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 Sep 2016
r
Here at the end
of the continent
everyday the same
sea and sky elemental
endless blue planes
interrupted only
by a wayward bird
a flash of white
like a gull
lost out in the null
as September wanes
into Autumn's moon
breaking like a spell
casting my shadow
like a sundial
measuring my footprints
away and alone
on these wind(s)wept
bare lonely dunes.
 Sep 2016
J Robert Fallon III
Through anarchy, you gain fame.

Through monarchy, you claim an executive name.

Through trial, you earn a new automobile.

Through a steal, you gain a first class meal.

Throughout it all, you learn that the battle is not worth the fall.

Throughout it all, you learn how to find your natural call.
One of my better poems I think, as it can be very difficult creating rhymes aligned with the same rhyme throughout; without losing any authenticity or creativity. Hope you enjoy.
 Sep 2016
Julia Mae
you slipped your heart into my pocket and told me to keep it
you told me as long as i have it, you don't need it
i kept it as safe as i could, though i am sorry for the days where i forgot that i had it
you asked for it back one day, as hard as it was to comply
it was already in pieces so i kept one sliver in my pocket, for you and i
so that i could never forget again
 Sep 2016
phil roberts
These days it seems
I remember my early childhood
Better than the contents of my last meal
Dementia creeps.......

Right now,
I'm remembering one early evening
With four of us small boys
Sitting on a wall
Discussing the realities of the world
As we knew it

The moon was pale but visible
And a subject for discussion
As serious as old men playing chess
We wondered how far away it could be
One lad said it was farther than London
But we knew that was obviously wrong
After all
We could see the moon
No-one had seen London

                                       By Phil Roberts
 Sep 2016
phil roberts
The thunder roared and rumbled
Without pause
The lightning was so quick
Like strobe lighting
And the rain fell like a million waterfalls
As the storm raged on and on
Biblical in it's violence

Then slowly
The thunder rolled away
And the lightning ceased to flash
Until even the rain subsided
That's when I came to realise
That the storm still lived
And it lived in me

                                     By Phil Roberts
 Sep 2016
phil roberts
My words and my poems
Are no more than explanations
And embellishments
My means of expression
For my life is my "art"
It's what I am and what I write
It's why I need to write
To make sense of the things
I've seen and done
And there are times when
I think I've done far too much
Then, in deep contemplation
I realise I could have done more
And that kind of inner debate
And discussion with myself
Are a large part of my life
Which becomes my version
Of something like "art"

                                         By Phil Roberts
 Sep 2016
Micahel De Tomasso
" Every time i think of you, it's hard to catch
my breath.
The bitterness that's branded in me, i lost all
kinds of respect.
Seeing you with another man, looking at him
as you once looked at me.
It will forever be a picture in my mind, probably
until eternity.
It all started with a smile, and how much i made you laugh.
Where in the world did i go wrong?
Was it a matter of just going to fast?
It's a shame that you could never answer my questions, you
made a choice to hop into his car.
You saw me running to you, as you both left
that bar.
I prayed that he would stop, knowing then that
i knew the score.
Only to be woken up in the middle of the night
with non-stop knocking at my door.
So here i kneel upon your grave talking to you
in a whisper.
Praying to my Lord, while  here on His earth He
will teach me to become a forgiver."
Just a story, out of my storybook mind.. Remember to "FORGIVE"
 Sep 2016
J Robert Fallon III
The prancing sheep evade my mind and eat upon greener pastures.

I squirm and wince at every thought that repetitively repeats, "just go to sleep", while tracing back the day's steps and weighing the factors.

Why must my mind be so out of sync with the tune of my body?

The wise would advise physical exhaustion is not sufficient ammo to defend against morphing into a groggy zombie.

Insomnia? No...I can have a good night, windows open and naturally closed eyes.

Anxiety? No...my life is too right, for me to not realize this sleep is just something I idiotically idolize.

Change? Yes...I can grow and stow away any thoughts which summon the riot, organize the files and endless waiting miles.

Minutes to hours, hours to frustration,
all until a simple revelation, I've had singular control of the entire situation.

Through meditation, finally free of this voluntary probation.

For no longer do I fear my head touching those precious feathers, and no longer wince at the warm and fleece-ridden wrapping like tethers.

I can now dim the blinding internal light, and tear from the controlling reigns that started this nightly pillow fight.
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