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 Aug 2017 betterdays
SG Holter
Cancer, old devil.
I've shaken my fists at your
Ugly back as

You've laid your
Hands on my loved
Ones.

Cursed your name;
Kicked at your
Shadow. At last you've

Gathered the
Courage to
Face me. I

Suppose you could only
Ignore me for so   
Long.

Come at me with scythe
Raised, I'll stand,  
Broadsword

Drawn.
No shield; double-
Grip-swinging.

I'm ready.
No nurse ever saw
You greeted

With
A smile like
This.
it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when(being fool to fancy)i have deemed

with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds

the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;

moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

one pierced moment whiter than the rest

—turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.
 Aug 2017 betterdays
bex
So... What if I flew too close to the sun,
cimbing steadily through the open air
and my feathers all fell off, one by one.

Freedom and a reckless moment of fun
mixed with a child's propensity to err...
I know I will fly too close to the sun.

I left the earth with my song, still unsung,
drifted along, alone, without a care
and my feathers all fell off, one by one.

A chimeric mirage, to which I clung
and I pleaded Fates, my wings to repair.
So what, if I flew too close to the sun.

The journey over, quick as it'd begun.
Shining bright was the sun's terrible glare,
and my feathers all fell off, one by one.

The path once chosen, could not be undone
when caught in simple, Fates' auspicious snare.
So... What if I flew too close to the sun,
and my feathers all fell off, one by one?
Rewrite
we never tire of hoping,
you and i.
"if not today, then tomorrow. and if not tomorrow, then the next day,"
we tell ourselves.
we like to play games with hope
and we always let her win.
When my hands were feeling
jealous of the fondling of the grain field,
I was being satisfied by each tree
Thinking of water...
It has free thought
I love my always naked body in it

وقتی دستانم
به نوازش گندم زار
حسادت می کرد
من با هر درختی ارضاء می شدم
...می اندیشم به آب
فکری آزاد دارد
تن همیشه لختم را درآن دوست دارم
this is a very old poem... :-)
 Aug 2017 betterdays
Nat Lipstadt
all poets are human, therefore, all humans are  
poems*

<•>

"In logic, a tautology (from the Greek word ταυτολογία) is a formula that is true in every possible interpretation."

<•>
hardly a tightly taut tautology,
yet true this, in every possible instance

all humans, poems,

as if their portrait painted

from words dipped in a vocabulary palette

which is why,

you my million muses,

are so oft the themes of *who
I write

and when foolish think there is no
inspiration in the air,
your names
each and every,
a title awaiting
finishing
a gift for Jamadhi Verse

Friday, August 25, 2017 6:10 PM,
S. I.
 Aug 2017 betterdays
Ben Jones
Polly
 Aug 2017 betterdays
Ben Jones
Polly arose from the from the gaze of her foes
On a regular digital beam
She rebounded through life in a bubble of smoke
Cos she thought that she lived in a dream

Polly applied to the opposite side
Of a battle which nobody fought
While seated quite still, she retreated at will
For she knew that she couldn't be caught

Polly retired on the wealth she'd acquired
With a tangible air of the throne
There was little to say when she faded away
But they made something up for the stone
Hummingbird perched
atop deer fence high wire
Taking  time  to  feel
the pink cotton candy sky coalesce

Listening to crickets chirping choir
thrum the cadence of summers' closing song
The nights grown longer
as dusk drifts a slower river ebb
to the next impending dawn

The cool lushness of mirror pond's
margin greenery, draws June's bashful fawns;
Twin spotted  frolic in their dappled
shadows innocent splash and play

Evanescent white pokka dots
fleeting to another shade of tawny pale
In the blink of an eye life passes
one  day  at  a  time

The teasing scent of honey crisp red
wafts with summer breeze
Nature's  nascent  love
awaiting   impatiently
to fall free    from Eden's tree ...


*someone you used to know
dusk on the deck swing
 Aug 2017 betterdays
Mohd Arshad
In the death of night
It is the poet who is a candle for mankind......................................... .
From the past, a miracle; I come back here  alive!
The matter recycled, many times over has such verve.
Stardust, lulled by cosmic hum, minerals and metals,
The spirit transcending  timelessly is infused in to it!

Water, your messenger stimulates my whole being.
With dew drops ,fog, ice  and steam my skin is burnished.
I am a flow perennial, ever one with the water's quest
Drenched all over, I  drink rain water, get inebriated.

Wind, inconsistent, wearing a robe of smoke, now and then,
Breathed in to me currents generously  and said"Come alive"
Atop the hills I dance with the wind,the element of freedom,
Fly down like a colorful kite, in my wishful recurring dreams.

I walk the earth, like every man fighting his war to survive
The red earth like mother bleeds love for me, cheers me up,
Son of the soil,am I, ****** earth stimulates my all senses
I smear myself with sticky mud, green,then grows therein.

Your note of love I await, comes streaming in the  light,
Flashing over clouds, green leaves,waves and skylight.
My love undying keeps awake,waiting for a sign of yours.
To join you in the time you decide for me to take your hand.

Just an instrument am I, your love invents, to unite all together,
In your eternal spirit I  too move,a continuing love story for ever.
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