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 Dec 2024
Tom D
Here’s to the good
we do have
And be glad of the bad
we don’t
To all the strength
we must have
to do
what others won’t
To embrace our fathers
And love our mothers
To respect ourselves
as well as others
Here’s to what we do have
and not dwell on what we don’t
 Dec 2024
Nishu Mathur
They say that poetry doesn’t sell.

But then is poetry ever on sale?
Is poetry a commodity?
Is happiness on sale?
Is hope on sale? Is love on sale?

A poem could be a chunk of reality. Ramblings of a broken heart. A slice of humour. A beacon of light.

In the darkest of times, I have found poems that in a few words, beam rays of sunshine. That soothe unknown aches and pains. That hold my hand and pull me up. Bit by bit.

I may remain the proverbial ‘poor’ poet with large empty pockets. But poetry enriches me.

It casts a spell.  
So what if poetry doesn’t sell?
 Sep 2024
Kalliope
It was all real
For a moment
And I was sad
When I woke
But happy to have
Spent an hour with you
Even in the shortest naps
I live lifetimes with you
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠,
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠
𝐼𝑛 𝑔𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑓...
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑡ℎ
𝐼 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛;
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑡ℎ
𝑊𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑒;
𝑂ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛
𝐻𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑎...
𝑊ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢?
𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖
𝑊𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑
𝐼𝑛 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠...
𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔?!
𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛
𝑀𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑...
و يديك،
إنها زنبق...
في شجن*
سأتحول إلى اللون الأخضر
في يقين قميصك
وكان يقين قميص الأم أزرق اللون
حديقة زهور الأم،
لديها زهور البتونيا؛
من أنت؟
بأني أرتدي كفناً
في معرفة عينيك؛
لماذا تموت زهوري؟!
عندما تلبس يدي كفناً....
How could this be  This awful reality
Falling into the fire  burning above and
Below me. a terrible reality from which
There was no escape but one.  it was not
To fight  but to sleep in the midst of it all
To sleep or burn  in a reality from which
There was no escape.  I dreamed I was
By the still water that ran so deep in my
Youth.   Could it be? How could it be?  I
Awoke.  Woke to the morning sun and
Knew not believe again all I thought true.
Knew if it  told me my life was  in pain over
Dead and never to return; all taken  from me
To sleep perchance to wake.  An easy choice
My burden was lite,  Only to let my self sleep
And wake born again giving thanks for my life
And All things made new I gave my love to all
Who sleep that they may in  newness wake again

It is not that I did not fight against the  dying of
the light but in my strength  I failed. but in the
end I found the way to understand the Master"
"My burden is lite...'And in that was the answer
"

With Thanks to Eliot and all my readers
tMy burden is lite
 Jun 2024
nivek
I could make out the Sunrise
-the one in your dance
as you rose up in your poems
my sisters, my loves
your songs reverberate
forever in our hearts
Here in this seeming wasteland
where children are born
we contemplate living forever
the forever Sunrise.
 Apr 2024
IrieSide
Remember to breathe...
and flow with the rythm,
that sacred pulsing rythm

the one of life and a heartbeat,
the one of nature, the trees,
and the moon

sway with the core dance,
a gentle movement,
as the trees in gentle
wind
 Apr 2024
Nat Lipstadt
East River: The Many Calories in Water and Words**

this weighty obsession, counting the energy
consumed and disbursed,
to be lean but not mean,
traverses into its third year

a late start does not forgive
over Forty years of transgressions, that damage,
sustained and in part irreversible,
yet I awake this Sunday morn,
all quiet on the East Side front, observing the East River flows
on the surface, contented and uncontested,
strongly bound for faraway Oceans unknown, and it tickles my
imagination that the rain from the nearby Adirondack and Catskills mountains might soon be quenching thy flora, fauna and your parched throats, confirming and conforming our connection and threading our interwoven tapestries, our unified aqueduct, carrying
with more than poetic words, but poetic water!

this notion sustains in multiple manners, and I deep drink the calm and the power as if it were,
for it is,
a daily vitamin,
calorie free,
God  delivers

Delivering
us with
its contained and contentented potency,
to all
in equal dosage

and now the script finished,
the water imbibed,
this baptized, scripture loving
mind and body
as/is
wholly holy
refreshed,
as are we,
my friend

8:38AM
April 14, 2024
by the East River
 Apr 2024
Max Neumann
Prayer of an empty room
In a gap of the forgotten
For the love of ancient dust
Living in my fibers
Under my skin
Where the building ends
Till kingdom come

I came to pray
Cause live is a riddle
From words of greed and guilt
I started solving this riddle
A little boy
Chewing on a pen
Looking through the window
At a grey garden
Colorful birds were singing
In the boy's language

This moment passed
So I'm praying
For forgiveness
I'm asking sincerely

For honesty
For freedom
For love
A Prayer
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