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 Oct 2017 mtapia
Rashvin
We know dark night will end,
with a sunrise.
a beautiful song will finish,
for a silence.
But we get scared of that darkness
or celebrate that some minutes.

You are the only permanent,
for yourself not for others.
Be you, just you.
We all know some bad moments will. Come to life as we enjoy some beautiful moments. And we celebrate those with sadness or happiness while we don't have a moderate form.
 Oct 2016 mtapia
phil roberts
ART?
 Oct 2016 mtapia
phil roberts
My words and my poems
Are no more than explanations
And embellishments
My means of expression
For my life is my "art"
It's what I am and what I write
It's why I need to write
To make sense of the things
I've seen and done
And there are times when
I think I've done far too much
Then, in deep contemplation
I realise I could have done more
And that kind of inner debate
And discussion with myself
Are a large part of my life
Which becomes my version
Of something like "art"

                                         By Phil Roberts
 Oct 2016 mtapia
Lora Lee
There is a kinetic  c e l e b r a t i o n
throughout the entire universe--
both known and unknown;
  each molecule a universe to itself-

a world interconnected;
of sub-atomic celebrators
filling all time and space
perpetually valuing value itself

Value--
who, at its prime core
is in itself
the self-celebration
of hope/value= Love- (tagline) #healing

    and it is everywhere.
                  Yet, we.. are unaware.

Loving words
  (all that is real)
align with the celebration-
   of the kinetic-heal

and they pick up the magic
(the receivable rendition)
allowed into the receiver
through the act of volition

and suddenly we become aware.

••••


I am  melting  into   you--

and in the blend   of us
I am finding   the
c l a r i fi c ation      of me--  a
process  until today

I never believed in.

Once rolling alone
I am finding
the word  h o m e
in everything  
    that     you do

    e v er y- t h i n g.
          
                              -by paulSN
This is not my poem but by my friend, Paul, who you knew as paulSN, with this message to you all:

Written on 10/03/16 and cast into the universe-- a love-note of encouragement.. to all.
https://goo.gl/photos/tZtB7AVmAKKvdgUX6
Peace **
~paulSN
 Oct 2016 mtapia
PrttyBrd
Sugar High
 Oct 2016 mtapia
PrttyBrd
She glistens in shades of rose wine
Warmth melting inhibitions
Flesh begging to be devoured
A hint of its sweetness
beckons as it lingers on still air
Molten steel
Heat rises
A gentle touch
Electricity liquefies
There, in the light
transformed by a glance
that holds a promise of passion
Aquiescence in liquid candy
She is consumed
He is ravenous
yearning to be sated
Yet, feeding the very hunger
that drives him
straight through her soul
10616
 Oct 2016 mtapia
Ben
Peach
 Oct 2016 mtapia
Ben
I carry this pit
With me everyday

Sometimes it's in my
Stomach
My back
My neck
The bottoms of
My feet
The back of my
Mind

It never goes
Away
It just moves

It seems to grow
Barbs when my
Thoughts shift
To it
As they usually
Do seemingly
Out of nowhere

Sometimes early
In the morning
Or late at night
Depending on how
You look at things
I can feel the pit
In mid transit

Looking for the
Discarded trash and
Snapped twigs of
A new nest
A new perch to
Take up residence

There is no point
To the pit
It is absurd
Because it exists
It is the
Materialization
Of all the

Rejected submissions
Sideways glances
Passing snickers
Passive aggressive emails
Shelves of unread books
Dust bunnies in the corner
Creaking of floor boards
Board meetings

Clenching of teeth behind
Closed lips

The fading din of a
Conversation as you
Enter the room

Obelisks of junk mail
That choke the
Arteries of the earth

Lies that canoe through
Your teeth into
The sea of
Pointless small talk

Time

A peach rotting
In a ceramic bowl
In a watercolor kitchen
Until the only thing left
Is the pit
 Oct 2016 mtapia
Stephan


I write these poems
for only one reason
I don’t care the day
or the time or the season

If flowers are blooming
or skies are bright blue
If meadowlarks sing midst
the fresh morning dew

If butterflies float
on a warm summer breeze
Or moonlight reflects
off of calm evening seas

If snow flurries fall
ever soft on the ground
Or musical whispers
are flitting around

If day turns to night
or night turns to day
If it starts to rain
washing it all away

If the sunrise is coming
or stars glow above
I write these poems
so she knows she is loved
Ok, I know this isn't one of my best but
sometimes you just need to tell her she is loved, because...she is.

— The End —