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 Mar 20
Stu Harley
Ink bleeds whispers, secrets kept,
A story on paper, unslept.
Words like windows, veiled, and thin,
Reflecting a soul held within.

Eyes, unseen, guide every line,
A silent observer, entwined.
Their gaze shapes the moonlit tide,
Emotions in verses confide.

They watch as the reader takes hold,
A story unfolds, to be told.
Springs from the fresh eyes behind the poem
 Mar 14
Stu Harley
dear God almighty
you are
the
willow in the wind
who
dwells
in
the
soul
of
a tiny grain of sand
still
He has the whole world
in the palm of His hands
 Mar 10
WendyStarry Eyes
The older I get
The more I realize
This world is not my home
One day I will
What we call, die
I have learned
Come to terms
Prayers will lead me
To A New world of Truth
What we choose
To name death
I have faith will be
My first breath
Into God's peace filled eternity
Home awaits me
Love you Mama
 Feb 18
Jeremy Betts
Death is silent
It has no tongue
It has no voice
For it does not need to speak
Death does not ignore the pleas
It has no ears to hear them
It has no soul to feel them
It is the only inevitable
The only guarantee
It sends no warning
Most likely never see it coming
There is only false hope
A lie we all try to convince ourselves of
But feared or not
Welcomed or not
It comes all the same
Family name, from where you came
It cares not
For no other reason than it needs not care
Arriving to take away what defines the living
It can not be tricked
It can not be bardered with
No heart strings to pull
It hasn't a brain in its skull
It can not decide one way or another
For it is not given an order
It just is
But the same can be said about life
As you can not have one without the other

2024
 Feb 18
ymmiJ
DARK
this last breath
like so many before
forgotten
LIGHT
such sweet breath
the next ever sweeter
enriching
 Jan 6
Antino Art
In dark times,
I'll follow the stars
from here to there,
arriving at my center
to trace my constellation.
If tonight is all I have,
I'll keep moving,
one with my shadow,
not knowing where this leads.
I'll cover new ground
when no one is watching
as stars align
to reveal a path through
the darkness toward
the bright spots ahead.
I'll take in the view,
under the stars
returning
the way I came.
Mass shootings of morality
Guns make the man
Massacre happily
Ignorance leading the blind
Another casualty
Johnny has issues
He’s got an AR15
Arm everyone!
(EUREKA!!!)
Because more guns are just what we need!!!!!
Who gives a **** about Johnny and his mental instability
He’s got a gun!
It’s semi-automatic
That’s all he’ll ever need
Semi-automatic
Everyone will bleed
A few hundred rounds
He kills responsibly
A few hundred rounds
Watch as the children bleed
Just another day in America
How many more guns do we need?
This poem is and attempt at channeling my anger towards guns and the guns rights lobbyists after recent mass shootings, specifically after Uvalde, Texas.
 Jan 5
Rob Rutledge
We woke one morn
To the song of storms
And the iron grip of fever.
Torn between the call of war
Fleeting dreams of Patagonia.
The afterglow of horror shows
Shadows left upon the mountain.
Nightmares rise from water falls
Sanguine spectres in the fountain.
Preachers drink long, far, and deep
While prophets speak of profits reaped
And treasures yet to be found.
Among andean condor calls
Those who seek live weak to greed
Forever bound enthralled.
A blackbird’s flight through endless night
I gaze through window panes of light
  At places I have never seen
  Beyond my primal tidal dream

  To sail the ship of light untouched
   To feel it’s beauty in the rough
    An uncut diamond unretouched
    That out survives forever
                    
    I walk my trail beside the dawn
     To know the joy of what is gone
     With the feeling that before to long
      I’ll find the place I know in song

      A blackbirds flight through endless night
      I gaze through window panes of light
     At places I have never seen
     Beyond my primal tidal dream

      To sail the ship of light untouched
       To feel it’s beauty in the rough
       An uncut diamond unretouched
       That out survives forever
I'm having a difficult time coming up with new material so I'm re-submitting this.  It's an oldie.
 Oct 2023
Julian
Hello, my friend,

They say life's what you make it
But I swear, sometimes it feels like
Life's nothing more than a canvas
Painted by every heartache and heartbreak.

You've got these hands that shake like earthquakes,
And a heart that's been through wars
More times than you care to count.

And you don't know if you're a mess or a masterpiece,
'Cause every stroke on this canvas
Feels like it's come from someplace else.

You've got treasures buried deep inside you,
But sometimes they may feel like gilded garbage,
And you can't tell which is which.

You've been to the bottom of the well,
And you've looked the devil in the eye,
And you've come back with nothing but your poetry,
And the rhythm of your aching heart.

Sometimes, my friend, you wonder if you're anything
But depression, and a lifetime of grief,
And you don't know what sets you apart
From the agony that surrounds you.

But even when the strongest souls
Start to lose their fight,
You're still here, reaching for the light.

So if this life is what defines you, then let it be known
That you are a survivor, a warrior, a force to be reckoned with.
You are the sum of every joy and every pain,
And every moment that has brought you here today.

And when the darkness threatens to consume you,
Remember that you are not alone,
For your poetry and your heartbeat
Resonate with so many others who have fought this battle too.

And even though the road ahead may be uncertain,
Take comfort in the fact that you are not your sadness,
You are not your suffering, you are not your mistakes.

You are a masterpiece in progress,
A work of art that is still unfolding,
And your story, your voice, your heart
Are all essential parts of the beauty that is you.

So keep going, my friend,
Keep fighting, keep creating, keep living,
And know that no matter what comes your way,
You are loved, you are valued, and you are enough.
a style i'm working on, a birthday poem for a friend
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