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 Oct 2018 Illona
Dor
Sun and me.
 Oct 2018 Illona
Dor
The sun strikes my eyes
As I turn my head, left
To look out
The ***** window.

And it suddenly
Hits me.

Searing my eyes
With pain.

Blinding my mind
With white magical light.

At that moment
I think...

No...
I don't think.

I simply close
My eye lids
And with my mouth
I smile.

The widest smile-
The corners of my lips
Reaching my cheeks.

And I breathe.
Breathe and beam.

Enjoying this moment.

The sun
And me.
okay, this poem came to my mind when I seriously turned my head left to look out the window lol. The sun, my lover? oof lol
 Oct 2018 Illona
InLove000
Look At Me
& You Will Understand
How I Feel.
Look Deep In My Eyes
& You'll See Your Name Written In My Eyes
Touch Me Heart When You Near Me
& You'll Know How Much I Love You
No Words Can Explain
I Love You More Than You Believe,
You Are My Life,
My Other Half,
The Man That I Want!
Look Around You,
Has Anyone Loved You More Than I Do?
I Don't Think So !
Always Be Happy
Cause Your Smile Is A Source Of Life For Me.
I Breathe When You Breathe.
But Forgive Me
For What I Say.
I Know You Don't Feel Exactly The Same
But Sometimes I Think That I'm
For You Just A Silly Game
That You Played With Once
I'm Sorry For My Feelings
But I Can't Hand It
I Swear I Can't
I Love You!
Come & Tell Me You Hate Me
That There's No Other Chance,
No Fake Hope.
Don't Show Me, But Tell Me.
& Then I Will Leave
I Swear I Will Leave You,
My Endless Pain.
It's Not Your Fault,
I Can't Blame You
It's Me Who Fell In Love With You
Tell Me Your Truth
& You'll Never See Your Name In My Eyes Again,
Cause I'll keep Our Pas t& My Love
In The Bottom Of My Heart
& I'll Be Gone...
But You Have To Remember That
I Truly Loved You
With All My Hear
And Always Will Do
Whatever Happens
No One Can Takes Me Away From This World
Until That Day I will Never Ever Stop
''Loving You''
 Oct 2018 Illona
E. E. Cummings
it is funny, you will be dead some day.
By you the mouth hair eyes,and i mean
the unique and nervously obscene

need;it’s funny.  They will all be dead

knead of lustfulhunched deeplytoplay
lips and stare the gross fuzzy-pash
—dead—and the dark gold delicately smash….
grass,and the stars,of my shoulder in stead.

It is a funny,thing.  And you will be

and i and all the days and nights that matter
knocked by sun moon jabbed ****** with ecstasy
….tremble (not knowing how much better

than me will you like the rain’s face and

the rich improbable hands of the Wind)
 Sep 2018 Illona
raphæl
my brain and my mind
bemuse my soul of its hole
make me look and it took
every chance of significance
do I ask or do I mask
to decide the inside?
flavor or fervor
compare or contrast
order or ardor
the first or the last
wrong or strong
right or tight
completed or depleted
the night or the light
listen or christen
painting or fainting
sarcasm or ******
feeling or failing
hang or bang
sore or soar
blade or aid
less or more
to slice or to rise
to pry or to fly
to live or to leave
to die or to try
This poem's form connects deeply to my insides, really. Having to choose between two objects or concepts without definite relationships in each line portrays my daily dealing with my own indecisions in life. Well, I hope you decide your insides.
 Sep 2018 Illona
CK Baker
There were dividing lines
between Springfield
and Mariners Gate
soft, subtle lines
that spoke of origin
and code
and biting union

it was all
the reason
for being;
alive and living
dead or dying
deep in a pack
of pint size resistors
hell bent on the
marsh crow
and cannabis tower
jumping the rush
with *** shots
and anchors
and tribunals

camouflage creepers
and transient floaters
marked rebellion at the gates
(skullduggery and taunt
high on their favor list)
jack straws and flat paddles
for the evening charade
beakers and flailing hands
from the foot washing baptist
(the Pleasant Street conservatives with their
own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”)

there's a
lingering effect
to this sentiment
(evident in the pump house stride)
the river winds
blow gently
into the night
as the huddling packers
and **** backs
chase the evening hours

it’s a bitter sweet
end of an era;
those traction bars
hood scoops
and nickel bags
will always
be the rage
 Sep 2018 Illona
Arzella
Surely you,
Jester.
Unduly-expressed.

Lambasted,
insulted.

Abrasive ...
au naturel?

I think...
Surely not.

Unless,
Had the aforementioned not just the will to rip through my throat,
 but too the audacity to penetrate the inclement root you call heart.

Well, I had made my decision.
and lo!
I would have stood by it too;
had my own form of insecurity been given the chance to wilt.

Not further admonished on
how to think. how to act
How 'one' should primarily be.
Instead I lie bludgeoned,
berated;
and by the very thing that
antecedently spurred  
a cascade of unsophisticated giddiness.

That too was far from the cry of a
Devil-may-care persona.
I would almost weep the lost opportunity,  
Whereas I should simply, and most ardently
Just be.
Do not fall inlove with a writer
they see and feel everything.
particles that somersault in the morning ray telling them to embrace the day

They can smell the haunting
aroma of a coffee
whispers 'go grab your pen and write'

they look into a person's eyes
and could witness
how a sea crash into someone's soul

Do not fall inlove with a writer
they appreciate and value everything you do

they could see the entire universe
from your smile
only the ocean could tell
their hopes and fears.

They easily fall and break too hard.

Don't fall inlove with a writer
they'll make you their muse

from good times to bad times,
you will be the lyrics of their song.
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