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S May 2015
The Hawks,
They fly.
The two full of light and future,
Forced between a battle of technology and nature.
Does it make nature powerful;
In the fact that it took the last word?
Or is it now cruel,
for taking the lives of two of its own?

Hawks circle the site,
Mourning the loss of those who were ready to fly in the world.
These Hawks were captains and leaders,
Unlike all else.
So as the rest of the clan can fly out into the world,
Those two prematurely taken,
can be lifted to a better place.
At least that is all we could hope.
Because nature could not be so cruel as to **** it's learning Hawks.
No, not in their early stages of flight.

The Hawks....
      
                           They must fly.
A recent car crash shook my entire city and two students were prematurely killed. It's devastating when tragedy hits the best of people - also reverberating to the surroundings. My prayers go out to all family and friends...
S Apr 2015
AD
Her face was eye catching,
A round face smiling at him.
Her lips curved beautifully,
Like arched bows aimed to release,
But he couldn't  help but wonder where he'd seen her before.

For he knew that smile,
He did,
He knew he'd seen her before,
Somewhere,
Somehow.

It was Elena

The love of his life,
His soulmate.
His Pretty Woman, Sabrina and Allie.
A woman who surpassed both Athena and Scheherazade in wit and beauty.

He flashed a smile.



Her face was eye catching,
A round face smiling at him.
Her lips curved beautifully,
Like arched bows aimed to release,
But he couldn't help but wonder where he'd seen her before.


He just couldn't remember.
I'm working with Alzheimer's disease and it's heartbreaking to see people in love not connect. It's frustrating for both sides of people and it's absolutely heartwrenching.
S Mar 2015
Is it just me?
Or do you feel it to?
That pain in the stomach,
That worsens through and through.

Is it just me?
Or is the world becoming black,
People being disregarded,
As others take up slack.

Is it just me?
Or is the earth now shaking,
From a force that is evil,
That only humans are making.

Is it just me?
Or is the world truly blue,
Not a figment of imagination,
But rather a color and a hue.

Is it just me?
Or is a breath becoming harder,
Taking in more air,
But going no farther.

Is it just me?
Or is a happy world now sad,
A world once filled with hope,
With good now turned bad.

Is it just me?
Or is the world truly changed,
It's not what it was,
And it is no longer famed.

If it's just me,
Then I guess good for you all,
Meaning that the world is more positive than I see,
Characteristics and all.

But if you see it too,
As I think you would,
Remember in this time to do all that you can,
And all that you should.

Perhaps with cooperation in mind,
We may be able to change,
This world that is no longer normal,
But is now the epitome of strange.
The world has many issues and societal problems and norms, such as conformity or stereotypes, sadly define much of our lives. There really isn't much freedom in a world like this and that, I would think, is rather strange. I know this was longer than usual but thanks for reading!
  Mar 2015 S
Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
  Mar 2015 S
Phil Lindsey
Oh to be trending with
Praise never ending
For poems I’ve shared on this site.

Likes and reposts give me
Reason to boast -
Justify staying up through the night.

Notifications are
Cause for elation;
The judges DO like what I write!

But a poem too plain
Causes heartache and pain, and
Is often my poor poet’s plight.

No comments, no hearts,
Silence tears me apart
As the view numbers start to get high.

Doesn’t anyone care?
Is it cause for despair?
Don’t they know how hard that I try?

And who really can blame us?
Our desire to be famous
Is a standard set forth at our birth.

Though it’s narcissistic,
We allow some statistics
To define the extent of our worth.

When I group words together
My soul is the tether;
I am sharing a part of myself.

The peril I fear
Is that no one will hear
As the words gather dust on a shelf.

So when the words are ‘bout right
I choose to quit for the night,
Add some tags, then I hit save and send,

‘Cuz when all’s said and done
We’re just writing for fun,  
Who cares if the **** thing will trend!
PwL   March, 2015
Thank you to all who read what I post!!!!   ;-)
S Mar 2015
There is a darkness in the depths of the heart,
A darkness so consuming and overwhelming,
Able to govern the entire human existence: mind, body and soul.

It is ever evolving to deceive its victims,
To pull them by their toes into utmost  insanity,
Utter unhappiness and painful disposition.
This darkness pervades all,
Eludes all and in doing so,
Corrupts the ever-pure tabula rasa of the innocent.

The innocent turn dark.

But in their darkness,
For every smile and laugh,
There must be good,
There must be happiness,
There must be light.

It is this light that shines through a heart of darkness,
That is able to pervade through the charred sanctities of life,
That can create the slightest keyhole in a resoundingly locked door,
That gives the will to continue,
To search,
And to live.

In every person's heart there is a candle.
A source of light,
A source of happiness
And of serene peace.

Yet,
*It is only able to serve those who light it.
Experimenting with the views of enlightenment philosophers on the good and evil in all of us. Are we inherently good, bad, corrupted or ignorant?
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