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It's in his shadow we plead
Under his wrath we bleed
His destruction leaks hate into the weak
Leaving the unsubstantial reaping his critique
His actions scorned through years of neglect
It's in his perception only, that we become wrecked
Why do we follow knowing wrong from right
Pushing those we love away from the light
His power is without doubt equal to the greats
Although derived from stray minded it opens the gates
The gates into the souls of those who are tattered
Turning old memories to ones now shattered
Although through it all, we have nothing to fear
For he is nothing more than a broken mirror
It just takes practice to realize his weakness
All his power is nothing to the strong but bleakness
It's in his own prison he will rot
Although it's up to us to become the Juggernaut

-Joseph B Schneider
© Joseph B Schneider. All rights reserved
One more step closer
                     is heartache
One step back would
                           be regret
I'll just stand here,
                    confused

I don't know what else to do...

        I can no longer
           breathe...
        I can no longer
                     move...

Just take a step towards
                      me
Then I'll gladly step towards
                *you
My dear, hear me out
They may shake you to the ground
But you own arms of a sword.

Strength to just dive in
Enough to rise above all
For every dent you soar high.
The Sedoka is an unrhymed poem made up of two three-line katauta with the following syllable counts: 5/7/7, 5/7/7. A Sedoka, pair of katauta as a single poem, may address the same subject from differing perspectives.

A katauta is an unrhymed three-line poem the following syllable counts: 5/7/7.
An empty room,
filled with two empty souls.

Two empty souls,
assuring the other with empty words.

Empty words,
giving a feeling of ****** comfort.

****** comfort,
conjuring feelings of self disgust.

Self disgust,
speculating their insignificance.

Insignificance,
leading to the abrupt realization.

Abrupt realization,
Suicide.
I feel like, this is how I lived my life in the past. I'm a different person now I have found someone who loves me with a whole heart and I love her just the same. But I feel the need to reach out to you out there, know that I know what you are going through and I have a mind to help you, contact me. I will be your friend I want to help.
 Nov 2014 Brandon Corrie
PrttyBrd
There are choices to make and*  choices  that make  **you
92713
sometimes
you write a poem
and you think
****, that's good
this is not one of them
/
When you are growing as a poet
your pain is pining to born a poetry
where there are too many clouds of emotions gathering,
also a pensive mood longing
then the thunder of thoughts growing,
your paper is awaiting for the first word
as I was waiting for you, my love
when you were coming slowly
then words of rain raining,
automatically,
randomly

When the first raindrop pings on the pond
even you don't know when it will be stopped
how far it will be covered
which path it will be taken
even its density,
dignity,
or the diversity

Your first word inks on the paper
you don’t know when it will be finished
which way the words will be taken
even you don't know
its size or style,
its fashion or the scheme

Either it's a long or a short
or even a sonnet or a verse
even its rhyming
or the rhythm

You should not think about its length
of course words grow as long as
the metaphors can travel
through its thoughts of cohesion
and its feelings moving
naturally,
poetically

You should not count the words
or even you can't stop within a limit
it makes your thoughts imperfect
rather you can tell totally
about the life,
or can tell about
the love easily
or beyond the life spontaneously

The words can grow 3,5,7
lines for a haiku
or even it goes for a mile for an epitaph
or more for an epic  

Poetry executes through words
words come from thoughts
thoughts come from the emotions
and ends with the wisdom
/
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Tribute to Robert Frost, my beloved poet
Based on the theme and thoughts of Robert Frost.
'Tick-tock', says the clock
You're too late

But he knew to himself
that he could never be early
and could have never been

But he only knew this
when the clock had chimed

It's time to go
she said

though it sounded more like

It's time to say

                                                  
                                                    Goodbye­  



he didn't hear
for she
had deafened him
with the sound of
her voice

he gave her a broken smile
and a stare that would last forever

will this be the last?
he asked
knowing this was the first

he knew she loved him too
in his dreams
at least
High-Low
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