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You could be a dot, a comma, a pause in someone’s life
A fill in the blanks to some
A lost memory to few
A word, a sentence or none to many
But a select few would make you their story
Part of their history, their life
Through miseries and smiles
Walking that mile
Through precious times and eventide  

Some may walk along a while
Listen to your heart
All along you will hear many a heartbeats
Tugging at yours
Believing in you and
Wanting your energy, time and space
Be the resource
Rest assured, there is a source besides, walking, tracking, guiding you through

You could be a grammatical error to someone
Good that you got to know
There is always a way to correct the  sentence
But through all the errors
The Blanks and pauses
Be your own stop
Reflect upon your own story
A novel in the making
Never a full stop
Until your last sunset
The final stop
Written on 1st August
 Aug 3
Julia Celine
Unravel me
Loosen up the bow, feel the needle pull
Out words I never did mean
Well, you know me

After the bliss, a liar
Gets tired of this
It feels like the truth’s a fire
They play with for kicks
 Aug 3
Carlo C Gomez
~
Two minutes of perseverance
two minutes of curiosity

Seeking out life
returning with ingenuity

It's all about surfaces and thresholds
and winter hemisphere

Each of us wants so badly
to be that next satellite

Or at least be allowed
to dream we're a small dark spot
moving across the Sun's face

~
 Aug 3
nivek
fish, locally caught
a neighbours gift

still wriggling
just as smeagol likes them
Thriving in the sun she sways inside her garden
each time a fragrant wind arrives from the sea
Her lavendar blooms fill the earth with pardon
she bends at will like a tiny bud young and free

She is a rare and beautiful blue moon in my hand  
pulled from the ground she sets my heart aglow
when I inhale her, ... then I begin to understand
why she is my favorite rose, why I love her so

Giving always giving, she is the perfect flower
loosely scented in my home she is frangrance
convening with my senses with elongated hour  
this little rose of mine, means love & romance
 Aug 2
Yashkrit Ray
So they are still fighting — the humans.
Still drawing borders, building walls, claiming lands as if the sky were theirs to divide.
They are not united. Not yet.
And until they are, we will not go to them.

(In a classroom on a distant alien world)

Student:
Ma’am, why haven’t we contacted Earth yet?
We have the technology. We could speak to them — today, even now. So why don’t we?

Teacher:
That’s a good question. One we ask often.
But before I answer, I want you to think. Really think.
Let’s look at their history — the humans.

Long ago, they hunted.
They killed to survive, to eat, to rule.
They were more violent then — wild and afraid.
But over time, they settled. Built homes. Grew crops.
And slowly... they harmed less. Just a little less.

Civilizations rose. Then empires.
And with them, came war — endless wars over territory, over pride.
Then came their modern age. What did that bring?
Serfdom. Slavery. Racism. Greed.
Some of those poisons still linger in their world even now.

Yes, they advanced — in tools, in science, in machines.
But tell me:
Did their souls keep pace with their inventions?

As they built satellites, they still built prisons.
As they mapped the stars, they still judged by skin.
So, in our terms, they are not yet developed.
Because true development is not measured in machines —
but in mercy.

Once the people of Earth learn to accept one another,
once they choose peace not as a treaty but as a truth,
then they will be ready.
Then we will speak to them.

Until then…
they are too busy surviving their own chaos.
We are beyond that now.
We gave up the things that destroy.
Hatred. War. Ego.

And the irony?
They think we would attack them.

(Far away, among alien officials)

High-ranking official:
Earth has been declared a no-contact zone.
No ships may enter. No probes. No whispers.
The planet is to be left untouched.
Observed, but never interfered with.

They are… an ecosystem.
Nothing more.
Just like the forests they fail to protect —
they, too, must be left to grow or wither on their own.

Let’s see how long it takes.
Let’s see when they finally look up, not in fear…
but in peace.

(Back on Earth…)

A television broadcast crackles:

“The Amazon Rainforest — home to countless species —
has been declared a protected zone.
All activities harming its balance are now banned.
No hunting. No poaching.
Left alone by humans, the forest may finally breathe.
The ecosystem may heal.”

If only they knew —
they, too, are a forest still learning to grow.
It was just raw idea that came to my mind so I just typed it down.
 Aug 2
Jason R Michie

Once upon a time, there lived a cocky young noble,
Who'd committed no crime yet hid many a foible.

Wherever he rode he'd arrive in the dandiest style,
Charmingly he strode and imagined the ladies beguiled.

He traveled the land in search of high adventure,
Codpiece in hand he was besotted nigh treasure.

Never were any dragons slain nor demons defeated,
Only empty flagons remained where our hero retreated.

He found love unsought, as fools tend to do,
Spellbound by the thought that she loved him too.

Their storied romance grew as the long seasons passed,
However, soon they both knew their song would not last.

Trouble stormed their keep, drawn steel in the night,
And she was stabbed deep by her beloved in his fright.

The princess did strive though she eventually succame,
Spirited away for her life whilst he cried out her name.

Days became months and months became years, yet no word arrived,
Whilst our young hero drowned sour tears and feared that she'd died.

Dour doldrums spurred our knight to stand a little braver,
And so with long-suffering sighs, he sauntered forth to save her.

Briars and bogs he did cross and the dark forest he did pass,
Battling the dread of her loss our desperate knight espied her at last.

With beleaguered head ringing, he'd worried she was mistreated,
Yet he found her laughing and singing, did she not feel as he did?

Crestfallen he reached out to his love in his woe and his fear,
Firmly she gave him a shove and looked away with a sneer.

She claimed her contentment, and bade him leave without quarrel,
So with shame and resentment, he was gone come the morrow.

He sorrowfully still sings and mournfully pines, our hero apparent,
He thanks you for sparing us these wee lines, for one lonely knight-errant.
07/20/22

IDK why I didn't post this so I'm posting it now. Hope you enjoyed it!  ;)
 Aug 2
Bekah Halle
Was my stroke a cruel, twisted f#@k up?
...
Or one of divine luck?

Has it not taught me compassion?
Anger? Acceptance, how to ration criticism?
And laugh when I muck up?

Now, I breathe in gratitude,
And my world has opened up
to new experiences, people, and circumstances,
even living in new towns, cities and states.
Mastering REHAB, new knowledge and careers.
Working through old fears, sure, I've got new ones,
But who hasn't?

Connected and trusting this journey.
...
Now, that's the silver lining!
In 2012 I had brain surgery to remove an aneurysm and AVM. A stroke ensued during the procedure. After 10 hours, they put me in a coma to let my brain heal, but I did not wake up until 40 days later. When I did, I could not hear, saw double, and my right peripheral vision was severely damaged. I could not walk, talk or remember anything much like a goldfish. The healing journey continues, poetry has been a means to process this major life event and grow.


It is my “waking anniversary” today - hip hip hooray 🙏
 Aug 2
RED
A girl once twirled in her garden bright,
Her laughter dancing with morning light.
Unaware, across the gate,
A man stood still — a twist of fate.

She froze mid-spin, his shadow near,
A stranger’s gaze, a rising fear.
She fled inside, heart clenched with fright,
Curtains drawn, away from sight.

The morning after, schoolbag tight,
She stepped into the waking light.
And saw the man — calm, still, and kind…
With quiet eyes, yet stone-cold blind.

No threat, no stare, no lurking harm,
Just silence wrapped in human form.
That day she learned what masks can hide,
Not all are wrong, not all are right.

For even truth wears borrowed face,
And safety isn't always grace.
The world, it spins in shades of grey —
Not all who watch can take away.
 Aug 2
Geof Spavins
Do I have a mind to map? 🤯
A wrinkled maze, a twisty trap? 🪤
Or just a spark that zips and zings, ✨🤐💃
Uncharted thoughts with flappy wings?🦇

💥 What if the mind’s a sketch unseen, 🤯
Drawn in dreams or in between 💭
A tangle, giggle, sigh, surprise; 🪢🤭😮‍💨😯
A galaxy behind my eyes?🌌👀

I chase a dot, it loops, it darts, ⚆➿🎯
It scribbles over all my charts. 📊
Each idea - a bounce, a swirl, 🌀
A jellybean inside a whirl.🥡

So here I sit, map in hand, 🗺️
No compass, no strict command. 🧭
Just wondering where the neurons nap... 💤
Do I have a mind to map?🤯
From a WhatsApp comment.
Live long enough
and we end up alone
No matter our fortune
no matter our throne

Life will have sway
as our journey unwinds
One breath at a time
— our voices unrhymed

(Augustinian Seminary: July, 2025)
all are talking of numbers
constantly. three years that, 5 tears this,
no music plays on this computer now.

it plays in rooms, where darkness lingers,
where cloths are folded neatly, ready
to store, to air , mend, abide until required.

each day has a number, each a task.
i have drawn seven chairs, need to
do thirty three more,. this is a project.

thirteen, fourteen, fifteen
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