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 Dec 2018
Edmund black
She
refuses
To reside
Inside
anyone’s
Solace
Especially
her own
She’s a
rare rose
With
the thorns
Still attached
She walks
a fine line
Somewhere
Along the line
Between pain
And fine wine
She always
found the time
And
Courage
To shine
You, yes You.... you have the strength of ten men , although not always easy ..... You keep standing for the win... You’re indeed a rare rose,  at times..... unaware!
 Nov 2018
Paul Hansford
Say not it was by the ocean,
in the country or the town.
Say not if the sun was shining
or the rain was beating down.

Say not it was morning or evening,
or the high noonday or night.
Say not it was summer or winter,
or springtime, or autumn bright.

Say not what she was wearing.
Say not what colour her hair.
Say not how magical her smile.
Say only: She was there.
This is one of many that I lost when Poetfreak collapsed under the weight of malicious spammers. I'm glad to say that a proportion of those have been recovered by the new owners of the site, and I hope that other writers here who suffered similarly may be able to renew their collections.
 Nov 2018
Iz
My writing does not hit
As hard as it once did
The bullets I shoot from my mouth
They are not nearly as precise
Is it possible
I’m losing my
Ability to
Write
Love, Sorrow, Joy, Pain, Beauty, Loss, Peace, Hatred, Hope…
All a part of life’s grand design, and if you have felt them,
then you have lived life.

When there is one, there is always the other,
always a balance so to speak.

But what if, what if there was more,
love, joy, beauty, peace, hope…

I dream of that, although it is just a dream.
I still dream of it!
Deep in thoughts...
 Nov 2018
South-by-Southwest
I sailed away from the
Bay of Dismay
Of my recent past

I left the land
of the midnight's voice
I buried the remains

Now I long to return
To dig up all
That could remain

But I would imagine
Not even worms
Would be in the remains

It's been
Way too long
To learn how to sing

Since cancer cut me down
I only hope I will fly
With my broken wings

No I will not return
For the truth died there
As the bell of life so tolls
 Nov 2018
Star BG
I pray for the day.
adults think about what they eat
to fuel their sacred form.

When children ask for salad
instead of fried chicken fingers
and fries drenched in oil that clog intestines.

I pray for the day,
young and old choose to go organic
and stop frequenting fast fake food joints

When people awaken to foods causing Alzheimer's.
and stop adding to cholesterol count
by changing their diet.

I pray for day soda is no longer offered
as in truth its a great metal cleaning fluid.

When family members
put away cell phones and lab tops
to become a family again.

Yes I pray for the day,
of a decent tip
so... I say nothing and serve,
praying for the day.
I am not a waitress but I work part time in restaurants serving balloon animals to kids of all ages. I'm a professional clown. This prayer stems from what I see when I go to tables.
 Nov 2018
Eefs Jungmann
Sacrifice is never easy.

                 Some struggle with it,

But for others,

                     It's as simple as 123.
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy and any feedback appreciated for any of my poems, I'm new to this so I'm gonna stop before I start waffling..
 Nov 2018
Word Hobo
fallen warrior's    dying gaze  .  .  .
blurry sun    she braids gold rays
gilded strands     grace Avrey’s hair
misty     tear-pooled stare  .  .  .





Dodoitsu. 7-7-7-5 (26) syllables
gv  .2015

Pfc. B.V. ,  a 22 year old mother of a little girl named Avrey
was Killed in 2010,  by an IED, RPG attack near Kunar province,
(145 military women killed as of April.1.2013 in Afghanistan, Iraq & Kuwait
Pfc. B.V. ,  a 22 year old mother of a little girl named Avrey
was Killed in 2010,  by an IED, RPG attack near Kunar province,
(145 military women killed as of April.1.2013 in Afghanistan, Iraq & Kuwait
 Nov 2018
Alyssa Baugh
Looking for a way out of
this    
hell
There is an exit and I'm running towards is
full    
Speed
I will taste
Freedom
 Oct 2018
Melancholic
Last night I dreamed that you were mine
And I was happy at that moment
I was at peace

But then I woke up
And I realized that you will never be mine
And then I started to cry
 Oct 2018
Pagan Paul
.
Darkness

          Starless

                    Voiceless

  ­   It yawns

      and swallows

                  the words ...



© Pagan Paul (20/06/18)
.
I prefer to call it Poets Pause as it implies a
period of reflection rather than a period of
complete inactivity. A bit more positive than
writers block.
I'm not suffering it right now though,
its just a poem about it :)
PPx
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