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They’re just things, they said. They can be replaced.

30-year-old handwritten letters from friends.
Photos of a place that no longer exists.
The stuffed animal that had a name.
The quilt grandma sewed for me.

You have your memories, they said.

But my possessions were the keys to my  mind’s drawers.
My old life is locked away.
I can't see it now,
through the smoke and flames.
I can't smell it,
only the  poisonous odor of melting vinyl.
I can't hear it,
just the crackling and crashing of the trees.

You’re lucky to be alive, they said.

But I'm having trouble proving I'm alive.
I have no passport, drivers license or diploma.
No utility bill,  birth certificate, or computer hard drive.
No Social Security card.

Some have it worse than you, they said.

Some always have it worse.
I didn't lose a husband, mother or child.
Just my cats. I thought they would follow me out the door
but they ran in the other direction.
I try to think of them in the forest somewhere,
climbing trees, and
not as charred bones.

But
I have the car.
I still have the car. I will drive it far
far away
from here.
A BLANK PAGE

restless, aware of time, as
it passes, slower then a single
thought to reach my brain-there
a blank page- sits to stare me
down, it threatens to expose my
failure, once more I feel the silence
surround me, taking hold to build like
the darkness outside, it swallows me
whole, still I am unprepared, trying
to avoid  the unavoidable, still, no words
will come I am wordless, having no
rhyme or reason with which to clear
the impasse- while, she in the
other room, sleeps the dreams of
one who's life is uncomplicated, for them
it comes easy they do not struggle, as I do
for them everything is a black or white concept
and in the morning she will rise, refreshed
unaware, I am not there; not to worry,  she thinks
I must be out taking a walk, to clear my head
she knows my routine, as she continues setting
for breakfast-coffee and condiments, assuming
I'll be back, as the minutes click on, she takes
another sip of her warming coffee, and stares
out the window waiting for my eventual return.

By Michael Perry
 Feb 2020 Tyler Matthew
GreenMan
The church tower crows

Drifting black kites

In organised rows

Revelling in the heights


Why do they fly?

Just for the love of it

Why do they cry?

To let us all know of it
My first attempt at rhyming poetry.
First Line: The Most Popular Words on HP

those  selected below, are copied from the current top line of the Words section on HP,  which I believe, represent the most often used/“popular” words on the site.

love      time      heart      life      eyes      feel      day      
mind      night      things      left      find      long

when  I find love next time, and the next time,
the heart that has powered this life,
will avoid the trapping eyes that initialize the
first feel, the first contact, those things that are
the mind seducers, whether,
one, if by day
two, if by night

which is it?
love is blind, but we all dream of love at first sight!

which’s why, I’ve left the world of find,
long ago, deciding that love will find me in its own
peculiar time, way, method, until that occurs,
dreaming of that happenstance will inspire
a poem of the day, each day,
until time postpones either my
heart or mind, my senses, or the search is concluded,
which will most likely be through my jewels,

my very own words
 Jun 2019 Tyler Matthew
FreeMind
The hour hand, the minute hand, the second hand
All move in unison
Forming the ultimate
18:00
It is time
I whisper "Happy Birthday" to myself
18
After all these years
I have finally gained enough courage
To cut my arm with the blade
Vertically
Leaving no words
no memories
no stories
Behind
Just warm blood, yet to turn cold
With my corpse
Already dressed black
For the funeral


-FreeMind
June 18, 2019
#88
 Nov 2018 Tyler Matthew
Marlina
We think of now.
Of how we live.
In hope of Joy.
In Love
And Peace.
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