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It flies amongst the stars.
Flashes for a moment.
Despite the left scars.
Holds a place close, yet far.

It carries the fallen.
From mistaken paths.
To reaches impossible.
And develops new plans.

It creates new countries.
Raises dead soldiers.
Stamps unsung heroes.
With a feeling of free.

Hear its silent sound.
Open up your eyes.
Place it in your heart.
Elevate from the ground.

It helps us climb.
Better than rope.
Do you see its shape?
It is hope.
forever would be nice – in fact, something along the lines of infinite quality time with you*

there are just some dreams that I will stand by and keep watch
i’m hoping that your lantern heart won’t fade out
and one day permeate through my darkened atmosphere
i’m surveying my constellations; you’re darting across nebulas
we are a multiverse –
still more than worlds apart

but more than anything I want to stay
if what we have transcends the laws of space
i need you to dream with me
be more than my soulmate
carry the moonlight in your eyes
but don't forget to illuminate us before we part
i know it by now -
but i have no one to tell it to

my soul is dense in emotions;
nothing displeases me more

but i don't try to escape
i'm surrendering to this quicksand
i don't want you to rescue me

but please help me save myself
at least before the dusk arrives
because sadness is just too easy-
too familiar for someone like me
The sky is maddening, the seas are glowing and she is still loving
Will you for once, fall in love with me today and let it last forever?

I will keep your heart so safe so sound,
You will know you're home.

Every day even though I don't see you,  I continue to adore you more and more.

Your smile perfumes the air and your gaze as alluring as the midnight sun; how are you anything short of pure magic?

My heart is caged by misery and longing, it beats and bleeds waiting for you to come back.

See the colors in my eyes for you and know that all i feel is true; nobody feels the way I do about you right now.

Love,
Me
I would put three sets of leaves;
a bud, one green and one brown.
To show our world has seasons
That perpetually go around.

I would put in an expensive watch
To show that time is precious,
And so that when it stops working
They'll know that time is not endless.

I would put in the Sacred Texts,
To show that man has a Spirit
But I would add in a strict warning
That they should not abuse it.

I would put in a massive blanket,
Made from fabrics across countries in Africa
To show that diversity is the spice of life
And our world is beautiful because it has colour.

I would put in some earth wrapped in gold
And water in a bottle of pure silver.
To show that the true treasures of our planet
Are the grasslands and the valleys, the deserts, the rivers.

I would put in the West African Drum
To show that inside every person,
Lies an ever beating heart
That dances to life's rhythm.
My Response to this question.
5. If all of the world´s cultural heritage (sports, music, fashion, architecture, literature, painting, etc.) were to be enclosed in a time capsule, what would you include?
 Feb 2017 Porter Olsson
Sky
Ah, you're warm and safe,
yet distant, a little bit cold
It'll take some getting used to,
but I'm willing to try.
 Feb 2017 Porter Olsson
KB
I am what you’re alive for, and I’ll let you start over,
And over again, before the last chance you have is done.
My name is life; though it’s not always fun.
I live in your veins and breathe in your heart,
My name is passion, and I am very smart.
You were born to use me,
To live by me,
And to inhale and exhale me.
My name is love.
You can’t run away from passion, life, or love
But this might inspire you to bring out what’s underneath to above,
To let your inner Van Gogh out or maybe, just your soul.
Pleasing anything and everything but you,
They made it your ultimate life goal.
You may still think that’s exactly what you want.
Engineers, lawyers, doctors with crazy fonts.
But you come to think that maybe that’s not for everyone…
And for that, they all make fun.
But maybe, you’re good for something that doesn’t need you
To memorize formulas, letters, numbers, symbols alike, it’s true!
Maybe you, need to be memorizing shapes, lines, colours, and words that rhyme.
Despite the way no one else has your kind of flow, it isn’t a crime.
Don’t worry about judges or surgeons, with their fancy titles and big pay,
They have their own light, their own great ways.
If you’re better with a paintbrush, then stroke away, or splash, or stipple.
Anything to show them that art is not that simple.
Its takes courage to speak out what the world craves to be said,
If one doesn’t write books or poems, there’s nothing that will be left to be read,
And children rely on stories, it’s what keeps them innocent.
It also keeps the rest of us wide awake and vigilant.
So the world bursts at the seams,
With people aching to fulfill their vibrant dreams,
Of being the ones who can finally fly; oh so very high.
The world is bursting at the seams,
With people craving to feel the colours in ungrouped teams,
That pop and crackle and spark when touched.
Turn into stardust and glitter but in the hands, are tightly clutched.
But there might be a need of people,
Who love dandelions more than roses,
Who stand strong, even as every door closes.
Who play with ice rather than fire,
Who from their risk takings, would never retire.
And who rather they feel the softness of the sand
When the wind blows it around on the beach in their hands,
Than the blankets that they sleep on.
Who look to clean the chessboard of their enemy’s pawns.
But what we see is mainly what we hope to find,
And if we look at life with love we can find it to be amiable and kind,
One can achieve their goals if they let go of the headaches for a second.
Impossibilities should never be counted, thought of, or reckoned.
So breathe; you don’t have much left of your fast travelling time line.
Recite; you don’t have much air left but your voice is just so fine.
Write and your fingertips will never stop screaming,
Just like if you run, you will never stop beaming,
Never hitting the pavement with the steps of wraith.
And if you can feel... then you will always keep close faith.
You have not badly slipped, or played the wrong note.
Because even in the midst of beautiful gardens,
Weeds were never remote.
And then you walk through the streets of love.
Hand in hand with a culture fitting you like a glove,
As the smoke draws you in a feeling not unfit;
Feelings your heart clenches; at least you can hold it.
Some have lost this rare, valued treasure,
In the waters of functions and formulas, always measured.
So never swim with them if you are one to tight line,
At the end of your life you can say, “This life is mine.”
Always one to dream, never one to follow
Never let them tell you the mind is hollow
Always experiment, don’t be the child of a shadow.
And they put art at the lowest hierarchies,
Displacing the solution to locks on creativity.
Saying art is nothing but they don’t know where we’d be
Had shapes not evolved and paintbrushes never
Met paint and gave birth to an image you can see.
That you mixed and threw together, you’re clever,
No canvas should ever be empty,
Odd reasons say still… there are plenty.
And only an artist can solve that problem.
Breathing life into objects, one can make into an emblem.
So now what you do without math, science, or neither?
Yeh… I wouldn’t give up either.
 Feb 2017 Porter Olsson
KB
the sun and the moon and all of the dust between the height of your wings, they used to be full of flight but now I can touch the ice of orange rays and the red of dented craters beneath the pads of my ever fumbling fingers and it gives off a smoke in my stomach that even bullet exit wounds don't leave behind. i'm craving fizzy drinks again to numb out the stars in my eyes that won't stop constellating the white hope in your burning palms, have you been climbing blue fences again? the night doesn't tire often but the last comet that flew by last January the 7th looked exhausted and it had something to do with the way you blinked away fire from the moments you forgot to count
I used to eye her more than books.

She had good looks
and for me
in the library
she killed the dullness of patience
the stifled air of silence
with her lips' hidden smile
that was quite a diversion
from pouring over yellowed pages
all the while.

In the garden I sought my chance
but she resisted any advance
telling me it's not her
I needed to be in my mind
but a job I must find
for couldn't be raised a family
merely loving in the library.

I think she gave me love
when I needed a job
but by the time I earned the bread
she was already married.

Once I thought of her as Miss Giving
but now as I look back
I have serious misgiving.
My third in the Miss series, part true and part fiction, writing this brought some cheers to one of the hardest times of life been passing through.
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1279850/miss-take/
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1778123/miss-place/
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