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 Mar 20
Eshwara Prasad
Friendship from afar
Keeps it pure and free from harm
Close, it turns to poison.
 Mar 20
Semihten5
pain is change
same colors are lost in the sky only
do you know
alike some people
 Mar 20
Semihten5
gates were opened still
which wind will come
you ask me
no ready my soul
perhaps time is short
She led me by the hands
saying she would never leave me.

I was happy
for once believing
and loved her more.

The little I had in the purse
was hers
saved nothing willingly
sure as I was
one day
her love would save me.

When I fed enough winds
to her wings
she flew away to a pasture
better and greener.

She led me by the hands
and for once I believed
she wasn't Miss Leading.
 Mar 20
Anais Vionet
Hamlet, sharpen your sword of trust, for Macbeth is surely waiting.

The specter of ‘Civil war’ stalks the land and the ghosts of senseless violence, so long docile, have come to hollow-eyed attention.

Our cauldron was filled with innocence, as the ever-thirsty succubi require, the glory of war is being shaken, not stirred and the betrayal will be served as quick and cold as steel.

#chefskiss
Inspired by Kurt Philip Behm‘s poem “Shiloh.”
 Mar 20
Joe Cole
I had a dream about a crystal stream
Where poets once wrote and young lovers dreamed
About the beautiful years to come

Now the crystal stream is a fetid place
Or sewage and industrial waste
The hedgerows long ripped out and gone
Once green fields now ripped and torn
And the beautiful years have gone

But still the poets sit and dream
And write about what might have been
They sit and write about the crystal stream
About how young lovers held hands and dreamed
About the beautiful years to come
But I no longer sit and dream
Because the beautiful years have gone
This is a re write of something I posted many years ago but now almost daily I read about how a beautiful Southern chalk streams are being poisoned by raw sewage  and chemicals being washed off of farmland. Where have the beautiful years of my childhood gone?
 Mar 20
Ashly Kocher
The past me is a bit haunting
Struggling to believe that I could ever be
Always hitting the wall, afraid to fall, yet always failing for my dreams to come true at all
Pretending that I’m strong enough
Brave enough to not feel the pain
Yet, the past is haunting me a bit
Like a broken,  damaged frame
Unable to hold the still picture in my mind
Freezing up like old times
Black and white
Snowy and pixelated with fear
The past me is a bit haunting
Struggling to ever believe that someone like me would ever be
But, here I am
Stronger than I ever was before
Stomping down all the doors of the past me…
 Mar 20
Nick Moore
Earbud buddy's
Shut the world out

Earbud buddy's
Silent scream and shout

Earbud buddy's
No eye contact for me

Earbud buddy's
Nothings for free

Earbud buddy's
No man is an island
You wait and see
Interaction,  it's not for me.
Slightly judgmental? Just missing the days when people interacted more.
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