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 Nov 2016
Mike Hauser
My daddy forgot my name
Long before he died
Although he always kept
That twinkle in his eye

They call it dementia
But I myself call it hell
For all that we went through
And just how bad it felt

I watched him walk around
As he picked on walls
Trying his very best
At wiping something off

I still wonder to this day
What it is he thought
In his imaginary space
Or if he thought at all

Life brought to him the battle
And to life he brought the fight
But as any good soldier knows
There will come a time

Where in the heat of war
There is no winning side
It takes away the best in life
Whether you live or you die

I wish he was here to tell
How much I'm missing him
But I missed my daddy
Long before he left
 Nov 2016
Pearson Bolt
depression
is an ocean.
at times, it ebbs.
at others it flows.
forever it endures.

depression
is a dead tree.
ripping apart wilted
leaves, adrift
in windswept currents.

depression
is an ant hill.
fit to burst
with activity, but
simultaneously stationary.

depression
is a sword in a stone.
wrest its hilt
to no avail, the blade
remains buried deep.

depression
is a melting glacier.
worn thin by
global warming,
wilting in enervation.

depression
is you and me.
living in the same town
now, but somehow
distant as dimensions.
 Nov 2016
Denel Kessler
The lost congregate
a lodestone of despair
draws them together
all that could be said
to make things better
sleek shallow lies
dry crumbling mortar
howling chaos beckons
beyond walls of order
at the unhinged door
a legion of wolves
refusing to be tamed
snarling and ripping
at what little remains


I cry silent tears
In the stillness of the night
My room is dark,
And the stars lit the sky
That mirrors your face
In every tear-drops of mine

I cry silent murmurs
In the isolation of my self
That no one can listen
My heart has songs to sing
But I am dumbed
I hear birds chirping
The Ocean waves roaring
LOVE transcends my blues
In every word I pen
In your melancholic memory
In every poem I recite
It's only " Y O U "


 Nov 2016
Valsa George
As summer reluctantly gives way
And autumn waits at the doorway
Visible changes come their way
Though they are not for long to stay

Cool is the wind that blows in soft hum
And leaves fall with the bee’s thrum
When they fall curling in hundreds down
In a deluge of colors, the lands drown

Some leaves are seen swirling afloat in the space
And some fall softly across the landscape’s face
Of all the trees, the maple is a sight to relish
Which the eyes can never ever relinquish!

Orange and red, ochre and brown
Like the sparkling gems on a queen’s crown
In a variety of costumes the Earth parades
And everything, seen in a medley of shades

The trees are loaded with fruits ripe
And squirrels dart up to savor the pulp
Autumn is the season for gathering crop
When from the towering pines, acorns drop

As autumn tightens its strangling grip
And the blizzards blow in mightier sweep
The trees are stripped of all their leaves
And many a bird, deprived of its arbor, grieves

With the cruel bite of savage frost
Flowers fade and all their glamour, lost
As the days grow cold by and by
Birds in flocks begin to fly

They take on wings to warmer climes
Before the snowflakes fall in bits and piles
Soon the season falls into hushed silence
And waits for the winter with resilience!

Variety, we know, is life’s flavoring spice
And all seasons have their beauty and grace
But each has its own distress and decrement
And the only way to be happy is to be content
 Nov 2016
phil roberts
The wind shuffles the long grass
And the broad green reeds
Shifting and rattling
By the rippling black water
Chuckling water fowl splash
Swans and cygnets hurry past
And the weather is on the turn
It's time to be heading home

The last of the daylight creatures
And the very first of those of the night
Are sharing this half-way hour
The sky restlessly moves and changes
And bruised clouds rush over head
Like the rubbed eye-lids of a child
A weary teary child
Going home and ready for bed

The slack and glossy water
Laps at the stone beneath bridges
Echoing with the ghosts of barges
And spits of rain flick the air
Studs of cold hitting the face
Turning a collar to the cheek
And urging aching feet
Home-fire yearning me home

                               By Phil Roberts
 Nov 2016
Xyns
Go ahead shout, scream some more
My chest is aching, heart is sore
As I cry, bow out, and sit on the floor
You don't feel, get angry, slam the door
I'd say we're together at the core
But it's clear to me, can't you see
*Love doesn't live here anymore
 Nov 2016
Julie
You'll be okay.
Lay down, tuck yourself in my waves.
Close your eyes, my budding flower, let yourself dream.
Your colours will paint the coral reefs,
Your breathing will rock the fish
back and forth in this blanket,
nestling next to you.
You'll be okay.
 Nov 2016
life's jump
probly a few minutes
and i was done
writing wasn't feeling the same
i stood on top like
bricks around disaster

i was looking up
i took my shoes off
threw them aside still laced  
i wasn't being funny
i know where this is going

where i write  
where i see cracks in perfect paths  
where blood taste like metals of purity
with every year burning
where these flowers like to live
die on vines from inside
allowing ivy to climb my back

i am a length of fence
in a yard with no dog
on a gate without reason
sitting on a post during live events

i am a fool for giving into seasons
romancing everything like a poet
following every inch of broken glass

nodding to my friends that i'm willing to mend
but waiting for them to laugh
outlined with chalk on the sidewalk
where blood stains concrete my convictions
flowing from the curb to the overpass

in the night like candles floating water
under tree branches ready to crack
formatting clouds to sky write, come with me
a man in the park on his back
a note
1/6/2024

this poem took on a life of it's own.
a friend of mine heard a lady in Berkeley
reading this as her own. it was hash tagged, and all over the internet. it gained attention.
even to this day, someone has this up as their own on a long ago since vacant Facebook page.
it's funny where poems end up.
it wasn't my favorite. but the feelings of this day are true. lost and dreaming at Wright Park, Tacoma Washington. ♥
 Nov 2016
Mike Hauser
The sun is out in Jacksonville
Me oh my goodness gracious alive
Now that the Richter scale has calmed down
I'm happy to say, we've all survived

Hoping from the beginning we'd go extra innings
And that our side would win
Between the Suns owner and the fans who are moaners
We are now the Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp

So batter up you people
No need to be steamed it's just life
Though can you imagine the jokes from all of the folks
Might make us so boiling mad we could fry

And then there's the question of Southpaw
What's that mascot still doing here
I'm sure he can fetch but that's about it
Something smells fishy in this sailors beard

But I digress from where we should be
The theme is the name of the team
And I might be in hot water if I go any further
Without explaining what I really mean

Though you may not find
It very a-peel-ing
The way the owner did
In this fishy dealing

It might be to late but it's only a name
Try if you can to chow down on this
The teams still the same so come out to the games
No need for you to be so shellfish
Our minor league baseball team just changed its name from the Jacksonville Suns to the Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp...needless to say, we're not very happy.
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