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shadows deepening
snow topped indigo mountains
flamingo pink skies
camped by a glacial lake
watching the end of the day
a single ****** swims past
its wake a thin silver line
then a loon calls from far off
and my heart disentangles
as the universe floods in
and washes away my pain
in a deep ocean of stars
bliss incandescent
Choka
 Jun 2016 Adrian Newman
Free Bird
Always pay attention
When someone else is speaking
If it didn't mean something to them
They wouldn’t talk about it at all

Always listen closely
For the answers you are seeking,
May be closer than you think
Found in the ramblings of that call

Imagine if you will
A world where everyone cared
Where they leaned ear in intently
Instead of filling our heads with doubt

Maybe we'd all be happier;
Collectively less scared
We could solve all of life's problems
If we just heard everybody out

You see confidence builds greatness
Yet we continue to put each other down
Jealousy and rage keep us from turning the page
Even when the story could teach us something profound
i am a mere word of this page
and you are the phrases i admire most that i can't have.
at least give me a proof of sentence,
that i am still part of your paragraph.
i've never thought that this boundless sea of whiteness
can be so lonesome.
the large gap between us and other words,
feels like the vastness of the ocean,
drowning me in and out of the pages.*

©IGMS
the untold story of the lonely word
Poets, like
madmen and prophets,
are banned from
the Kingdom of Reason,
as they are
the progeny of the sun
(the sun who illumines as he blinds)
and the siblings
of the rays
who never tire
of beating
the world into
magnificent new shapes
that fascinate us
all – including
Unwavering Moon whose
lonesome secret is to be
madly in love
with the rainbow.

© LazharBouazzi, May 26, 216
a poet i did not know
i sail through life blithely
mouthing prayers
but do i show
the love of God Or do i
forget it as i go

a poet i did not read
a poet who passed on
joining the ranks in heaven
yes, that mighty throng
does he look down
and smile on us
now that he is gone?

a poet i did not read
a poet who knew Christ
perhaps better than myself
when cut comes to slice
perhaps now i'll
know meaning
i'll take my
own advice

the advice i give my family
the advice i give my friends
you never know the poem

until

the

poem

ends



SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/8/2016
R.I.P.
Chris G Valliencourt

please read
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1653116/poem
/when-you-die-it-will-be-your-dreams-that-
are-remembered/

Please. Let's love each other.
Put aside our differences today
in honor of Chris.

I think he would like that.


I will be off site today for a while.
I'm going back to my wellness camp.
I remember— we loved,
In stone cottage of hours
And the birds sang so high
To eternals of new sunrise,
You were everlasted, eyed,
My beauty, ageless, in kind,
I was purely anythings thus
As we once lived in a future
Of days light, a wonderment
More than always, devoted,
Yours and mine in entwined
Direction, the flanged arrow
Of time as it thrusts, freely,
Only forwards belonging,
Where, in the our future,
There is remembering.
Singing with a stolen voice
Borrowed tongue, the song of choice
Would have to be
Of ice and fire majesty.

To run from here on others' feet
A differed meter, with which to meet
A girl whom I've known before
Though now we drink and gamble more.

Her persona, then, was gently sore;
I see none of the scars we bore
As children, though now I see
The scars she left now complete me.
Kitsugi is the Japanese tradition of mending broken pottery with gold, accentuating the cracks and scars.
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