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 Nov 2017 Jungdok
roses are bed
I remembered in science class
We watched this video about the water cycle

They said something about rain
And how they were in those things called clouds
How over time they would cool down
And how they fall
Tiny drops plummeting to Earth
Conforming into shape wherever they ended up
In definite volume when in constant pressure and temperature
As they slowly become the makings of the oceans
Waves crushing, brushing over the shores, hiding what's below
Each wave a secret the ground could never know
But they gave it life and motion
Luscious colors, traces of red, blue, yellow
All combining into everything else, for everyone else
But they themselves only embraced what was around
Made to be see-through
But they never noticed
How in yourself you drowned

They played with you, toyed with you
Abused you, consumed you
Under the sun, broad day
In plain sight you slowly fade
But they never noticed
Until it was too late


Only then they called you, knew your name
Said something about the rain
About those clouds they didn't see
As guilty tears went down their cheeks
They call you now
But you can't speak

It's a cycle, they said
Something that never ends

Yet here I am longing



I remembered you in science class
 Nov 2017 Jungdok
Ryan Holden
I was ready to
take the leap, but I choked on
fear of losing you
In lonely moments
I stroll the waning memories
when love pure smiled blissfully
deep within a fawning heart

a wistful melody arises untainted
like a steaming enslaved passion
                         breathlessly released
                              unrestrained,..

         ­                          evident
                    as the pressed and dried flowers
          cuddled between life's ardent petaled pages,
                         bookmarks of the heart

                         traces of the wild bouquets
                         that often soothingly caress’d
                         the energizing tingles  
                         inflaming a tantalizing touch

                         the yearning  empty voids
                         feverishly undressed,
                         traced in the hidden sands
                         of unexplored oceans..
                        
                         though time and distance
make the bereft heart grow helplessly fonder,
memories fade softly as the summer breeze befalls,
  
                         as gentle feather’d touch
                         the evanescent sunset afterglow
                         where the earth and sky align
                         the dimming of the day

         loving can heal
the poet’s bleeding words,
loving can mend your soul ―

                         the perennial dawning of an
                         unpromised new day
                         will someday come again

        bequeathed like the bluebird’s mirthful song
to bring forth nascent wild flowers’ blossoming petals
              flourishing in the meadow of my heart


                 *Someone you used to know
© March 2017
Thank you for reading
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 Nov 2017 Jungdok
Star BG
TIME
 Nov 2017 Jungdok
Star BG
Time is captured in grains of sand
inside hour glass.

It's captured in the hands of a clock,
that spin continuously.
Unless
one forgets to change batteries.
But if so
time moves on anyway.
Yes, time always move on.
 Nov 2017 Jungdok
Ryan Holden
Torch embers fall down,
Descending into dust, we
Get lost in darkness
 Nov 2017 Jungdok
Emily Elliott
i want to live
that's a lie
i want to die
it doesn't matter
the pain i feel
has become too real
the brightness in my life
has quickly gone away
the darkness
overcame me
the love in my life
slipped through my fingers
the sadness
took over
the light
 Nov 2017 Jungdok
Ryan Holden
We play with fire
In dark, hoping we both feel
burns on our hearts.
 Nov 2017 Jungdok
Lior Gavra
Organic has touch,
Metal outlasts.
Organic has sound,
Metal just echoes.
Organic has cushion,
For emotions within.
Metal stays strong,
Can take the toughest hits.

Organic has taste,
Depending what it ate.
Metal vibrates,
To try to imitate.
Organic has colors,
Metal has paint.
Organic forgets,
Metal just waits.

Organic fades,
Metal floats in gray.
Organic needs air,
To sustain health.
But Metal stays,
Right near our chests.
Organic craves,
As Metal engraves.

Organic understands,
Metal just learns.
Organic has a name,
Metal has a brand.
But for some reason,
Found more in our hands.
Keep organic close,
And to metal stand.
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