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 Mar 2020 kate
Troy
Writer’s Block
 Mar 2020 kate
Troy
My quill set for the page,

Yet my mind’s eye is upstaged,

Betwixt them sits a wall,

But here no war shall be waged,



I search for beauty and pathos,

Yet my aperture gathers only stone,

If the barrier were to give itself kudos,

For having left my page all alone



But to think of the possibility,

That the wall itself but not a writer,

That the curvature of the laden brick,

Creates a paradox of the block.
Told myself I havent written a poem lately, and I got a rather rapid writers block. so Why not use what I have?
 Mar 2020 kate
Gina
Am I dead?

Dancing in the moonlight, I sang a soothing song. You laughed.

I live.

Clouds come in on puffy fluffs. You float away.

Until the morning tide.

Waters suffocate me. Your hand on my mouth, pressing down so my parents can't hear. Lights dance inside my eyes as I press my legs together.

It's  too late. You impress me. Your seed has penetrated my womb and the child is born.

There's blood on my white pillow case. Shards of brick in my hair. A brick, broken in half on the floor.

My head is pounding, aching, throbbing.

My heart. Oh, my heart! It is dying.
 Mar 2020 kate
Lili
moonlight
 Mar 2020 kate
Lili
and in that moment
she realized she was no longer
trapped in the moonlight.
as the suns forgiving rays
graced her skin for the first time in years
she felt like things
might just be okay again.
 Mar 2020 kate
Mrs Timetable
You looked at me
Cleared your handsome voice
Took a deep breath
Forgot all the words
Then kissed me

Beautifully expressed my sweet
Sometimes you don’t need words
 Mar 2020 kate
Leigh Everhart
Forgive me, for I have since forgotten.
I have traded in my inkblood for parchment
I have starched the graffiti from my walls,
Ignored calls from long-dead poets,
Because I never quite quoted them the way that I was meant to.
I have bent to the divine quill, my fill of pretty words
Has overflown into untouched urns and silent monasteries.
Forgive me, for I have banished my sword-drawn histories
I have untangled the vanquished threads of my revelry.
This verse is an apology.
This verse is my best memory.
 Mar 2020 kate
Third Eye Candy
like a margarine heart of a Georgia peach
the sun bogs at the bottom of the sky and i boggle
at the merriment of surrender,,, as the hours retire
to their night clocks and mice pitch sit-coms
in cornfields -
while you sleep
through spectacular
epiphanies
that a heartache
can hardly
pretend.
 Mar 2020 kate
Riz Mack
-
 Mar 2020 kate
Riz Mack
-
the tempest rages
a storm is all it can be
nature is absolved
if you're not wholly yourself, you're only half something else
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