super star?
- but I'm not tan down you know where
- she's just making fun of a really old man
- that's gross (or more accurately,      
   "I am so gross looking i.e. damn those ten pounds")
- yeah baby
- and the concluding eloquent summarizing thought of:
"make me an offer I can't refuse"
  which sounds suspiciously
  in your aged brain sadly like
                                                                                "you talking to me?"

then she laughs sweetly and says,
not naked, naked pictures silly,
just those poems where you bare your soul,
reveal more
of your core,
ones where we get to peek
(peak? couldn't resist) inside,
that comely come, studded,
(surely she must of meant studly,
says my semi-wounded pride)
that brain
you try to disguise
from where you draw
equal measures of pleasure & pain,
revealing yourself and so,
revealing us as well,
in a publicly secret way

cloyingly, subtly, adding
in a man-killing seductive  manner,
"after all that's a kind of love poem too,
is that not so?"
dancing me into submission, knowing,
that when Wanda-Goldfish like,
elle répète en français,
est-ce pas?"
there is no question who's the master
and who will be role playing the obedient
slave to poetry

oh well...

Sic transit gloria mundi, all glory is fleeting..

but still,

that's a not half bad compliment....

so I reply

you know there is a very
steamy seamy dark side to me

and as proof, and in fulfillment
of her request,

I gave her this love poem

                                                         and no telling what happened next

4:21am, of course

Sometimes I find it hard to say
But I would love to tell you in every way
That I love you anyway.

I will always look for ways.
Ms Poetess

I don't want you to miss me on Fridays
when you're drunk and lonely
I want you to miss me on Monday mornings
when you're busy at work.

Tark Wain

I like the way your words taste
not nearly copacetic daffodils
but a boisterous bouquet of
letters tied so neatly
so crisply
that I dare not close my ears
even just for a second
because a time without you in my mind
is one I'd rather leave behind

No notifications
and all work
makes HP
a dull place.

I rely on them
to give a proper
and timely reply.

I'm trying to be patient,
being this my first day.
Reading of others'
lengthier ones
keeps my nerves at bay.

Please without delay,
recover HP
back to a happier day.

Always HP loyal,
but this is a royal
pain in our word play.

Please without delay
fix notifications today

6-7-17 (C)

Please without delay fix notifications today! I truly respond to everyone's comments, hearts, and messages in order as received. Not knowing when someone does these things is really messing with my HP experience as I know it is many of you.
Thanks for reading! K:)

I own myself
I create myself
Fell in love with myself
And oh how it felt.

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