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 Jun 9 Seema
Satsih Verma
The coming again-
of a submerged face
in silence. No black magic.

No dreaming, no moon.
We grieve together. How
many out fingers were lost?

Just like this I am
sure. It was not
any cognitive impairment.

I want to forget
myself. A revelation
has pulled me out from
burning pyre.
intending a sip
but end up taking a dip

when unrestrained the urge
one is bound to submerge

a desire untamed
none to be blamed

restraining self is the best way
otherwise be ready to pay....
Trees stay rooted

Sway in gay abandon

Bracing for the storms

Giving what they can
For almost 2 days, now, I have been wondering what has been going on.

I can't upvote and comment on poems, and most poems that I see posted have no view counts.

By now one would have hoped that the fallen would gotten back on their feet.

I just wish there was a voice out there, somewhere, instead of speculating.

Logan Robertson

Update-Today marks the sixth day of being in the dark. The lump in my throat has gotten bigger. I
feel choked and can't swallow the wheels falling off
of this site. Some poem submissions appear to be normal, some not. I just tried reposting Elliot's and Darrel Langstrom's last poems which are very foretelling of where we are today and I hit a snag. My hands, now, are up in the air and I don't like that feeling.
 Jun 2 Seema
Hit em with poetry
Some knuckles
And a fist of ink

Your pen is sword


All you have to do is

Slice em with words
Hit em with
Your arsenal of alphabetic slurs

Your heart is the cure

The world needs to observe
And all that's heard


The sound

When poetry hits a frown
It turns it
Right side up

Hit em with poetry
My friends


Sometimes the world
Needs to wake up
 Jun 1 Seema
Pagan Paul
A month of Sundays intrudes darkly
upon a beautiful soft new Spring.
Casting the shadows of confusion,
growing hope for what Summer may bring.

© Pagan Paul (06/04/20)
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