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 May 2014 KarmaPolice
Poetic T
Fingers spell out
moments in history,
with  but a movement.
not as easy as it looks (so much in so little)
 Apr 2014 KarmaPolice
Joe Cole
A whiskey and ginger she had before bed
Alas the alcohol fumes went straight to her head
A  wobble in her step  as she crossed the room
Humming to herself a romantic tune
3 steps sideways and 2 steps back
She stood on the dog then sat on the cat
She turned to me with a smile on her face
Said why dont you come and visit my place
Ive got a present for you if you come to my room
But you'll only get it if you get there soon
So I entered her room, heard gentle snores
The present she promised now locked behind tightly closed doors
Oh dear, I should have got there sooner
 Apr 2014 KarmaPolice
Joe Cole
I listen to the sound of the breaking waves
Smell the salt tang in the air
I watch the graceful seagulls
Ride the thermals way up there
No sound of human voice, no strident car alarms
I sit in natures solitude enraptured by her charms
The sea reflects the sinking sun in hues of red and gold
I'll never tire of such things though I grow grey and old
The first gleam of the evening star appears in the ever growing dark
And the golden crescent of the moon begins her journey through the night
No words of mine can best describe natures perfect charm
This is peace, a perfect peace, tranquillity and calm
This was my very first attempt at writing and was written while I was sat on the rocks by the sea
 Apr 2014 KarmaPolice
Poetic T
I look in to the mirror of
tomorrow, and see what
my future self is like, a
moment to see what has
shaped my life.

To see those moments that
made me young with a smile
spread across my face, but
the moments that aged me
for longer that what youth got back.

I look at my reflection of a
future me, and its me really
looking back at my youth
remembering what I was like.

Those moments I cant change
like my refection as glimpse of
a past a future moments, which
cant change just a refection
of my life.
 Apr 2014 KarmaPolice
Leila
I underestimated the search
and came out a fool.
I looked for answers everywhere
and everywhere found ghouls.
I journeyed through the lowest valleys
and with shadows as my fuel.
I searched for this thing you call love
And the love I found was cruel.
So I took pilgrimage to Mecca
and there I learned a golden rule.
I can trek forever-i'll never find what i'm looking for
because you can't make a pilgrim out of a mule
 Apr 2014 KarmaPolice
Amy Snow
I watch you while you sleep
  Sometimes I slowly creep under thy sheets
I don't show myself , I don't like to be   seen.

       When you hear a tip-tap
       You wonder what was that
   You lie to yourself and say it was just         a rat.

While you read this a shiver is running down thy spine. Don't worry it's just me you,ll be fine...
Just kidding you will have to die
Please don't cry, just slowly
Turn your head and look behind
Inspired by a creepypasta
 Apr 2014 KarmaPolice
Mike Hauser
When does a poem first become a poem
The moments it's read
or the second it's born?
When it takes its first breath
on the page it adorns?
When does a poem first become a poem

When does a poem first become a poem
When it finds the right rhyme
no longer feeling alone?
When it sits on the porch
of the old poets home?
When does a poem first become a poem

When does a poem first become a poem
When it takes out the blade
and carves its message in stone?
Or tears the fabric of time
on the lesser known?
When does a poem first become a poem
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