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 1312° 
Clay Micallef
When a black sheet has been
thrown over the moon
and a million lazy stars
have fallen from view
I hear the wind has
grown tired of traveling
I hear the sound of mandolins
crying in the mountains
I hear the rattle of
gypsy wheels
I hear the heavy hearts
of horses upon the
restless roads of
broken poetry ...
Clay.M
 868° 
Nat Lipstadt
Dearest Patty m.,

we admire, admit to raw nailed jealousy
when we read the works superior
with the greatest worn scruffy complementary compliment
a poet
can give to
another scribe

How I wish I had written that,
those very words!


confessing before the world
with our own humility
at the daily dawning of
realization that
morning brings freshness and
insights needy for release and
aborning and the trace of humiliation
that we’ve all  ready
been breached bested
by others,
once again…

BUT
we do not bow!
no courtly arm sweeping,
back bent, at best
a nod of a head
then

privately
we gasp, rent our clothes,
throw the body flat to the floor,

observing seven days of mourning
reserved
for when we morning moan,
daylight groan and loan out our
croissant moon mooing cries to
bemused muses
in the clouds supervising,
as tears of, an admixture of,
an elixir of joy, compassion
and thus refreshed by someone’s
new infant’d christening
we *****. we resurrect, gamble,
throwing ourselves complete like dice,
in to a roll of
stunned stupor of high inspiration
and then make out best work
ever yet

but never do we bow, scrape,
bend the knee, maybe the head,
we mourn our lesser failings
and smile as we flash words
from our eyes,
stored in our mindsets,
our, my best, will
always be yielded up
next
——
addendum
———
seven years ago
in a separate guise,
he ssid it differently
maybe better?
:<•>

epilogue

read my face
incapable of,
deprivation
but how now silent
bow my head to Will
for teaching the way of words
traced upon
a fool or a king's tongue,
two too human,
so that poet may ken
his senses keener,
all for the better,
for the betterment of all
 755° 
Nat Lipstadt
~ for Rob Rutledge -
@ 6:15am
~~~~~
we all are living, reading and writing,
paycheck to paycheck
even if by happenstance, our bellies full,

for the white sheets we lay our words
down and upon, our supporters of
ids and egos of egg shell thin lifes
are the bare emptied shelves
of our unending, still ongoing
pandemic pandemonium,
razing times
of eroding joys

the sheets are blank, but our souls
wearied, helmed and whelmed
by the unending of the unexpected
that demands, orders and commands,
no matter what
pour it out blasting
unleashing the rage
compelled, compiled,
completely compulsing
we
selves ordered to compose

giving form and firmament
to our vaporous innards,
releasing new oxygen from
the tides inside and without,
clashing ideas, irregular notions
that demand we poets responsible
for reconciliation and auditing for
human truths

we awake barren but weighty,
the emotions are rustling in the
now daily, common,
mighty metors of gusts of higher winds,
spreading fire and measles to spite,
not despite
our fragile failings & flailings

oh goodness and grace,
let that be the colors of
our skin, our face,
essay on, sashay with a
swinging motion,
yes, rhyme and rhythm

and deliver us with words
so soft, they shatter the
gloomy desperation of
what confronts our entirety,
when the terrors of our
sleeping dreams cannot be
differentiated from the
sad eyed waking
ones

so write, and right,
these troubled times,
when trolls, dragons
and yet unnamed monsters
seek to take away our
tiny green planet, watered,
seeded and plentiful fruited
plains enough to satisfy us all

if we are so emboldened to choose
all of us over our lonely selfish selfs
6:15am
Tuesday
close by
the Ides of March
(1)some words recently received and rescreted
 629° 
jim moore
You saw it coming,
you knew it
I had my chance,
I blew it
You held my hand
We walked to the edge

I couldn’t jump
A missed opportunity that I wish I had the chance to do over.
 593° 
Craig Strong
Dude, do you realize that you used the word dude
like three times in the same sentence, dude.

who does that?
 580° 
brooke
I only just realized
what joy can be—
It is a small thing,
I think,

In the back office
at the bank,
If you leave the chair canted
towards the south window,
the sun will warm the small
blue seat around 11:45

It has always been
such an inconsequential thing to me
always out of reach—

But it’s there,
A quarter before noon
every day.
 358° 
South by Southwest
True religion
begins in the heart

The heart is the ruling power of manhood

You can enlighten the
understanding of man

But if his heart is wrong
the understanding only enables him to sin with a greater disregard for the responsibility resting upon him .
 335° 
Imarie
No longer fooled by sweet disguise,
She shields her soul from judging eyes.
For trust, once given, now denied,
Leaves only emptiness inside.
 254° 
jan oskar hansen
Peace in our time
What can we say our hope for peace in Ukraine was declared, we are no longer sure if this is possible, the right words were spoken until someone mentioned the value of rich soil that had costly minerals within, and the talk of suffering humanity talk a pause, greed had entered the frame
Sure, we need troops to guard our ill-gotten treasures, friendly troops do you mind if there is a thing like friendly weaponized troops guarding
Earth treasure
While our leaders try to change the narrative to
tell us it is not about right or wrong but it is about saving the world for our benefit
 233° 
Grey
The war between,her,me and she

Funny a tale I tell you

"Her" was me a minute ago

So malleable, gullible
Easy to stir

But "her" was happy
Holding unto a dark mural

"Me" is I now

Lessons from "her"shaped me

To let go of steam
From others action

That some ain't -
Worth fighting for

"She" is my future
The all control
I want to be

Some war ain't-
worth fighting for

I'm letting go of "her",
"Me" in progress
So that "she" can live
 226° 
Raven Star
I exist.

But i need to do things
I don't really like,
And i dream
Of a different life.

So, am i truly alive?
Meaning of life?
 225° 
Whit Howland
A rubber mallet to the knee
to watch it jump

reflexes

I'm only testing the reflexes
he says

but maybe maybe
he likes to bonk humanity

just to watch it dance
An absurdist word painting.
 210° 
Iska
Unrelatedly,
I’ve lost my appetite.
•not a cry for help. Just a thought that flit through my mind some months ago•
 208° 
Nishan Niraula
Dancing in the attic,
I hide from the Passerby,
Confronting their eyes—
Traumatic.
Listen to the words I try to imply.

These beings mean no harm,
To me, they seem strange.
As they embezzle in my charm,
All I see them as, deranged.
This person sees people from above,
The attic is his habitat
 199° 
Thomas Castle
your vase is not too much for the teacup in their hand.
 193° 
Lyle
just another quick write
before I sign off for the night
today I laughed
I loved
I learned
So I feel like that made it a great day
dontcha think?
 191° 
souletry
And that's okay but,
i'll never admit this to you so I'll say it here,
where I know you won't see it.
I miss you.
Why do I deny myself the chance to go after
the love I deserve?
 173° 
Chris Topah
I close my eyes to take the sun away // blue moon
Bat an eye to all the things these days // so true
Little rover, gettin older
A circle is just, the circles a must

Ten high just never felt the same // I puke
I felt another giveaway // just shoot
Gearing english, sporting spin
A circle is just, the circles a must

Cut me slack, I took the hard way // it's fine
Make peace and let it melt away // rewind
From me, dear you
A circle is just, the circles a must

Toss a coin to another man // bless you
And in return ill take another chance // on you
Monkey see, monkey do
I guess my fortunes told me to bid you adieu

..

If all i need is just a better view
If I can then you can too
Believe in things for me and not for you
a case of the toucan blues
 165° 
Bree17
The warmth of summer's first kiss?
Bliss,

is the absence of winter’s cold fist.
Resist,

undermining your power,
flower.

Rejoice in spring's free breeze.
Freeze,

and enjoy this moment’s endeavor,
forever.
Echo Verse
 143° 
Carlo C Gomez
~
First God
Then Everest
To the ends of elation

Her eyes in sunflare
An imprint from her light
Heavy and pulling me
The ever after of the hereafter

In that moment I was hesitant

~
 130° 
Ivan
could you please look in your purse?
you see, I gave you all my love
and left none for me

I'm sure I gave you plenty
and I so desperately need some now
please, could you return
a bit of that love I filled you with?

because I still have none for me
as you throw it all away to an abyss
could you please look in your purse?
I'm sure my love is spilling from it!
this was my first poem
 120° 
Chris Sanders
A million little snowflakes
In this realm of mine
They say a pictures worth a thousand words
But this ones not worth the time
Just an empty little snow globe
And a decrepit mind

Wilting and feeling Bloo
But we talk and imagine
Sunny lands
Eduardo as a dragon
Sipping on CoCo
Fostering feelings of warmth

Waiting forever for
An end to this swirling storm
But they keep reaching out
Twirling it up more
So we walk the endless boundary
Looking for a crack
As we tap and hum our desperate tune
And let it fade to black
. . . _ _ _ . . .
 111° 
Krzis-Lorent
Permets moi de rêver sur ce chemin himalayen
je ferme les yeux dans mes songes incertains
tu égrène les notes au gré du vent célestin
tu suit le chemin du soleil  diamantin
mélodie du bonheur souhaité attendu  après-demain
je vois les visages parfois souriants, souvent féminins
souvenirs diffus, clandestins.
dans les nuages de ma mémoire aux accents florentins
je navigue au cours du temps, impatient
donne moi le courage manquant,  se voulant olympien
efforts se voulant baudelairiens.
Que ce soit chansons ou poèmes  baladins
accepte cet hommage à ma langue de France..
the sun untethered
halfmoon hangs the morning sky
the blue light of snow
 103° 
Richly Ivory-Coate
Nice of you,
Nice to see term too,
In what a coverage
 98° 
Lalit Kumar
Am I also a traveler on this road?
Am I too, a witness to sins untold?
Or am I merely a reflection of a past desire,
A chapter in fate’s endless fire?

Do my deeds weave my destiny?
Or am I just dust, blown by history?
If I can change, then where do I start?
Which door must I knock, which truth must I chart?
 92° 
Immortality
Hidden garden,
owns its beauty,
flowers blossom,
our feelings intertwine.

Evening sun
kisses your glow,
deep eyes shine,
your soft smile flow.

Your hand in mine,
I wish forever.
sweet love note hidden in a garden....
 92° 
PuellaGratiae
When I was fourteen I found a dog.
Once, she brightened my day.
A long time ago she played at my feet,
But now she's gone away.
With her floppy ears and her fluffy tail
That would wag as she gave me a kiss,
With all of the love she gave freely to me,
She will be sorely missed.
Dedicated to my friend, and her dog, Millie.
 88° 
aviisevil


For I want to be
kissed by the sun

not the candlelight

There isn’t room
at this table
for the both of us

I want to sleep
deep in the forest

close my eyes
and not be alone

A bed for two
only lasts the night

I want to take my heart
hold it in my arms

and not give it back
this time

To laugh and sing
and dance

to let them know
it’s just a silly little life

but it’s mine


 84° 
Zywa
Mountains around me,

silence, the space, and the wind --


that I can be here.
Novel "Tutto il cielo che serve" ("All the sky you need", 2022, Franco Faggiani)

Collection "Thinkles Lusionless"
 77° 
IdleHvnds
There are shadows that follow me,
haunting and taunting me.

There are shadows that follow me,
ravenous, salivating, ready to consume me.

They speak ever so sweetly, all the while threading each word with malignancy.

There are shadows that follow me,
I straighten my spine, while I feel them caress me.

There are shadows that follow me,
Paralyzed, while they devour me.

There were shadows that followed me.
Yes, I know that title is from the vampire tv show. Yes, I'm trying to lighten the poem by adding it.
I'm worn by sorrow, they're graced by joy,
These are the scars of tears, or the pangs of love.
Tears....
 72° 
JA Perkins
You can tell me
it'll never rain,  
but it won't keep
the rain from pouring..
or doubt the wings
while a mocking bird
sings, but it won't keep
the bird from soaring..

You can doubt the
sun on a cloudy day
And, from the sea,
maybe doubt the dunes
Or tell me there's
no God in heaven
Who heals my
internal wounds.

You can doubt the fate
of an injured deer
right up till you
see him prancing
And you can tell me
that I'll never walk
but you'll never keep
my feet from dancing
God is Good
 71° 
Arthur Vaso
Empty
except for a small seed
a possession so precious
never to be released
hugging, embracing
all day,  soon all the nights

A treasure of words
never will I let go
a piece of paper that caresses my heart
thoughts, steal my breath
If only I could trade tears for
a rose garden
until.....
these words are chains around my heart
in a golden palace
where I dream in black and white
 71° 
inutilpaacas
as the bullet pierces through
the love for you spills out too
thoughts unsaid
prays unheard
what drips from my writ once was love.
 67° 
Haven Locke
He handed me a vile of pills
I took the capsule with a glass of water
I could feel the lump go down my throat
I feel the same, nothing changed
The more pills I swallowed, the more
I tried to convince myself that this time,
this time it would be different.
But it wasn't
why isn’t it working
What was I doing wrong
I took another and another
Until the vile was empty
All the pills were gone
The world around me felt distant,
the edges softening. My vision blurred.
My pulse slowed.
I was dying
I had got what I wanted
I was free from this world
I could be at peace
I had got all I wanted.
 65° 
Marc Morais
When the sky turns to water,
hard and gray,
and the wind moves slow,
as if sadness has made it heavy,
I sit in a room
where the walls sigh.
The air is thick
with things unsaid,
but I wear my pain like a coat,
and it scares me
that it fits so well.

Then the walls start to close,
shadows stretching long,
a deep blue swallowing the floor.
I hear footsteps, but no open doors,
I reach, but the walls
offer nothing back.
This is the room of depression,
where time has no use for my name—
where the lonely screams
of the blood in my veins
fade before they find me.

A door creaks open,
but no one steps through—
grief enters like a storm—
rattling the windows,
dragging the scars of every goodbye
I never got to say.
I hear the scrape of empty chairs,
the ghosts of things
that should have remained.
Here, the air is salted
with old remorse,
and nothing I touch is real.

But somewhere,
far past these sunken feelings,
past the wind’s torment,
a brightly painted door waits.
I push it open—
let the sun stretch across my skin,
let the air smell like something fresh.
And though the past still haunts me
like dust in the corners,
I step out—
a little less broken,
a little more here,
a little more now,
in a house with four rooms.
The represents a journey from one emotional state to another—sadness, depression, grief and healing.
Sometimes, you write a poem and only realize after it is done that you needed to—this is one of them.  Enjoy!
 65° 
Sofia
you are chasing the escape just like me
 59° 
Yonah Jeong
There is time
when a book of poetry
comes to me

It is the best time
to write
poems for others.
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