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 1213° 
Palindromic Angel
How selfish of me,
to crave a happy ever after,
when I have already tasted forever
in a fleeting moment with you.

It was enough
to carve your name into my bones,
to make the world without you
feel smaller, emptier, colourless.

And yet…
if once was all I was given,
if forever was just a heartbeat,
then I would choose it again.
And again.
And again.

Because even as a wound…
our love was still the sweetest eternity.
Follow me on Instagram @incurable_poet 🫶🏻🌻
 620° 
Dead Rose One
~for Jill~

“from your messages”
elsewhere scribed, a
confession that your comments
be challenges like cool
well water drawn, a
fresh mix and minx,
a two flavored scoop
on a waffle (or sugar) cone,
mmm call mine, flavors of
inspiration and aspirations

it’s 2:46am, one would think
that a deadrose would know
better behavior, but up is up,
and down down down-come
tumbling words, as usual,
each screeching hoarsely

pick me, pick me!

uncover your note of appreciation,
side splitting laugh in shame and shock,
that spellcheck has altered intent,
one day, likely a  cause of a war,
or e v e n a new poem

peddle a rose
became
“pedal a rose,”
invitingly nonsensical,
my point exactly

but the awake-too-late idiot,
can’t stop me now ~ urgency
has mastered my     common
sensibility, thus        commanded
me to write and shine

somewhere nearby,(1)
babies be borning,
and flippers of coins,
old humans too,
be expiring on the
sell-by-date
some surrounded,
yet all surrendering

Angels sent to
both sides now,
to ferry them
back home,
their adventures
completed or a
preface begun

Oh
for the ferryman
to ferry them
across rivers whistling
hello my darlings,
to a new home,
with a clean
writing tablet
to inscribe their
owned
future or past,
making their case
for a future or a
memorized posterity

I am dancing on the edge
of that first category,
dancing tap before that ——,
unwilling to cross over
and the angel sent
with collection papers,
mine and JoeBideen,
can’t touch us yet,
while in the middle
of our latest composition
(ya didn’t know?)

where in the world
has this to do with
pedaling roses?

the angels offer enticements,
write like the great ones,
sit at the feet of Leonard & Sylvia,
get introduced to the author of
“Leaves of Grass,”

who will amend and correct
(using spellcheck)
your own new scriptures

for rules From Above,
are carefully careless,
and don’t care about
impossibility so
leap with me,
onto a bicycle of roses,
each pedal a petal,
each tire of woven stems,

our destination is
everywhere, our purpose
to bring scent to those
who still have need to
breathe, and those’d who have
ceased
being needy
forever

filling nostrils
with colors of roses,
and finding poems
on the floor, full writ,
purposely scribbled
and scripted for just
a jilly one,
(just like
this
one)

just lacking a title,
just lacking a name,
customed for a single
customer, now a custodian
of a new born baby
poem
ready to be fedex’d
to its new owner
and deposited in
the this bank here,
right here

so thank you for
revealing my
inadvertent typo,
and aiding in my
quest to bring it to
a new life,
but must petal on,
for new babies are
being born and need
wrapping in a
a bed sheets of white petals,
fresh happily donated from
living roses!

3:19am
(1) i live on an an avenue of many, many hospitals
 580° 
onlylovepoetry
study
your defined mounds and dipping hips,,
lips and heated soles, to ascertain that
your mine willingly, you're alive, still mine,
to have and hold,
not to be me, a left~behind


for
you in and ex,
hale~hail me not,
you chest. convex nor concave,
if it gives, lives, moves, my eyes,
    mine wetted eyes cannot discern,
and the precious stillness I do so adore
cherish,
contaminated by
notions of you having perished


+
it,
is wished hard away,
wished hard it may disappear,
a sigh. a groan, a puzzling moan, anything
even a sudden dreaming scream,
to confirm that our heat still can be all merged,
so that your light sleeper schema cannot be
touched and thus defeated,
so I write an only love poem,
and sign it with tears
of a cursed quiet streaming,
clouded, most unliterary, but
always
with a super silent adoration, of, for


she,
who cannot be disturbed
 336° 
ac
he said
he’s just
not feeling it
anymore
but that means
at some point
he felt it too
 331° 
Kezexxe
Try me tomorrow,
When i am over it,
This is my sorrow,
I behold it.
 322° 
Nat Lipstadt
even I am puzzled that this phrase
did not prior
tickle my contronymic
poetic senses till now, for what is tender is of not always legal,
and what is legal is far far from
always tender
<>
tender/tenderness

gotta rank in my 10 top fav
words,
nothing transforms
swifter than an
unexpected kiss,
a hug from behind,
the light stroke of a forefinger,
brushing a tear from cheek,
an errant bang, a lock from vision interference,
All Super Legal
gracefully given,
gratefully given,
Wholly Unexpected,
and
great~fully
Accepted


<>
thinking that this maybe one of my
top 11 fav poems
~>
mmmmmmmmmmm
that's the sound
of me purring...
4;13am
July five
2025
 176° 
Saudade
ქარი ბამბუკებს ნაზად ეხება,
ფანრები ჩრდილებს ფრთხილად იფარებს,
გეიშას ნაბიჯი მიწასვე მიჰყვება,
თითქოს ის ღამის სიჩუმეს იკარებს.

ჩრდილი ნელ-ნელა გულში ჩაიკრავს
ბამბუკის ბაღში სევდის დარაბებს,
ღიმილი ნიღბიდან ვერ გამოხატავს
ქარი რომ დაშლის ეკლიან კატანებს.

თითები ფინჯანს ნაზად ეხება,
წყალი ბუშტებით ნელა სრიალებს,
ჩაი კი გულს მიღმა გაფართოვდება
„ხიბლი? ვერ შველის ჩემს სატკივარებს"

ჭიქა ნელ-ნელა ივსება სიმკაცრით,
სხვისი მზერა კი მას ვერ მიაღწევს.
ღიმილი კვლავ ნიღბიდან შეხედავს,
გეიშას თვალწინ შექმნილ იარებს.

სტუმრები თვალებს თვალებში უყრიან,
ფანრები შუქს მძიმედ ჩააქრობს.
ფეხზე დადგება, კვლავ ხმაურია,
შაკუჰაჩის ხმა გულის ჭრილს გაათბობს.

ნაბიჯი მყარად მიწას დაერჭო,
გული კი სხვისი ღიმილით აავსო.
ფანრების შუქში ჩრდილი მოძრაობს,
„-გაქრები ნელა! – ფიქრიც პასუხობს."

ჰაიკუ მორჩა, ბაღში ნისლდება,
გეიშა ისევ სიცოცხლეს ლამობს.
შაკუჰაჩის ნოტს ქარი მიჰყვება,
ბამბუკის ბაღი ცრემლებსაც ნანობს.

სხეულში მხოლოდ სიჩუმე რჩება,
ირგვლივ ჩაია მიმოფენილი,
მდუღარე ჩაი მას ეფერება,
გეიშა, ყვავილი ფერფლად დარჩენილი.
 167° 
guy scutellaro
the moon lights a bed of frost.
the wind a storyteller.

are the stars and the sea
still there
when the sky weeps white?

the moon lights a bed of frost.
the wind is a storyteller

and the griffons know the failure
of flesh, flesh and bones

and feeling the bones
in my crooked nose,
I understand sunrise
is not a guarantee.

the sky weeps white.

but the nightingale sometimes
sings to me of you in my dreams.


...(if the nightingale sings of me
then know I hear her too.)
 148° 
Dr Peter Lim
You could understand
people the world entire
yet fail to, unto yourself-
oh dear, oh dear!
 145° 
Kalliope
I've grown so cold
Your branches snap

I wish to embrace you
I don't like causing pain

But ice doesn't hug well
Nor a strong tree does it make
And I never know if Spring will come
 140° 
WILLIAM WORTHLESS
christmas time is here put whisky in the jar
line up the wine and beer all along the bar
time for lots of dancing in the line dance way
stomping and a strutting. swivel and a sway
put on the country music.  dance the night away

dancing in line dancing in row
dancing altogether dancing two and fro
hand clapping toe tapping with a turn or two
dance the night away till the early morning dew

christmas time is here dancing all night long
with  a drink or two and  a country song
dancing in line dancing in row
dancing altogether dancing two and fro

hand clapping toe tapping with a turn or two
dance the night away till the early morning dew
stomping and a strutting swivel and a sway
dancing altogether dance the  night away
 135° 
Ankush
I think I lost my style
A loss in spark.

maybe it wasn't mine
From the beginning.
jokes on me.
 123° 
Lostling
That night
It was
Us three

Two voices
Speaking. One
Sat silent

Us existing,
Talking, being
Apart, together.

I miss
Your voice
And you
This poem was writtin by the little boy in the attic, he has so much more to say but no way to say it
 121° 
selma
In my car -
you told me you loved me.
I pulled the words from your tongue;
couldn’t help myself.
I desired to hear them.
Forgive me,
I was young and eager to love.

December was sweet to us;
the snow storm felt like summer sun.
Seasons have gone by since then.
We couldn‘t stop the world from turning,
not even when you told me
your deepest secrets.

My heart has been broken ever since.
August couldn’t save us from crying.

Leaves change their color,
but I always remember
the very first time
you said you loved me.
 113° 
Layaalee
My blood still carries
your names with it
My heart still beats
for the echo of your voice
My ruins are now haunted
by the fragments of your
memories
Oh Layla, wake up already
Waiting in love is
a game, maybe hide and seek
ah, perhaps it’s both.
Watch out, don't fall in it!
 100° 
S R Mats
"I gave you my name," he said
"And you took it to the grave."
Many years rolled by in between
As they lived, loved, slept side by side.
After her death, he didn't wait long
To lie by her side, again.
He died from his broken heart.
If you think that you're 'over the hill'
there's a pill you can take
it'll make you feel brand new
and ready once more for the climb.

but you know it's all a bit Sisyphus
when
they call you by name, and it's
Narcissus.

No pills for me
herbal tea will be just fine
.
 84° 
abecedarian
passion
thirst
hurt
ephemeral
physical

cold heat
hunger
water walking
brutally real
physical

skin colors
words spontaneous
devious planned
desire desired,
physical

concrete
parchment thin
muscled strong
catch a caught
physical

making
creating
cresting
cannot live without
physical

electric
shocking
eclectic
varied
realized

why? stop here?

eyed
fingered
tongue tasted,
ear sensual
dreamt

famous
buried
tragic
comedic
gaming played

unsafe
at any
speed
languorous
fire immolating

physical chest pains,
incurable
incumbent
to possess
otherwise, death

fingernails poking
knuckle kissing
lips wetting
blood exchanging
oh yeah physical

foreign native
young old
permanently temporary
infinitely finite
definitely unending

nowhere
no expression
dying dreams
best better
agonizing

agonizing
unrequited
offer everything
receive shoulder
colder than hell

defensive
offensive
cape laid
walk on me
chivalry

until we hold each others fingers knotted
until I stroke your hair unexpectedly,
until we agree to hell with all the rest
until we say the say the same thing simultaneously
until we come together

when we have satisfied each and every one of the above,
freely confess
know nothing of love
but the picayune details that make us greater
greater than greater, greatest, then and only then
we, might have a few clues
 83° 
Agnes de Lods
In a loud corridor
Full of young people
I move slowly, reconciled.
I have lived a little longer than they have.
And yet I do not know how
They recognize my face,
They smile at me so calmly.

On the walls
Reproductions of masters.
One calls me,
Face distorted,
Naked in his suffering.
I stop my thoughts.
I look.
I see his bitten soul.
Too many sunsets
in blood-red color.
He and she,
They lost everything
And yet they still see
so much love.

I am already with them,
on their portrait.
I am part of these colors.
I search in a corridor of eclipses,
Flashing hopes.
To soothe their dignity,
To save the bond between them.

I take this story in my hands, so gently.
Together, we look into earthly wounds.
We allow them to scar over,
Day after day,
Year after year.
Until they grow over with life.
Until they grow over with green grass.
I will be happy.
Observing how they grow in true strength
Of human fragile beings,
Of impatient humanity, longing to be reborn.
 77° 
David P Carroll
The culture is not to
Shape the faith but
The faith is to shape
The culture.
Pope Leo you cannot accept actively
Gay people into the church that's to go
Against the law of God
 75° 
Emmanuel
Hay noches en las que me pregunto algo,
hay una duda que no deja de asediar mi mente en ciertas madrugadas:
¿mis palabras son capaces de moldear tu corazón
con la forma de mi amor?

Sé que me dijiste que no estás segura
de sentir ese romanticismo que yo siento por ti,
pero si mis palabras no se marchitan para ti,
te pido que me digas
si soy capaz de hacer florecer el romance entre nosotros.

Si esta semilla que planto
en cada palabra que escribí para ti florece
y las noches no son marchitas,
¿aún mis letras tienen un peso significativo
en la balanza de tu corazón?

En esas noches la duda es implacable:
¿sientes algo dentro de ti cuando te digo
que te quiero,
que te adoro,
que te aprecio,
que te extraño,
que te amo?

¿Existe esa ventisca que sacude con fuerza
las ramas de tu corazón?

Por favor, te imploro que me digas
si nuestras almas siguen hablando
el idioma del amor que creamos.

Dame a entender que para ti
mi poesía no son solo palabras vacías,
dime que mis letras son tu pensamiento nocturno,
corazón ardiente…

Siempre serás mi rosa de fuego,
la que deja en cenizas el mío,
cenizas de amor eterno.
Solo dime si mis palabras son capaces de moldear tu corazón.
 69° 
Brooke
Like a moth
you draw me in
over.
and over again,
you corrupt me
every inch of me burns
but only when i'm near you.
It's a feeling i yearn for
i thrive for
i need the pain.
i always thiink the concept of a moth to a fame as a sense of uncertainty
 67° 
Leo
Not a poem but a cry for help,
In this world somewhere I am losing myself..
Truth and lies seem so familiar,
I cannot make clear.

To be loved by one is a bliss,
But what about their past.
The shadows which it cast...

I always wanted to be be in a fairy tale,
But It seems all the fairies died,
And I held on to the tale...
Just changing words now and then,
I don't think I can anymore escape..
Sometimes I think I have lost it.. I am giving in to the chaos.. this is the only thing keeping me sane
 65° 
Delton Peele
the belief that
The depth of cruelty ,
Can only be deepend by  kindnes
Illuminating a path to seek evidence to rebuke this
The deeper you fathom
The more you find less....
 65° 
Hanny
I know the stars are still there in the morning
But I keep asking
“Are the stars still looking at me?”
Guiding with their dim light so I can see

Hope flickers, and I look at the sky
Stopping my urge to cry
Asking if the stars will guide me in this life
Will I still be guided by their blinding light?
 54° 
Bri
Aren’t we too young?
To carry a weight
Crushing us daily
Aren’t we too young?
To think of the end
Bearing down on us
Aren’t we too young?
To let tears go
Slipping down our cheeks
Aren’t we too young?
To hold regrets
Leaving us wanting more
Aren’t we too young?
To wish for death
Embracing us in peace
Please tell me
That it is wrong
That we are too young
I feel like this generation has to grow up too fast. Their whole life is rushed, leaving them longing for a small moment of peace. Some find a more permanent peace when everything becomes too much.
 52° 
Maria Etre
You s
               p
                 i
         l       __  l

the tea
I spill
the
rest of the
LETTERS
WRITING THE (ALPHA)(BET)
 51° 
Blue Sapphire
The world is the same

for you and for me—

What we see

depends on

where we stand.
 50° 
Ghost
I couldn’t help but think of the thunderstorm that meeting you was. As I sit here looking out the door. Drifting down my stream of memory. All I can feel is the blessed rain running down my face. Slowly wearing me down as I remember that the blessed rain brings memories back rushing to the surface like a geyser about to burst
 48° 
greatsloth
No face to be proud of
And my pedigree's blown off;
Free hugs that no one notices,
A lips that beat white lotuses—
I'm no ones best
And everybody's last and less,
I'm only here existing,
Standing while breathing,
Into the world I'm blending;
Maybe my luck has long snuffed out—
Long used up when doctors pulled me out.
 48° 
Joshua Myers
Arity, happenstance,
Pebble, claridad


The arity,
We read merilly,
We must have the sincerity,
To find the clarity,

What a happenstance,
This full romance,
Has me in a trance,
With just a glance.

A love like a penguin,
Given a pebble,
Forever together,
Intwined we revel.

In Spanish we find Claridad,
Nearly a triad,
I'll never feel bad,
With her I am ironclad.
I tend to think of all my love,
When a rock ballad plays.
First I think of you,
Six months for Sixpence,
Maybe we weren't ready for each other,
Maybe we weren't supposed to meet.
Then I think of her,
How there isn't a star left that's as stunning,
As you were to me.
I'm so sorry,
That I was never ready,
Never was I trying to be a heartbreaker;

I'm just a growing boy.
Inspired by Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer
 47° 
anastasia
I want you to be sorry
and you never will be.
it's always the same
I want
and you deny
I want
and you lie,
but I know about lying
I'm adept.
exceptional in the field.
part of me thinks I learned from you,
part of me knows I knew the whole time.
 47° 
Totò
V'aggia spià na cosa Donn'Amà:
vurria sapè pecché quanno ve veco,
la capa mia nun pò cchiù raggiunà.
Si me parlate, 'mpietto 'a voce vosta,
m'arriva comme n'arpa, nu viulino;
quanno rerite sento 'e manduline:
na sinfunia 'e Betove e di Sciopè.
Che v'aggio ditto... niente Donn'Amà!
Quanno cu st'uocchie vuoste me guardate,
me sento tutto 'o sango e friccecà.
'O core fa na sosta, nun cammina;
me dice chiano chiano sottovoce:
- Dincello a Donn'Amalia... è bella, è ddoce!...
i' tengo 'o desiderio 'e ma spusà. -
 46° 
huda almosafer
Suicide is a sin,
yet a sin so beautiful.

It stops… in a moment,
my heart stops,
my body falls,
my sorrows bleed away.

But…
but its mystery
is what makes it
more beautiful.
A beauty that will never scare me.
 45° 
Satvik gupta
Let Them Judge You

Let them misunderstand you. Let them gossip about you. Their opinions aren't your problems. You stay kind, committed to love, and free in your authenticity.

No matter what they do or say, don't you dare doubt your worth or the beauty of your truth.

JUST KEEP SHINING LIKE YOU DO.

- anonymous
Read this on internet ! Worth sharing !!!
The stars were not to blame
Nor the ocean between us
Or even that dreadful place
We used to call home

It was only you and me
Always a little too wrong
And maybe just a little
Too late
 40° 
Maniac4luv
Have I ever
Dreamt of her?
Well
She was in my dreams
But no,
I haven’t.
Because the real her
Is much better
Than any dream replacement.
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