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 Dec 2017
PaperclipPoems
I walked as far as I could
Off the beaten path
Between the weeds and overgrowth

Next to the river
I found a fountain
I found a spot that felt like home

I stayed just to listen
To feel my heart beat once again
I forgot what it was like to feel alive

I don't know how to be me
More like me
The girl I know is trapped inside
 Dec 2017
Eric W
It’s been a long journey, yes,
but I am still moving.
I don’t understand how to accept kindness,
and I’m sure I’m insensitive —
I’m getting there.
I’m moving past years of resentment,
piles of bitter, stinking trash and ****,
to being able to give
as well.

I’ve always been bashful about those
being kind to me,
and doubly so when I am kind
to others.
I am kind without an audience.
Certainly it stems from feeling unworthy
if kindness received,
and feeling my kindness is an unworthy
reciprocation.
Sometimes it’s self-fulfilling.

Up until recently in my life,
I’ve never been able to give anything physical.
I’m still trying to understand if I’m
emotionally bankrupt,
so that’s uncertain.

My birthday is soon, and Christmas is coming.
December always forces these feelings into light,
but I’m still making progress on them
year by year.
 Dec 2017
Dimitrios Sarris
The greatest gift of all is to bear the pain
of your loved ones wihtout breaking and
as frightening might be that pain will make
you feel stronger to stand for them and
selflessly grant them comfort.
the soul sometimes gets
drifted into a soulbank
gets piled on top
of other drifted souls
awaiting the next
dance with
what they love
to be embraced by the
universe and
waltzed or
tangoed or
salsa’d
into Love

patience is faith and
faith is trust in
the drift


c. 2107 Roberta Compton Rainwater
“Sometimes we’re asked to drift away from the crowd in order to be found by what we love.” ~ Mark Nepo
 Dec 2017
Mike Adam
Yes, I screamed
Between mothering thighs
Emerging into light,

Masked man wielding
Forceps.

Yes I screamed against
The coming of light and,

Ageing now in
Deepest night,
Yearning for the
Dying of all light-

Amniotic fluid

Of

The


Dark.
 Dec 2017
Grace
-
My brain is a locked door
and I've misplaced the keys.
Nothing will go in and
nothing substantial will come out.
I've knocked and I've rung,
but all to no avail.
The only response is the letterbox
hurling out junk mail
and words I've used before.
I haven't written any decent poetry lately, so have a short little thing.
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