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 Aug 2015
Elisa Maria Argiro
Dive down into
the Sea of Words,
flip my mermaid tail    
to the passersby.

Dive down deep
to the bottom
of the sea, the
very deepest depths
of this salty sea.

When I come up
to the surface again,
starfish weave shells
into my auburn hair,
while sirens sing
new words to me.

Vast expanse of
emerald waters,
Sea of Words
you are my home.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
 Aug 2015
Edgar
Sometimes I feel like walking through an endless path...
Confused and desperate.
I wish I could go back in time...
And reverse my mistakes.
I wish I could move on...
But there is no way out...
I should just let time take over and heal these wounds...
 Aug 2015
Joe Cole
For many long years I have wandered
Many long years I have roamed
But a voice in my head is now calling
Calling me back to my South Country home

I have walked in your tropical forests
Experienced the hot desert sun
Climbed your mountains snow capped peaks
In your lakes and blue seas I have swum

Now a voice in my head is calling me back
Back to where I was born
Once more to walk in the pine woods
Under the warm summer sun

Many years ago I did leave her
A youth so fearless and bold
Now I hear my South Country calling me back
To the place where I can grow gracefully old

I will never forget the friends that I made
As I wandered your far distant shores
And if ever you visit my South Country
You'll find a welcome sign over my door
Something I wrote a long time ago but always enjoy reading
 Aug 2015
Maria G Vagelakos
I need a moment with my muse....
I need shadows in candlelight...
I need a "You're so ******* beautiful"...
To feel it, for a night.....
I need the pain as he bites me...
The taste of blood within my lips...
Only to be soothed by the gentle way
He slows his every kiss...
I need his searching fingers
And his lip stains on my skin
I need his cross upon my tongue
I need to relish in his sin....
I need a moment with my muse...
I'm dying fast inside
It seems without his smirk
I'm more dead than I'm alive
Just a few slow
Long hours
I swear,
I can't think
To even write.....

Unless it is about him
Then that's all there is
All night
Writing of my longing
Writing of this want
Writing to forget him
Though with writing
Not forgot
I swear
A tiny moment
So I can shut my eyes
Paralyzed upon his heart
Warm against his thighs
I just want to inhale him
A little piece of him
So that I may live a tad bit longer
To write of him again....
Though, I'm tired of writing missings
I rather write of memories
Newer and not old ones
They're fading
Don't you see....
I'm starting to diminish
My luster,
Getting dull
I need a moment with my muse
I need a moment to feel whole

Within his arms
To taste him
I'm a ranting
Lunatic
Moons and mainly midnights
Do drive me to be sick
Without him I am aching
A moment only
Please
Begging
Not an issue
I'm happy on my knees
Praying for his pleasure
Pleasing to be his
Simply
All I really need
Is a moment
That never ends.......

©MV (scribbling)
 Aug 2015
Edgar
It seems like you're a shadow...
I know you're there...
but...
Why won't you let go?
It's already over...
Or was it because I gave it all to you?
Would you just let go and let me fall on my own...
Knowing I'll be okay?...
 Aug 2015
AlanK
They sneak up on you
The same time every year.
But each year they are different;
Different people, different places,
More people, fewer people.
Old friends, new friends,
Lovers, family, random celebrants.
Each birthday is a time capsule
A specific moment sliced from the year,
Seemingly mundane, but oh so telling.
As we age, we pretend to ignore them,
Not wanting to count the years or
Admit to their significance.
But if others forget them,
We are hurt deeply.
As the day approaches
We are forced to assess our life,
The past months, the past years
The days ahead, the shortage of days to come.
A happy day is always the wish from others,
As if saying it will make it happen.
If only life worked that way.
But it is our day, our one special day
No matter our sins or transgressions,
We can bask in the glory just this once,
This day is our reward, for nothing in particular.
Just for being, just for living,
Just for having survived.
But maybe that is worthy of acclaim.
Every day, every week, every month
And surely every year
Is a struggle.
Let’s celebrate perseverance.
Let’s celebrate fortitude.
Let’s celebrate strength of character,
To whatever degree it exists.
Let’s celebrate hurdles,
Overcome or faced with courage.
Let’s celebrate disappointment
Profound disappointment that failed
To defeat us.
Let’s celebrate not giving up
In the face of overwhelming fear.
Let’s celebrate the journey
In all it’s joy and dejection.
And most of all
Let’s celebrate the days to come
And that glimmer of hope
That keeps us plodding along,
Fighting, struggling, sacrificing,
And wincing in pain
Every day of the year
So we live to see another
Birthday.
 Aug 2015
SG Holter
Legs tired from running
On fumes, hands from the

Weight of band aids,
Blisters and splinters.

Busy bird building nests,
Chipped beak, fading feathers.

Angry at trees for asking me
To make

Them into
Houses.
 Aug 2015
Edgar
As you look into me.
I ask myself.
Do you remember me?
Cause I do...
I guess I am caught inside a memory.
A memory that I will never forget.
Our promises and our moments.
I guess it'll never be the same...
 Aug 2015
Kyra Elise
Why did people tell me,
every time that I was sad,
that there were always men for me,
it only made me mad.

Did they really believe that?
Or were they just being nice?
'cos many times I looked around,
but they were cold as ice.

Now every time I look at you,
it truly makes sense why.
It wasn't that they were too cold,
it was that they weren't  my guy.
Sure there's plenty of fish in the sea, they just weren't the ones for me.
 Aug 2015
chimaera
dance and dance away

enhance that beat
a compass of you
a pitch of high

dance dance that way

round the fire
a walking pulse
preparin' the flight

dance a rising sway

drums' echo rumble
****** and rattle
the bracelets

dance and dance away

close the night
enclose the dark
foster that tempo

dance your dancin' way

call on that rhythm
across a note of blue
comp in colour the chords

dance dance

maybe he'll stay
willing to dance

to dance
4.1.2015
...first attempt to work upon my learning from "Jazz appreciation", on edX.org.
 Aug 2015
Maggie Emmett
Lady Macbeth washed her hands
cleaner than Pontius Pilate
with a new improved, bio-enzyme
oxy-bursting, 99.9% germ-scouring
recommended by dermato-logists
scented with rose attar
oils from Arabia
and spermaceti soothing
unguents from long dead whales.

She’s going to the nail bar
for a manicure and application
of semi-permanent, diamond-
tipped, acrylic base-coated
in red blood enamel.

She’ll scratch
and etch rich tattoos
on her husband’s back
with every ******, he will shudder
with pain and delight
He’ll soon forget long, dark nights
bewitched by ghosts and ambition.

© M.L. Emmett
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