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 May 2017 Ramsha
JM Ang
Sometimes we tell ourselves lies
An attempt to reassure ourselves
On those days when nobody else can

And some days we lie to ourselves
Just so we can live
On those days we just can’t otherwise

And after some time we forget
What was real and what was make-believe
And we end up believing
These lies we tell ourselves
where the river runs
is a ghost
blue as the sky

i want the beauty
of my mind
to run through
my pen

i want the sky
to cast its shadows
of the shadowy clouds
to where
darkness flows
and the moon,
the arching moon,
grows cold,

love could not be
more beautiful
when i am,
flower of the wind
sea of dark sky
ghost of a river
that runs.
Since times Immemorial
Mankind has held on to Memories
Of All kinds .

Carbon dating has been done
On Some
In the Caves of lost Civilisations
Still ,deeply etched on the Rocks
To Which ,
Weather has never played a Spoilsport.

Heirloom Jewellery,
Antique paintings and Artifacts
Passed down the generations
Well Preserved.

With the Advent of Technology
Memories made
Whenever & Wherever.

Saved , Deleted, Retrieved

You name it & It is done
Print or Digital
All Fun .
Have been making a lot of memories with family, extended family and some old friends. :)
A little inactive on HP, lately.
 May 2017 Ramsha
Ryan Holden
How many rhymes and lines,
Have met the same paper,
With the same pen,
Minds thoughts and designs,
Differ from poet to next,
Lyricists to artists,
Beginning a new quest,
Breaking and making,
Pain and love,
Experienced emotions lay down,
Written in rhythm,
Express to distress,
Tearing page after page,
Of flooding emotions,
Signature of similar,
Inked on white,
Within multiple occasions,
How many authors,
Write the same write?
Whilst I was picking a new topic to write, I suddenly thought, how many writers write the same thing, in similar form, but the writers aren't aware of!
 May 2017 Ramsha
Born
she's a corrosive story
Hidden within a mirror
Never to be heard again

As I gulp down my favorite cheap *****
I wondered  with amazement at my ignorance
And the vicious adage that crippled me
love is blind

You were a ruthless callous soul
and still
remnants of your cold heart still linger in my thoughts
loving you was devastating
 May 2017 Ramsha
Olivia A Keaton
I wish it would
well rain harder
I wish that
the sky water would be salty
like my tears.
this way both could slide down my face unidentifiable
I wish the thunder was louder
just to help save me from my thoughts

I love how
well simply how
I'm walking to the beat,
crunching gravel to meet the sound
of my favorite song
even though it's no longer playing
I love that
the rain is blurring my vision
eventhough I couldn't see anyway
I love that with every step
I'm taking a shower
the rain provides me with good cleansing
I'm slowly scrubbing away every
remark, laugh, judge, scar and stain
and as my jeans, blouse, and shoes get wet,
I'm washing away some of this too
hidden deep within the seams

and yet some people wonder
why
why does she like the rain
well
It's not just rain
it's a friend
that I can talk to and actually leave with
a cleansed soul.
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