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 Jul 2018 Trish
Flo
I beg for Pardon
 Jul 2018 Trish
Flo
Some men make me worry
Degrading treatment towards women seems to be ok
On their behalf I would like to say sorry
This kind of bahaviour needs to stop today

As a guy it sickens me
The sheer amount of disrespect
Rating women, calling them a lousy three
Something in your head must be defect

The other day I heard a colleague say
Don't worry about their names
I'm saving them by the codes
Each letter leading me on different roads

"S" means hot, "X" is for a one time use
I was aghast, no I was shocked
In my opinion this is resembling abuse
After that further chat had to be blocked

A dark day for a believer of human dignity
No human should be reduced to an object
Fellow men, stand up when facing this immorality
This is a wrong we need to correct
I wrote this poem about half a year ago after being confronted with the above mentioned situation. I was debating whether I should publish this poem at all, as there are a lot of poems popping up especially in regard to the "me too" and "time is up" movement and I did no want to "jump on the train" so the say. However, I think it is important to stick up when facing wrongs like these no matter if this relates to women or men alike.

Cheers to the believers of human dignity!
 Jul 2018 Trish
Keith Wilson
I was walking leisurely
one fine day
I found a shortcut
on the way
but it wasn't to be
I landed up under a tree
grazed my arm
and my knee
The root of the tree
I didn't see

A young lass lifted me
up from the grass
She was half my age
so I didn't mind
the fall
Shaking, she took me
home for tea
All because of the root
that I couldn't see
 Jul 2018 Trish
Aslam M
Trapped
 Jul 2018 Trish
Aslam M
Some in our Minds
Some in our Hearts.
Some in our Eyes
Some in our Dreams.  
Some in Cages
Some in Pages.
Some in Frames
And Some in Bodies .....
 Jul 2018 Trish
Thalia
Maybe it was
your smile,
or your eyes
or the way you spoke
that made my heart
race
—a bit

Maybe it was
your hair
soaking wet,
or your body
peeking through
your dripping shirt
or your arms
which I thought
would be perfect
around me
that made me not
take my eyes
off of you
—for a short time

Maybe it was
your artistic hand
and how you speak
through your
paintbrushes,
or how you can
create a world
of your own
with your craft
that made me
admire you
—for quite
some time

But this,
I know for sure;
It was the way
you smiled at me,
and how
your eyes shrank
when you did;
It was the way
you spoke to me
with the
right words
that night
when I needed it
the most
that is making
my heart race
—until now

It was the way
you touched my
soaking tangled hair,
your body
close to mine;
when you put
your arms
around me
and told me
I was worth it
when I cried
that made me not
take my eyes
off of you
—everytime
I had
the chance

It was the way
your art
drew itself
into my heart;
how you
knocked down
my walls
from the tips
of your
paintbrushes
without you
knowing;
and
how you
created
a new world
for me
with your craft
of making
people happy
that made me
admire you
—for a long time

But I hope
you would
never
feel the same
for me
—even though
I badly
want you to
because
I'm a mess,
and I don't want
to be
the one
who will
destroy
all the things
I adored
about you

I hope you
would never
feel the same
because I
don't know
if I could
love you right.
I hope you
would never
feel the same
because
I don't
really know
how to love
—at all

—You're just too good for me
 Jul 2018 Trish
Lizzie
Another Seuss
 Jul 2018 Trish
Lizzie
I've never been great at poetry;
The process always fails for me.
While mister Poe and Shakespeare last,
My writing ends up in the trash.

Their writing style, lost with age,
Their wisdom hid in ev'ry page,
The glory given where it's due -
These are things I cannot do.

My writing's forced; theirs doth flow.
I say it blunt; they say it slow.
Those areas that bless and move
Are places where I can't improve.

So why, with my lack of skill,
Do I keep on writing still?
With such a hopeless case as this,
You'd think I would already quit!

There was a time when I did -
My desk was shut; my pen was hid.
Then something occurred to me
Which changed it all instantly.

If Dr. Seuss had Shakespeare tried,
And Mr. Poe glorified,
And given up in dismay,
We wouldn't have his books today.

So keep on writing how you do
With that style unique to you.
Put your mind into use
(You just might be another Seuss)!
 Jul 2018 Trish
Cné
Is It
 Jul 2018 Trish
Cné

Is it the wave kissing the sand
          or is it the ocean
                   deep from her heart
sometimes gently,
                                  often hard,
but always with passion?

Is it the sand kissing back
        or is it the land
            happily losing ground
with every kiss
             to his eternal mistress,
the occupant of his soul?

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