A piece of me, I left behind,
A fragment fading from my mind.
I shed the mask, dissolved the name,
In losing self, I found the flame.

The weight I carried, now set free,
A shadow dies, so I can be.

in quiet rooms where shadows hide,
celia whispers, soft inside.
a secret kept, a dream unspoken,
a song of strings, unbroken.

she waits in corners, dark and deep,
where memories fade, and shadows sleep.
eyes of silence, heart of mist,
tracing what’s been missed.

I'm just allowed to read 5 poems. I can't scroll down for  more.
I don't know what mistake I've made for Eliot to close the door.
I know I'm not the only one with no access to the index
Which I consulted constantly from forgetfulness and reflex.
Is there some way to make amends and put things back to right
Or are we all to drop our pens and fade into the night.

Will Eliot do something new and leave us on our own
Or are his plans a secret - totally to us unknown
Will Hello Poetry ever come back and be the way it's been
If we should lose our access it would be the gravest sin
I've offered Elliot a check instead of monthly nicks
But I've not had a word from him - up to his usual tricks.

I'll keep submitting what I write and see if it's displayed
And if it  never does appear, sadly I will be dismayed
If I am not the only one facing this conundrum
Let me have a word or two and tell me who it's from.
Then I won't feel I've crossed a line and there's no hope for me
And all together we will wait to see what we can see.

Is it better to have what you want
Or what you need?
This question bothers me every night
Why can't what I need be what I want,
And why can't I want what I need?

Now that I want you
I don't really need you
I need the air that I breathe
But I didn't want it
Until I had you

So maybe I need you after all

The fabric of society dangles by a feeble thread
That trembles with the the heavy weight of anger
And is stretched beyond what possibly
Can hold it all together

Weavers rush to reinforce the ever thinning yarn
But the sheep that usually supply the wool
Are scattered in the meadows of contention
And a worthy shepherd can’t be found.

How long can the tapestry, once honored and revered,
Remain in place upon the walls that form the room
Which shelters us from the visisitudes of living
In a world of hatred and divide.

It must not crumple to the floor, cut loose from
What sustained it through the centuries,
Leaving walls with gaping cracks that let inside
The freezing winds of vengence.

Will there be a place to hide and recreate a loom
In hopes of managing to learn to weave once more
And patch the rends in what was rescued from the floor
And seal the walls of hope again.
                                                         ljm

From the earth's beginning
of life, and night,
It has been a companion,
to all with sight.

A controller of nature,
and oceans tides.
Showing only one side
the other it hides

Cycling from lighted face,
to smiling away.
It taught humans a span,
longer than a day.

Floating above in white
florescent grace,
A symbol of Romance, and
  a slower pace.

Realizing that everyone,
each and all.
Have looked up with wonder
of earth's reflective ball.