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Maybe some day we will dance
Holding hands in disbelief
As tears of joy
flow from our eyes
While the field of flowers
will cheer in salute
Maybe our eternity
will come to an end
And our day will come
to begin . . . just maybe

Just maybe I hope
beyond my dreams
Waiting for the one you love
 Mar 2017 Lonely Poet
Aeerdna
Trapped in a time loop
where all that happens is you
coming to me, kissing my feelings with your smile,
then crashing me
and leaving me there
with my naked hopes
hiding in the deepest grounds of my heart
again and again.

I am the prisoner of my own deathly wishes,
of the same repeating illusions,
and your voice in my head
is singing the same song on repeat
like a broken cassette
stuck in this old, rusty radio that is my mind.

I am trapped in a time loop
and all I do
is getting lost
somewhere on the paths of your soul
where my dreams get born
just so they can go to die.
 Mar 2017 Lonely Poet
Anna
Oh she!
I now remember
When I saw her dark eloquent eyes
They had a hint of emerald

Oh she!
With her fiery aura
Which had a unique ability
To beguile anyone that comes around

Oh she
Her words were enough
To lure anyone to follow her command

And now
I see her again
Blurring everything around except her
With her same enticing eyes she glanced
No words
Nothing she said
Just came towards me
Once again
Just like before
And I can do nothing but to fall again
But this time knowing the consequence

Again I curl my arms around her.
Again I touch her soft succulent skin

And there is nothing I can do
Nowhere I can go
But towards her
A poem depicting a guy's thought when he sees his long gone lover again and could not resist himself from falling for her again
 Mar 2017 Lonely Poet
Mike Essig
You must have a mind of winter...*

A gelid wasteland.
Your mittens disappear.
It feels cold without hands
and a ***** when your nose runs.
Winter chips your heart away
like flakes from a butter sculpture.
You are writing the secret history of Ice.
You never can discover the end.
Time has frozen into fragments.
Each fragment blasts a finale.
Let your reader choose the period
Crawl back into bed.
Clutch the covers to your chest.
Dream of laughing flamingos.
 Mar 2017 Lonely Poet
L T Winter
Help!

Screamed my mulberry bush.
It was more peculiar than not,
Wearing damsons for shoes.

She cried so mutely,
While the winds pouted softly.
Expressing exaggerations of briskly
Soaked demons delivering
Allegory.

In the form of tapping leaves-
Scrying for millennium branches
And canker-core enlightenment.

We merely are-- broken mishaps
Bearing mutations; teeny-tiny
Fluctuations in the dust of dusts.
 Mar 2017 Lonely Poet
Polar
We start from nothing
And spring from dreams
Reaching through dimensions
And time.
I stand like a rock
Rooted to the earth beneath my feet
Know this place
Own this space
Whilst possessing nothing at all
Still I fly
Pondering reality
Dreaming with clarity
Knowing only
Love survives all.
 Mar 2017 Lonely Poet
Ali Qureshi
I have made a note
of what Mr. King wrote.
He warned: “It’s best to stay away!
Listen, to what I have to say!


It’s eating your brains!
As if a Zombie.
Listen, if your wit remains,
I’m talking about T.V.

Yes the telly, the box.
Where you catch – the fox.

                                     “It’s news to me.”
                                                            ­            “Didn’t  you hear me say-”
                                             “I’ll read about it, see?
                                                       ­                               “Well… Okay.”


(Now her phone’s ringing)
How good if she just- read on.
Instead what she’s viewing?
‘Her pic’ someone commented on.

“Why don’t you just listen
to me”
, I said.
She threw a mug, caught, taken-
but with my head.

She was out! Out of my room,
Out of my house, out of my life.
Here I hoped a flower will bloom,
I’ll propose, and she’ll be my wife.

Ah! The beauty of pain.
Thoughts of her, in the rain.
Oh! no- not again. She’s back.
All my efforts, rendered, in vain.

**© Ali Qureshi
Inception of this poem (fiction) was inspired from the 6th tip among "Stephen King’s 20 Tips for Becoming a Frighteningly Good Writer", an article on smartblogger.com; where he discussed about how he cut his TV time short and did better by reading more instead.
 Mar 2017 Lonely Poet
Alice
Able
 Mar 2017 Lonely Poet
Alice
your opinions are debatable
persona? not quite dateable
in fact, you're very hate-able
and that is why I am not able
to keep telling this sweet fable
and living within your labels
this relationship is not stable
lets return to the drawing table
and from the equation we should subtract


You.
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