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 Dec 2014 Harsh
Tracey Katz
The earth is not flat, yet
we talk of corners and I
Am loaned a smile, in
knowing you are in one
Your daily business, gone
about and your thoughts
Turning sometimes, twice
to me in my window seat
Watching the tumble of
grey-white cloud kings, riding
Across the same sky that
may adorn your brow, so
Quizzical, full of wonderment
that on this sphere of mud-flats
There are still new findings
to be had and jewels hidden
In the dazzling form of persons
in the corners of my globe
When you see rays of sunlight in a grey sky, that light up the clouds and touch the earth, I call them godfingers. I like to think they reach everyone I care about no matter where they are.
 Dec 2014 Harsh
curlygirl
Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.
 Nov 2014 Harsh
Kylia
Life's shield
 Nov 2014 Harsh
Kylia
It's
fascinating how
at night, the moment my eyes
filter out reality, my blanket transforms
into                      a                    shield,
warding off all the spears that life hurls
towards me, only to shatter like
glass in the light of
tomorrow.
Sometimes my poetry tingles have weird, weird timings. This thought decided to flutter into my insomniac brain while I lay under my poofy blanket and worried about ghosts and monsters under my bed.
 Nov 2014 Harsh
lulu
everyday
 Nov 2014 Harsh
lulu
the sun is up
and it's 7am
i lay here awake,
dreaming of you again.

i dream of
the endless possibilities of the love
we once shared
and the places it could have taken us.

i dream of
the times our hands were clapsed so tight because we never want to let go,
the times we spent together,
and the times when we still loved each other.

i dream of you
for i know that what we had was something beautiful
and we were destined for something wonderful.

i guess it was the distance
that caused our love to reach its end
or maybe we're just lost pieces
that don't fit.

the moon is up
and it's 7am
i'm still laying here
dreaming of you again
a poem written in the four corners of a coffee shop.
 Nov 2014 Harsh
Spike Milligan
Said Hamlet to Ophelia,
'I'll do a sketch of thee,
What kind of pencil shall I use,
2B or not 2B?'
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