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Nolan Willett Apr 2022
This is where our course had led:
In our bed, in my own head,
Sheets of crimson red,
Newly-wed,
Recalling vows that were said,
“I’ll love you ‘til we’re both long dead.”
long stretches of disappointing time
have turned you blind
to your dreams
X

well, in this time i have grown my vision
now i play life’s game
with better timing and precision
O

blind as you are
you’ll trip on your past convictions
flat on your face, full of regret
X

i pray
i don’t become blind
the older i get
O

resume to live by my unwise heart
manoeuvre to where
my unsure mind sees best
O

and this is how i see i’ll win,
where you have lost,
in the cruel game of life
O

(3 O’s in a row. I win!)

or
is my youth
my fall
X

and i’m unawarely
walking down the same blinding path
as you
X

will i see
that i’m blind
life has got me outplayed and i lost?
X
Dreaming is a necessity. Like everything necessity, it’s your responsibility to preserve it from it being stolen, even if the theft is life…
  Apr 2022 Nolan Willett
Aishu
The sky wishes you good night.
The stars whisper sweet dreams.
The moon sends hugs and kisses.
  Feb 2022 Nolan Willett
Zoe Mae
Sometimes the Moon is just
the Moon
Stars simply stars
They're just reliable objects
They just are
And birds are just birds
They're pretty
They fly
Often words are just words
They're witty
They lie
And colors are just granted
Sort of like you and I
Until each pretty petal
just withers and dies
  Feb 2022 Nolan Willett
Nigdaw
I offer my prayer
to the ancient Gods
of sun and wind and rain
for they are the only ones left
when all the others have failed
  Feb 2022 Nolan Willett
Michael Angelo
Have I become a vestige of memory?
Are words the only thing keeping me....

Alive?

I fear death; both literal and metaphorical.

These letters trickle from my veins-
Crimson rain
To let you know
I'm still up there
Pouring my all
Into whatever container
You need filled.

I am not dead.....

Still
  Feb 2022 Nolan Willett
Sarah Spencer
I just found out after years
of light and loving laughter
that you've hated me all this time.
It's crazy the number
of masks in your collection,
happy and caring and loving masks
that were, in the end, too good to be true.
Just thinking about you makes me think
about the masks we all put up.
It's like every morning we wake up
to go to a huge masquerade party,
and instead of taking
our masks off at the end of the night,
we sleep with them on,
always lying, always deceiving
even when the party's over.
This poem really hurt to write. I just had a friend open up to me today with her writing and her style reminded me of this poem. I thought I'd try it out
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