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 Aug 11 DKN
Agnes de Lods
A warm wind touched my face.
I walked out into the open space,
I saw a blurry, fading horizon.
Somewhere, you are,
I am here, after a sleepless night,
Writing another reflection,
Tired like an empty battery.

I do not like the masks that shout.
The fight over who is right.
I do not want an analysis.
I touch the bark of the tree,
I hug the birch with my arms.
I see its white pages,
Written with irregular lines,
Torn, fluttering in the wind,
Which I cannot read.

Her eyes look straight into me,
They understand –
How well they understand me.
The rustle of leaves lessens the tension.
Autumn will come soon,
The summer wind whispers to me:
This country, this language,
These people, these doubts.

This is not blind luck,
This is your blessing,
Purple, rainy months, a fleshy heart,
Falling hair, joy when relief comes,
Crying into a pillow –
So as not to disturb another’s dreaming
About the so-called reality.

Bare feet touch the ground.
I tread carefully on the edge of worlds,
To be both here and there
With my integrity.
I am everything and nothing.
I am gestures, epilepsy,
The belief that I see human thoughts,
Inconsistent with what they say.

Blue, sun, and somewhere you.
How good that you stayed.
When everyone was saying:
She is different,
She talks to ghosts.
You stayed, showing me
Your true face.
 Jul 27 DKN
Rastislav
(after a night before dawn)

Last night, in the dark
before the world remembered light
I walked a field:
  wheat, or poppies,
  or something left behind
  by something that once loved the sun.

And there,
  not waiting,
  not departing,
  was death.

Not a blade.
Not a silence.
She was seated (or maybe had fallen),
  like a prayer
   forgotten mid-kneel
   soft, unfinished and
    unheard.

Her eyes
  held the curve of a question
  too old for answers,
  too tired for fear.

We didn’t speak.
We had no need.
We were not mirrors
but echoes,
  trying to remember
  which silence we belonged to.

For one breath,
(maybe longer),
I thought:
   she needs me.
And something kind began to rise
  not from mercy,
  but from something lonelier:
recognition.

But she had found me too.
And maybe she thought
   I had something left
   to offer.

We were wrong
  about each other.
But right
  so achingly right
about the sky.

I had no name
  to give her.
She had no end
  to lend me.

So we breathed.
And the field,
  if anything,
  felt fuller for it.

Then I walked
  not away,
  but toward whatever
    was beginning
      behind the horizon.

Easter approaches.
And sometimes,
resurrection requires
  no witnesses
only
  the will
   to keep walking
    until light
      remembers
       your name
 Jul 12 DKN
RJ
I’ve been through enough
to know silence can be louder than screams.
Enough to know
“I'm fine” usually means
I'm not.

I’ve had nights
where the weight got heavy,
but I held it anyway.
No applause.
No witness.
Just me
and the dark
playing tug-of-war with my peace.

But I never let go.
Even when I wanted to.

There’s a version of me
I used to mourn
the one before the heartbreak,
before the trust got shattered,
before I learned
people only love you
when it's easy.

Now I move slower,
but wiser.
I speak less,
but mean more.
I lost some friends,
but I found my spine.

The ink on my hand
ain’t decoration
it’s declaration.
Proof I’ve made it this far,
even if the road
was more cuts than comfort.

I don’t expect perfect anymore.
Just real.
Just effort.
Just peace that don’t ask me
to shrink to fit inside it.

I’m not healed,
but I’m healing.
Not fearless,
but brave.
Still got days
where I look in the mirror
and ask,
“Am I really built for this?”

And every time,
my reflection answers,
“You really are.”
 Jul 12 DKN
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
I met Joan Baez in my sleep.
She whispered her poems and
sang her songs. I fell in love
with her instantly. DIAMONDS
AND RUST she sang in my
dreams. Linda Ronstadt sang
LONG, LONG TIME to me.
I cried in her hair, so fair was
she. We made love for eternity.
Ingrid Bergman came into my
life a long time ago. I was
mesmerized by her luminescent
beauty. She walked into my
life 20 minutes into CASA-
BLANCA. I was transfixed.
But it was Audrey Hepburn
who stole my heart. Tiny and
radiant, Audrey saw and
held and fed starving
children around the globe.
She entered my heart and
kissed my soul and never
left my life. Bless you, Audrey.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
 Jul 12 DKN
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
I don't
feel anything
at all,
but I feel
it all
at once.
The brokenness,
the misery,
the weariness,
and the shame
are like
being
drenched in silt,
caked in filth,
covered with
life's crud.
I reek
of the living river—
its currents
have carried me
into a sea
of everything.
Now,
I find myself
adrift
in an ocean
of everything
and nothing.
For when you're drowning in everything and still feel nothing. A piece about emotional overload, numbness, and the silent weight of it all.
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