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 Apr 2018
Samuel Louis
My eyes,
Tired

No tears to fall
No tears to bawl  

My eyes,
drooping

I don't need rest...
And my sight is clear...

My eyes are open,
But there is nothing to see.
(o) 2
 Apr 2018
Samuel Louis
A single piece of paper,
    Is not a suitable canvas
    For me to write your design.
Do you have a Post-It?
There are just some  people out there like this.
 Apr 2018
Mary-Eliz
seeds of poetry
seek
fruitful soil

its fruits

hungering hearts
 Apr 2018
Victor Bucarizza
There's a storm outside
I reach for the umbrella,
she hands me a kite
 Apr 2018
Poetic T
The sun still burns through clouded renditions,
                      eyes black with the tainted sorrows
                                                   of a darkened days.

Still burned beyond the visual acuity
       of subconscious glaring. But we still collect pictures
       in the ashes of  clouds. Tombs of  imaginations folly.
 Apr 2018
Dr Peter Lim
In the wilderness most remote and barren
flowers of poetry I'll plant and they will happily open
 Apr 2018
Dr Peter Lim
With regard to nature
the scientist dissects
the poet gazes in wonder
and such beauty it adores and respects
 Apr 2018
Alice Lovey
To not have to ask.
To not have to reach.
To not have to look.
To not have to be
Wanting.
 Apr 2018
saige
wild onions and wet dirt
fresh-cut grass and
did you have to
mow the buttercups?
your marble eyes
roll so easily
 Apr 2018
Rajinder
On a foggy morning

Leaves swoon
as fog hugs the tree
kissing its pores
with open wet lips.

the breeze hisses
in jealousy.

the sun
looks away.

the sparrow
laments
her lost love.
17 Dec 2013
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