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 May 2017 Dharker
wordvango
someone asked me once
what is it you love about life
had to think  long and hard
it should have been easy
A world made of glass. Each one of us lives hidden in his own
little world made of glass. The problem with glass is that no matter how
wary we are it breaks easily.
We're like souls made of glass which we entrust in the hands of others.
Will they be watchful?
Giving a battle in this world with one little precious and fragile piece of glass which breaks by the time leaves us wounds. Glass does not hang back and the old cracks still exist.
It will only acquire its primary form if it's heated in the proper temperature.
I wonder, is there anyone in this world who could do that?
 May 2017 Dharker
Ryan Holden
How many rhymes and lines,
Have met the same paper,
With the same pen,
Minds thoughts and designs,
Differ from poet to next,
Lyricists to artists,
Beginning a new quest,
Breaking and making,
Pain and love,
Experienced emotions lay down,
Written in rhythm,
Express to distress,
Tearing page after page,
Of flooding emotions,
Signature of similar,
Inked on white,
Within multiple occasions,
How many authors,
Write the same write?
Whilst I was picking a new topic to write, I suddenly thought, how many writers write the same thing, in similar form, but the writers aren't aware of!
 May 2017 Dharker
Ryan Holden
This affliction,
my enemy,
Vast pain,
Frosty end for me,
Agony undying truth,
Something incurable,
The undying hope
Something durable.

My loved ones,
Notice I'm weak,
She will notice
I'm brittle,
True love I seek,
My strength, very little.

Torn between truth,
Not the athlete from youth,
Working hour after hour,
Crippled my body,
A fragile skeleton,
I embody.

My grandkids,
Inspired,
Regardless if grandpa,
Retired,
Cherishing moments,
In life,
I'll wisp away,
Still my wife.

Goodbye,
Beautiful queen,
I've loved you,
Since I was eighteen.
An old poem I wrote about my grandad passing away. I went back and edited it a little but it was the second poem I wrote. So sorry if it's not great but it's close to my heart. I wrote it from his perspective to my grandma.
 May 2017 Dharker
Pagan Paul
Valleys
 May 2017 Dharker
Pagan Paul
My thoughts drift slow and lazy
through the valleys of my mind,
reaching out for answers,
searching for something I left behind.

My memories were here once before
with darkness, screams and pain,
the intense fire of creative spirit
dampened to pulp by a wicked brain.

So where did I leave myself
when I escaped in to my head?
I've deconstructed the mental walls
to discover the places I had fled.

Between. Betwixt. Bewitched. Be still,
a balm to soothe this anxious seer.
My thoughts drift slow and lazy
through the valleys of my fears.


© Pagan Paul (20/05/17)
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