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I hear
her screams
of loneliness
love—
Faint and distant
but caught
in storm.

Venus cries softly,
Like two lovely doves—
Yet her voice
torn between
the dust of
abandon hell
and the
fallen silent stars
dancing across
the midnight skies,
where it shines
her beautiful scars.

I hear
Venus screams—
Her tears drop
like rain,
fear consume
Venus’s mind.
Her storms howl
louder than
Zeus’s thunder—
Yet left unchanged,
unheard.
Her heart,
still fresh—
Yet her soul,
almost left
for dead.

I hear her screams.
Venus burns—
Still, she waits...
 Mar 14
Clay Micallef
The sky is a stormy
kind of strange indigo
daffodils are reaching
out for attention
the mountains
crumble with a
matter of urgency
my dreams are a
puddle of mud and
sullen reflection
tears spill into an open
field of wild orchids
the gods are drunk
with the thunder  
of excitement
I drift in and out of
dark dreaming I am
just a passenger in this
strange and awful place
sometimes when the
lights are low I often
wonder why do colours
fade away when you
need them the most …
Clay.M
 Mar 13
Bekah Halle
Power of Remembering

A brisk pace

Walking to work,
I was struck, with the memory:
the time when I could not walk...
After a stroke, during brain surgery, and a 40-day coma…
My step indeed picked up to a brisk pace,
and a smile came upon my face.


Thankful.
Lent is the practice of sacrifice (going without) and remembrance. I am giving up chocolate this year and will try to write a poem in my new “Lent Collection” each day. Enjoy!
 Mar 13
Traveler
This is a global advisory

The Traveler has been in contact
With the quantum subatomic
Microscopic level intruder
Like a hungry ape
The virus is in a feeding frenzy
Swinging from molecule to molecule
I hereby
Calm poetic immunity
To any pandemic collection
May you all be safe.
Traveler
 Mar 13
JAMIL HUSSAIN
Listen—hear the whispers of the moon, bold and clear,
A voice from the depths of stillness, calling you near.
From the quiet twilight, where time holds its breath,
I rise, my soul ignited, shedding the veil of death.
From dust I rise, my spirit set ablaze with yearning,
To soar in realms where love’s eternal flame is burning.
In the depths of Being, where time and space are no more,
I seek the essence of forever, an unending shore.

I cast aside the chains of fleeting, worldly dream,
The false illusions that shimmer but vanish like a stream.
No longer do I hunger for crowns or hollow fame,
For I have found a fire that burns beyond all name.

Let not the chaos of the world distract your heart,
For it is but a fleeting storm that tears all things apart.
In the silence of the soul, where the self fades away,
I hear the voice of wisdom, calling me to stay.
Not in the pursuit of glory, nor the world’s fleeting grace,
But in the surrender of ego, I find my sacred place.

The path is not for the eyes, nor for the feet to tread,
But for the heart to listen, where no map is spread.
I rise, the tree of the vineyard; my ghazal is my fruit,
From my fruit, create the wine of the crimson root.

I carve no roads upon the earth, no trace for man to find,
But in the depths of my being, I leave the world behind.
Here, in the stillness, where all illusions cease,
I merge with the Infinite, and rest in boundless peace.
Rising from Dust 12/03/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
 Mar 12
JAMIL HUSSAIN
The heavens tremble, in love’s gentle glow,
As the heart’s forgotten space begins to grow.

No words are needed, nor brush to impart,
For love lives in the deepest part of the heart.

So drink of its essence, let it rise and soar,
In every breath, in every pore.

For when love is known, the soul finds its rest,
In its tender hold, we are truly blest.
The Core of Love 12/03/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
 Mar 12
Bekah Halle
Loved

I am…..




                                                     …LOVED.
Lent is the practice of sacrifice (going without) and remembrance. I am giving up chocolate this year and will try to write a poem in my new “Lent Collection” each day. Enjoy!
 Mar 12
Ross J Porter
Feet firm on earth,
still chasing dreams
in a world now his own.

Sweat spills from strong pores,
forging currents of futures
he now shapes.

Tight embraces,
arms steady and sure,
a father’s pride made strong.

Wood and leather,
worked to tough threads—
faith stitched into his resolve.

Grass stains on knees,
still bending the world
to his will,
moved by purpose.

Anthems of hope
rise in his voice,
lifting his father’s soul
to love’s high planes.

The quiet secrets
of love and compassion,
once hidden by modesty,
are now lived out loud.

He follows his path
through shifting fields,
where once slick frogs slipped
through eager hands—

A world he builds,
a world he claims,
a world his father
now trusts to his hands.
A follow up to "Son"
 Mar 12
Mitch Prax
I miss you like
a seed in winter
craving the warm sunlight
of your touch and the
rejuvenation of your rains
to keep me blooming
throughout  
the year.
 Mar 11
Bekah Halle
He hears

Whenever I am lonely,
I cry out to  you.
Lent is the practice of sacrifice (going without) and remembrance. I am giving up chocolate this year and will try to write a poem in my new “Lent Collection” each day. Enjoy!
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