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 Aug 2017 Dami
harlon rivers
... a lamentable natural disaster ―
no one really ever understood
the uncomfortable loneliness they read,
left unsaid,  in the silence between the lines

Gathered words often revealed
an awkward vulnerability
a life tethering by a frayed thread
unable to shed the skin that enfolds
the dauntingly misunderstood laments

Suspended at friendless crossroads
melancholy days of malignant indifference
stifle the whispered thoughts,
"accepting an unfinished life"
evanescent as the faltering light,
musing many a sleepless night

It’s as if there was always some wordless reason
to never feel "good enough" to just be,
unworthy to discover elusive love,
cleave a labyrinth out of the darkness,
okay to just let go

It’s not a weakness to be human
"Tears are the heart’s traces" … he once wrote
"only eyes cleansed by teardrops see clearly"
heaven's rain unconditionally enlightened
by love and light.

Someone said a poet died
trying to make sense
out of all he thought he'd given
a word at a time was left behind
only abandoned words remain
                             orphaned in the drowning silence


                                      harlon rivers ©
JULY, 2017 : for every beginning there is an end...proverb
 Aug 2017 Dami
Nat Lipstadt
for Alyssa Underwood
~~~

my poems do not trend, go viral,
Fast and Furious!


yet, they do not die


they lay in plain sight pebbles scattered,
smoothed by time,
upon the surface of the
green earth waiting patient, virtuous,
purposed for itinerants bards
to trip over one
one some someday

somehow they accrete a readership,
slow stepping and steady from,
|the seekers and the stumblers,
the droplet drinkers,
meanderers of the tomes and tombs of prior years,
miners for nuggets in the poem pools that form
beneath the alluvial streaming
of the waterfall crescendo
of words

I like this

when another traveler sends me a like,
a petite amuse-bouche bite of appreciation,
for a long ago, barely recalled, writ,
allowing them to carve their initials upon the
external, visible roots of my tree trunk,
invading me, by darkening a prior tree internal ring,
forcing me to look down,
look back,
take measure of myself,
accepting myself as not wanting,
nor lacking in other's acceptance

these statements are neither  boastful or illusory,
yet still joyous, like caramel pleasures,
slow to chew, fast to the taste,

reminding me of old friendships,
well valued,
though no longer fully employed,
their uncovering is my own refreshed exposure,
their discovery is my own re-discovery,
exposing flaws and fallacies,
even fallow,
mostly shallow facts
about me

all of them,
a sundae of truths and lies, sharing a happy laugh
with and at
me,
when I think to myself,

"****, did I write that?"

copyright 2015 by Nat Lipstadt
all true.
sometimes I type in the search mode a word unusual, offbeat,
of my own choosing,
and let it lead me to the older nuggets of others,
familiar and unfamiliar,
from under the trees of their forest...

Oct. 7, 2015
4:21am
Manhattan Island
 Aug 2017 Dami
Ryan Holden
We can both become
Predator and prey to make
Beautiful nature.
 Aug 2017 Dami
Em MacKenzie
My World
 Aug 2017 Dami
Em MacKenzie
She is the sea, her waves crashing on the rocks,
slowly washing over me, drenching right down to my socks.
Providing life's true source, well, if it wasn't for her salt,
swirling on with no remorse but it's really not her fault.

She is the sky, both the day and the night,
up impossibly high and such a breath taking sight.
While the clouds can cover sun, the horizon will still stay clear,
and I pray that I'm the one that she'll always be near.

Oh, I live for her, and she gives me the will,
but I would still prefer for our world to stay still.

She is the air, invisibly filling up my lung,
standing up each and every hair, and tingling on my tongue.
Breathing in can revive a person once marked for dead,
she is keeping me alive by simply filling up my head.

Oh, I live for her, and she gives my life thrill,
but I would still prefer for our world to stay still.

She is the mountain, both rocky and very steep,
housing the sheep that I've lost count in while missing out on sleep.
Outlining my sight and enhancing beauty in my world,
and when we lay together at night, her curves fit into mine curled.

Oh, I live for her, and she's my red pill,
but I would still prefer for our world to stay still.
 Aug 2017 Dami
ryn
Give Me My Space
 Aug 2017 Dami
ryn
Give me a minute
To read the stars
Lamenting in their stories
Their laboured twinkling far and sparse

Give me this moment
To stumble and swoon
My branches reaching for
The faraway moon

Give me a while
To be one with the universe
Hear the colliding planets
As they spill their mournful verse

Give me some time
To plot my rightful place
Within my uncharted galaxy
And collapsing space...
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