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 Sep 2016
Maggie Emmett
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied.  It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

From The Complete Poems 1927-1979 by Elizabeth Bishop, published by Farrar, Straus & Giroux, Inc. Copyright © 1979, 1983 by Alice Helen Methfessel.
I find this poem so wonderful despite never having mastered its art!
 Sep 2016
Christian Bixler
I have lived on this site for many years now, breathing poetry in, breathing poetry out; infusing the wonderful blend of thoughts and ideas, of profundities, comic absurdities, the peace of serenity, achieved in few words, poignant, vast, with my own, my own thoughts, loves, fears, conceptions of beauty, and my reality of what is ugly, and what is not. You know me only as a poet, an identity obscured by intent, lost, one among millions, in the vast web of energy that connects us, empowers us, gives us the tools to do anything, and at the same time, all too often, takes away the will to do anything at all, to emerge from its deep, narrow pool, and observe the endless ocean that is life, that surrounds us, unheeded, we on our little islands, lost in the trap of our own design. I am a poet, one who wishes only to express, and to feel, to influence others, to help them on their way, and be aided in turn, when the world seems darkest, and the temptation of the trap seems sure, the way of quick release. I am a poet, and that is all I am, and all, deep down, that I ever shall be; and I am content. For to be a poet, one who is at the core of his being connected to an other, whether that other be nature, a person, humanity, or even the depths of ones inner self, and the secrets contained therein; or a hundred thousand more, one is connected. And that, whether tragic or joyous, comic, or serene, is the greatest gift one can hold, and although it may be gained in later life, never will those who have gained it thus experience the depth of feeling as those who were at birth endowed with it, that most heavenly of gifts. I am a poet, as are you. Let us make something wonderful, together, and in time, perhaps, we may heal the world of its sorrows, and bring joy, where before there was despair, and light, where once there was darkness.
My life, my truth.
 Sep 2016
SøułSurvivør
When I consider others
I help me
The combination creates
the WE


Together we sing harmony!
Together we can dance!
Together we can change the world
Given half a chance!

Together we can raise a barn
Together we can dine!
Together we can share life's feast
There is no "your's" or "mine"!
Together we are stronger
Our efforts are combined!

There are no poets alien
There is no "us" or "them"
Together we can write a bit
Change lives with our pen!


I write for sharing poetry
It's not only *ME

I write for other's benefit!
I write to let it be
I write to share God's goodness
For He has set me FREE!

United we will stand
For when division's in our ranks
We all hit the water
By walking off the plank!
Sharks are in those waters!
And seaweed cold and dank...

Let's share the ship together
Let's all PLEASE agree
Our final destination
Is a land that's free
Please consider others
I know it's not just me
We're in a boat of many flags

Called the WORLD OF POETRY!



SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
(C) 9/3/2016
P E A C E (out)

-
 Sep 2016
J Robert Fallon III
Dream fast and don't describe a limit,
as we spin around this world of purity and wicked.

Is poetry the healing avenue you so desperately must cross, to ignite the rocket fuel inside us...and for once...see past the gloss?

Move past the greed of materialistic comfort,
outrun the inexhaustive shadows that can only bring suffers.

Escape your facade of reality which is your own construction,
and turn your pain into your own harmoniously beautiful art production.

Once you see that you are not alone, as the pain is happening globally,
you will finally ingest and release the power of poetry.
 Sep 2016
Austin Bauer
It's been a while since I've
Written to you, my reader,
So today I should go searching
For some inspiration.

Maybe I'll drive to Carol Park
And watch the stay-at-home
Mothers pour out their joys
To one another,
And I'll write you a sonnet
About enjoying your life
Rather than taking it for granted.

Or I could walk through
The local antique shop
Where I would tell you about the
Rusty old straight blades,
Or the dusty bookshelves
Where I search for Irish poetry.

Then I could visit my
Local tobacconist where I would
Relate to you the musty aroma
Of thousands of cigars
That have been worked
Into the carpet.
A place where old men
Like to go to talk about
Their wives and the
Upcoming football season.
Meanwhile, I'd watch as
A newborn adult curses,
Burning his fingers as he
Tries to light his very first cigar.

These are all the places
I could go to gather inspiration.
Instead, I'll just sit here
On this old leather sofa,
In the same coffee shop,
Drinking the same espresso
I drink every Friday morning.

Here I'll keep my same routine,
Writing to you, the only person
Who cares enough to read
About all the things I could do
This morning, but don't need to.
All because you, my reader,
Will be perfectly content
With the product of my imagination.
 Sep 2016
Valsa George
Even a wayside **** can ignite
greater passion in the heart
than a well potted garden plant
at the centre of a tastefully landscaped plot

Even a child’s prank can be more hilarious
than all the cranky jokes of an acclaimed comedian

Even in the warble of a lonesome bird
there can be more flooding melody
than in the well tuned violin of a music maestro

There can be greater poetry in a simple ditty
than in all the lines of verse in a great epic

A tear drop may contain greater salinity
      than all the waters of a great ocean
      
       Perhaps a simple nod of head or a wink of the eye
communicates much more than a whole bunch of words

I don’t know why I love the dainty flowers of May
than perhaps the exotic lotus of the day
Don’t we love the homemade fare served with love
      more than all the delectable cuisines of a posh restaurant
      
      The small things of life thus,
      prove much bigger than big things
      
      Just as the joy of life is not always ruined by fatal errors
      but by the recurrence of injurious little things,
      Greatness is achieved not through momentous actions
      but by the little things done in a great way
Once upon a time
Lived a princess of golden hair
Fancied by creatures of every clime
For she was but so fair

One day whilst in a wood
There came an angel of death
smilingly disguised in a hood
Fervently craving her breath

Being in a deep slumber
She couldn't see this beast
For it thus marked a number
A death spell upon her wrist

Ding ****, castle bells rang
Slumbering she couldn't hear
Despite they were loudly bang
Soon the realm buzzed with fear

With a voice so hard and cold
Need her here! Roared the king
She's but more precious than gold
Said the queen! Thus you must bring

There were blowing of horns
By huntsmen alongside trumpets
Accompanied by crying of hounds
But still she was as deaf as a puppet

She'll never hear! Said one witch
Despite how loud you ring the bell
You must be daft! Insolent *****
Cried the queen! you deserve in hell

She has a death spell thus haunted
whilst simpering yelled another witch
Dummy gorgon! She must be hunted
Cried the king! Thus dare not screech

Soon she was found laying on grass
With not a single bone of her broken
Though she was as pale as a glass*
For her breath had been taken*



©Kikodinho Alexandros
29th August 2016

Honestly, I thank a poet friend so dear to me "Stephanie Stoychevska" to have inspired such a colorful piece!
Tale of a princess who went missing and later found dead by the edge of a Moor despite for she still bore a smile upon her physiognomy as though in a sweet dream!!!
 Sep 2016
SteffyWeffy
Hey, I thought I would write something for all my followers.
I would like to start off by thanking Word Freak.
Word Freak was my first ever follower, he is the one who told me about this site.
Thank you to cgembry, the first person to like my work.
Thank you, Teresa Alaska the first person to comment on my work.
Thank you, Anna-Maria Rose Newell, you have given me a lot of inspiration.
Thank you, Walter W. H., David Hewitt, and Enslaved King you also have given me inspiration.
Thank you, Joellei for always being here when I need someone to talk to!
Thank you, Flames for a martyr, Toxic moon and Vicki.
Thank you, Woody, Stephen, and Keith Wilson.
Thank you, Bleeding Diamonds you make me smile and laugh.
Thank you, Jennifer DeAngelo for writing a poem about me.
Thank you, Eebi Jonson the first person I collaborated with.
Thank you, Kristy Renae Dalton.
Thank you,  John Stevens for raising your two beautiful grandchildren, I can tell they really love you.
Thank you, so much John Stevens for reading my work and giving me endless amounts of support.
Thank you to John Stevens wife also.
Thank you to all my followers each and every one of you are special to me.
 Aug 2016
Stephan
.

It is the little things
that matter most

A nice gesture,
a friendly smile,
a few moments from your day
that can make all of the difference
in one tiny world

There is so much hate,
so much indifference,
so many hurting,
so many in need
so many lonely,
so many in pain

We are all people
just trying to survive,
make our way through
this hectic life

We can all make this a better place
if we try,
it is so easy to be kind,
to be thoughtful
and if only for a few moments,
to bring some happiness
to someone’s life

It is the little things
that matter the most




http://www.msn.com/en-us/sports/ncaafb/fsus-travis-rudolph-made-an-incredible-gesture-to-a-boy-with-auti­sm/ar-AAihtWD?li=BBnb7Kz
I read this article this morning and I'll admit it, it brought tears to my eyes. It prompted me to write this piece. Please read this article and see how easy it is to make someone's day better.

http://www.msn.com/en-us/sports/ncaafb/fsus-travis-rudolph-made-an-incredible-gesture-to-a-boy-with-autism/ar-AAihtWD?li=BBnb7Kz
 Aug 2016
Stephan
.

Dear Patient,

Here’s the prescription
I promised to write
Just like any doctor might do

An extended leave
A southern location
A room with a beautiful view

A candlelit dinner
Moonlight and roses
A bottle of chilled chardonnay

Romantic music
Soft summer kisses
Sending your worries away

The one of your dreams
An evening together
Love on a warm summer night

A sunrise good morning
Breakfast in bed
Satin sheets woven in white

A day in the sun
Drinks on the river
Affectionate moments for two


Take all you need
There’s no expiration
Unlimited refills for you

Signed,
Your Poetic Physician
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