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 Jun 2016
Stephan


I fell in love with a poet
it was a magical day
Hanging on every stanza
taking my breath clean away

Head over heels I had fallen
reading her each day and night
Lost in her beautiful poems
feeling each word she did write

Hoping her phrases were written
sending affections I'd see
I fell in love with a poet
the poet she loved wasn't me
 Jun 2016
Ann M Johnson
Searching for inspiration where can it be found?
Searching for inspiration while glancing on the ground when
deep in thought.
I look within to see what I might find coming up empty
I continue this quest
I desire only what is best.
I look in the face of family and friends
I glance above and seek strength
I read your poems to see what message they hold my poetry friends.

I suddenly realize that I'm not all alone in this poetic sea
true inspiration is not all up to me.
It surrounds me but often seems unseen
It is found in the wind, earth ,air and sea
It can be found while we are awake or asleep.
It can be found above or here on earth.
It can be found in both public
or in solitary places.

It can be found in the loving faces of family or friends.
It can be found in poetic pages or in printed books.
It can be heard in favorite music that lifts you up.
It can be found in an inspiring speech.
It may be found in the words of a favorite teacher that is remembered throughout the years.
For some, it may be the words of a favorite preacher that offers encouragement and is inspirational.
For others being out in nature in a natural cathedral provides ample poetic inspiration to last for years to come.
It can be found in heartbreak or emotional turmoil that inspires you to turn your scars into stars that shine brightly for others to see.
It may be found through both love and loss.
It can be found despite the cost to you and me.
May inspiration help us weather all the storms that this life holds.
May inspiration be found in all of us  may it continue to strengthen and help us grow not only as writers but in life too.
 Jun 2016
shaffu shafiq
If i die
Don't feel shy
Touch & hold
My shroud
I feel proud
Look at my face
Don't sit in a daze
Look into my eyes
I open my eyes
For a short while
I give you my last smile
And stare at you till my last breath
If i die
Talk to me
Read my poems
Enjoy my rhymes
If you miss me
Tear pages & wipe your tears
And caress my hair
Let me hear
I love you,whisper softly in my ear
If I die
Hold me in your arms
And Kiss my forehead
Stop ,wipe your tears shed
Don't worry''my lovely dear''
Please do remember me
In your daily prayer
Please don't scare
I will come back,I swear
Carry me off in coffin or hearse
But in my poetry
I'm always alive in verse

By shaffu
Shaffu®2016
 Jun 2016
Jack Jenkins
Lately I'm finding it difficult to
Coerce words into flowering poetry
My mind's cracked foundation
Yields nothing in inspiration
Or creativity.

Vibrations shift thoughts about
Darting and fluttering around
You would see my world has
Lost it's stunning brightness
Buried deep.

Certainly I am a nomad under my skin
Finding it harder to survive this drought
So my fractured wings will carry me
Over the grim landscape I live in
Cast away.
 Jun 2016
Michael Blonski
Sink deeply
Into sleep and
Dream of
Bright places
Where you can rest
And write the pages
Of your life
You deserve

Reset your beating heart
To the beat of heavy rhythmic
Pleasure
And succumb to the voice
Of gracious mystic
Splendor

Let your eyes devour
The light of reflected dreams
And lungs gulp
What ink has already
Described

We'll find a way out
And dive deeply
Into the seas that surrounds
The souls of
True loves
Harmony
 Jun 2016
nivek
you know you do not write poetry
every now and again
- poetry borrows your fingers
Much adored is the dead poet

Within the glass case
Away from dirt
Amongst the books pressed
Rests his heart


Such was the silence he dreamed
When words streamed
Like riverine flow
In all might arose
Seeking the order in chaos

Orderly bound now his name
In peace standing behind wooden frame
Yet with the ceaseless commotion of wait...

Much adored rests the dead poet.
Lucid dreaming is the doorway
        to the unconscious.
So dream.
Do not stay closed
        behind cement barricades
        blocking the moon
        from shining.
Live.
Each second is for you.
The tumbling of life
         does not promise
            anything.
In one breath
you can have
        a time table
        handed to you.
A distinct framework
        of how much
        longer you shall be.
Stay in illusion.
Keep in mind
that very little
is worthy of
being screamed about.
Politics
        and
people games
        are not
         the substance
        of existing.
Picture colourful images
         that flutter
          playfully
            across the
           mental horizon.
A traffic light
      will
       blink
red, yellow, green.
A noise
        will dominate
         the shading sky.
These mean nothing.
Moments of distraction
        soon
         gone away.
Focus on fantasy.
Allow yourself
the freedom to
         celebrate
        the essence
        of harmony.
When you die,
       it will be
         your dreams
         that are
          remembered.
Breathe.
It's just
      a bad day,
      not a bad life.
 Jun 2016
Pauline Morris
My heart is very heavy today
For a great poet is lost along the way
His words where always mesmerizing
That is not surprising
For every poem was a gem
For in every poem there are little pieces of him
He laid his heart open for all of us to see
A poet like him, will never again be
I feel very humbled that he took the time to consol us, before his finale journey
Now I must end this poem, for my eyes are just to blurry
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