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 Mar 2021 Denver
annh
Celeste
 Mar 2021 Denver
annh


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she pins stars to the ceiling of my dreams ☉ and makes milkshakes of meteor dust and moonshine ☉ in my day, she sleeps swaddled in a billowing blue counterpane of boundless reflection ☉ in my night, she dances a path to eternity ☉ leaving me breathless and in awe of her spiralling splendour
‘That is where my dearest and brightest dreams have ranged — to hear for the duration of a heartbeat the universe and the totality of life
in its mysterious, innate harmony.’
- Hermann Hesse, Gertrude
 Feb 2021 Denver
preston
paulSN

Don't speak directly to her--
you will melt the skin  off
  her bone-frame

Instead, find the parallel-words--

ones that will float alongside her
as she walks, so as she is able-
she can pluck them--  like
wild roses along the highway

Sometimes, love takes a
   tremendous
amount of creativity--

the name of the game is
  its destination
not the control of its path


 Jan 2021 Denver
M Vogel
Selmhem Naise


Most often we write

  for ourselves

               and to our selves.

And most often  we
end up reading our own work
             much more

             than anyone else does.

Most often
our poetry is
our own  spirit's

             pressing itself back towards us--


        The  one  we want
  and need
  relationship with
                      most deeply;

                                  most often

                is our very own selves.



 Sep 2020 Denver
Carlo C Gomez
Shipwrecks
and underwater ruins

Dressed as shiny
moons and stars

That shimmer
for the sandpipers

When the sun drops her guard
and shows a little skin
 Sep 2020 Denver
Puds
The Flood
 Sep 2020 Denver
Puds
There Are Trips To Be Made
Whilst Yesterday Remains
To While Away The Hours
To Wash Away The Stains
To Confine The Scent Of A
Flower
In The Form Of A Bud
To The Depth Of The Water
Till After The Flood.
 Aug 2020 Denver
Nicole Gaudiano
Air
 Aug 2020 Denver
Nicole Gaudiano
Air
You are like a deep breath
After spending years gasping for air
You are the brightest of days
After weathering months of storms
You are peace after a seemingly never ending war

But you’re not the air I breathe
I can do that on my own
But how nice is it to know that your breath can be synonymous with my own
To know this is ours to share
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