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  Dec 2014 Bassam A
curlygirl
Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.
  Dec 2014 Bassam A
Rob Rutledge
A sleeping satellite peeks
Over the shoulders of Orion
Late on a clear christmas eve.
Winking at the world below
The light reflects off passing clouds
A slice of silver flows.
Trickling into far cast shadows
Bathed in an incandescent glow.

The moon lays resplendent
The crowning jewel of the sky
Where many a tired traveller
Became lost within her eyes.
Disguising the fire of the sun
Basking in the pale half-light
Untill this night is done.
And
When the moon gives way
To the cold light of day.
The stars are kept at bay.
Hidden out of sight
Furious
At their chains that bind them to the night.
  Dec 2014 Bassam A
wordvango
to blame or commend
fate had I don't think nothing
to do with your predicaments
I had those same demands
ate from supermarkets
planned not this
didn't ever feel tradition had a hand in making my destiny
  Dec 2014 Bassam A
Archita
Waking up in the morning.
The day isn't bright.
Calm as water to the people
Volcanoes erupting on the inside.

The box of thoughts you lock away,
Pretending you've lost the keys.
Nights you spend in a corner.
What is it you seek?

You walk on a tight rope
Falling, your only choice.  
Blink, and people will notice
The tears forming in your eyes.

Storm's coming your way.
And you've been out with only an umbrella.
You think you are strong?
The fake laughters and smiles.
You've been at it for much too long.

The days will be brighter,
Shorter will be the nights.
You've been carrying a river inside you
For quite a while.
I know you can't try harder,
But love, it's okay to cry.
  Dec 2014 Bassam A
Crystal Erickson
The epiphanies of my failures
and the reaper of reputations
strip me to the bone
strip me to the bone, and leave me bare to dry
licked repeatedly by the incinerating
UV rays of humanity.
Care not for me.
Care not.
Hold me never.
Laugh, laugh and walk away.

Left to my own, my ingenuity.
I build myself, I create myself.
I unbrainwash myself!
Years of reconstruction.
I succeed to emerge a greatness.
An inner entity of amazement.
No one understands.

Failure?  I wonder..
Pain always lingering in the depths.
Inadequacies, *******.
I push past, deal with, and battle face to face.
To leave dismembered on the floor.
Step on it, stomp it deep.
plunge it down to surface again in light.

ME
hold me, love me if your able.
Never take for granted,
my soul, not of this life.
This place, these people, this society.
I am light.
Capable of so many inconceivable things.
I am light
I need only when I let myself need.
I need you, only if to see me.
The true me,
The me no one can possibly see.
I cry, I love, I feel, I am awakened!

© Crystal Erickson 11/24/07
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