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 Apr 8 EaEish
Nat Lipstadt
I asked a woman to change her curls to forever straight,
and offered $50,000 (a sum on my mind that day after a
rough day trading), to maintain said style in perpetuity

she has accomodated me now for over a decade+, but
every every, every now and every then, She pulls me
closer than close, whispers 50K~ok!, and hits me with a
hip swaying pow, her physio~verbal cueball reminder,
that poets must always pay their debts, and even forever
too,
has its poetic limitations
 Apr 6 EaEish
Aaron Beedle
We are children of stars, all of us each,
if you look way back far beyond memory's reach.
Past fire and lightning, spirit and beast,
our atoms return, and stars we complete.
This is a small section from one of my favourite poems I wrote, called Ozone. I'm posting this as an experiment, as I'm noticing the shortest poems get significantly more attention and engagement than ones over roughly 60 words or so.

It's interesting thinking about the parallels between social media and this website. I came here thinking engagement would be more evenly spread, however it seems there are very dominant trends; poems about love and sorrow seem more popular. Anything taking more than 15 seconds to digest seems to engage fewer people. Poems that people can comment on and share relatable experiences seem to do much better, while those sharing less common perspectives seem to more often go unnoticed.

Still, I shall press on! Lack of popularity is no more a sign of inadequacy than being willing to easily give up on something. I'm enjoying writing and sharing my poems for now.
Closely I observe myself from afar.
My world transforms into a perplexed dream.
Earth-toned hues shine brighter than any star.
Perception composes a wary theme.
Contorted tree limbs mock every movement.
Eyes become filled with cotton candy clouds.
Conversations are no longer fluent.
Alone I walk in a burial shroud.
I pinch my arm to make sure I’m not dead.
Numb is the only sensation I feel.
Broken shards of faith bear a tint of red.
The face in the mirror doesn’t look real.
Existence slowly crumbles into sand.
I’m a stranger who roams this foreign land.
This is my first Sonnet. I thought I'd pay homage to a condition I've had for many many years. This condition has been defined as "The Alice in Wonderland disease."  It started on New Year's Eve 1996 when I smoked *** that was laced with something. The resulting effects still plague me from time to time; however I use it to my advantage now. Instead of running from it, I write about it. I really enjoyed the challege of writing a Sonnet, but ******* are my fingers tired from tapping.
 Oct 2024 EaEish
Unpolished Ink
September rain  
falling grey on Monday faces
washes out the dusty traces
of August in the air,
coffee mug memories
warm and serene,
muse on the summer it might have been
 Oct 2024 EaEish
Unpolished Ink
Winter sunrise on my last and longest day,

wrap me in a winding sheet of flaming orange

take the reds and pinks from midnight blue to make my shroud

let me rest in heaven fire

drown my tired soul in colour

drinking the final carnival

warmth for my bones,

a funeral of skies and wonders
Saying goodbye to a good man,
 Oct 2024 EaEish
Emily Dickinson
79

Going to Heaven!
I don’t know when—
Pray do not ask me how!
Indeed I’m too astonished
To think of answering you!
Going to Heaven!
How dim it sounds!
And yet it will be done
As sure as flocks go home at night
Unto the Shepherd’s arm!

Perhaps you’re going too!
Who knows?
If you should get there first
Save just a little space for me
Close to the two I lost—
The smallest “Robe” will fit me
And just a bit of “Crown”—
For you know we do not mind our dress
When we are going home—

I’m glad I don’t believe it
For it would stop my breath—
And I’d like to look a little more
At such a curious Earth!
I’m glad they did believe it
Whom I have never found
Since the might Autumn afternoon
I left them in the ground.
 Oct 2024 EaEish
Odd Odyssey Poet
In a frantic search for my gaze,
searching my eyes just to love me- you never
truly found me in all my vibrant colours;

I apologize for the worst version of me,
that I always gave to my past lovers- I apologize
for not seeing you in all of your perfect colours;

We could have painted a beautiful picture
together.

— The End —