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  Nov 2017 Ponds
Angie S
i wonder what your name
looks like in my handwriting
if i weren't as shy as i am
i would have overcrowded a notebook
just of the way your i's are dotted
what frightens me is that
your hands don't agonize over my name
don't at least motion the symbols in the air
much less write them
and i wonder what my name
looks like in your handwriting
if you curl the e the same i would curl yours
or if you bestow your personal touch upon it
either way it would look beautiful
i would adore any name you'd write for me

i wonder what your name
looks like in my handwriting
but honestly i worry that
i cannot do it justice
wrote this one in 5 minutes. i'm procrastinating and i'm stressed and insert more negative things here. worst of all, i am still chased by one thought, and i worry i cannot do anything about it.

i'm nervous to write it, but if i had to write just one thing for the rest of my life, it would be those letters that make up your name.
  Oct 2017 Ponds
Lior Gavra
Strange place, strange ways, each stay away!
Then why are there two roads to take?

The maps and paths, and followed tracks.
And Google, Waze, we trust their facts.
Turn left, turn right we let it steer.
To miss a turn, we start to fear.

Across to tolls, collect control.
Like little soldiers, do as told.
Planned flights and crowds, comfort in traps.
Are we confined in our skin wraps?

Some lost, pretend to just be found.
Some found, act lost, pretty profound.
To take that step, the unprotected.
To turn towards, the unexpected.
A wasteful plan, we must forget it.
Insane repeat, and do we test it?

Misdirection, to find us love.
Misdirection, to find us trends.
Misdirection, finds ideas.
Misdirection, to find us friends.
Misdirection to free in stress.
Misdirection leaves no regrets.

Let one misdirection find you.
Let one misdirection guide you.
Let one misdirection define
And be the reason, you are you.
Ponds Oct 2017
"Everything eventually parts with
Anything, my dear."
But do endings
Always have to be
The saddest part?
Ponds Oct 2017
Your words
Are waterfalls
That flows deep
Into my soul.
There, I find
That mirrors
Parts of me
Which I cannot
Or see.
  Oct 2017 Ponds
I met a man whose eyes beamed with an unfamiliar pain,
And yet he forged a convincing smile.
He sat across from me, with an identical cup of tea,
Began to tell me his story, and allowed me to relive a part of History;
He spoke to me as though I were his own child –
With such gentleness and wisdom;
With a mind that censored just how much of his tale should be told.
I sensed his odd fondness towards me,
And I knew that, such a time as this, was what he had been waiting for.
At first, he found it difficult to express even the slightest emotion,
But eventually, the tears began to gleam in his eyes;
It would seem as though my silence and presence, crumbled unseen concrete walls,
And gave way to the view of  an unfortunate life;
A life lived by a man who loved, until love refused to give.

I know a man who once sewed his heart on his sleeve;
Open on display for the world to see,
Because that was the person whom he wanted to be –
“The man whose love for his neighbor, was as vast as the sea” –
At least that’s what he told me.
Then came the day when his tides began to change.
Strong winds blew in, and the acidic rain came.
And it poured and it stormed,
Until what he loved the most, was washed away.
And then, as though the storms that roared, wasn’t enough,
The hand of fate ripped his heart out of the woman he loved.

I met a man who once believed
That, no matter what the world conceived,
He would never cease to love.
But when his belief was put to the ultimate test,
He chose to hate, and his fervent affection came to a permanent rest.
Hi final words to me, were that of a plea:
He said, “I’ve made a thousand mistakes, but that was worst of them all.
I gave up quickly, without a fight, just when life took its first hard fall.
For years, I’ve missed the man I was, but in you, I can see the man I wanted to be.

I knew a man who knew me beforehand,
who has watched me walk these streets.
Who felt compelled to observe my endeavors,
And found it redemptive to take interest in me.
He knew that, one day, he'd sit across from me, to ask that I be wiser than he.
For his life would have been a complete waste, if years from now, I'm looking through the eyes that I see.
  Oct 2017 Ponds
Karan Gambhir
In this world full of chaos
I try to find solace
I try to find peace

In a place
Where there are foxes everywhere but no sheeps
I try to find a soul who is same as me

In this world of  fake smiles and cunning minds
I try to find someone divine
Someone with a sacred soul and a beautiful mind
  Oct 2017 Ponds
Tufayl Myburgh
Writing creates a paradigm.

Much like a camera, it is a paradigm that we can look through in order to see the world, or create one, from a different perspective.

I decided to step away from my art and look at the lens itself instead of looking through it.

What I found is that we are able to paint pictures with words, pictures that don’t exist and we can create artworks with those pictures that allow you to see them in the most magical way possible while knowing that each artwork is different and unique depending on the person that composes it.

It is being able to travel the world as we know it through symbols and letters while not moving an inch from where we are in time and lead ourselves to a beautiful yet twisted sense of duality.

Maybe it’s the feeling of godhood in creating life, worlds or even stories yet I am still human but I become a god outside of time.

I take my imagination and make it tangible.

They say actions speak louder than words but I am a writer and words are all I have. So, maybe one day, as these words drip from my fingertips they will find you and they will drown your thoughts with beautiful pictures and hopefully, you might just understand,

Why we write.

They say actions speak louder than words,

But there’s still a reason why the pen is mightier than the sword.
Trying to express a passionate love with words is harder than it looks...
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