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 May 2016 seth
nivek
Part of you cradles a star
that's why the Sun loves you

your dust is cosmic
your spirit eternal

the light of your star
a heart made for love
 May 2016 seth
tzvi lindeman
Creating a poem was hard to do
It had to rhyme all the way through
Choosing what you want to say
The words must fit in the right way
You must be wise, and of course clever
To succeed in this endeavour
The special thing about a poem
The rhyme of verse, that alone
It makes you think, touches the heart
You cannot but help to love this art
The thoughts they flow, images race
Everything falls into place
It matters not if you're unknown or have fame
As long as the last words all sound the same
It's the rhyme, that made me
Fall in love with poetry
But now poetry is high brow
Stilted words
Fragmented sentence
Fill the spaces with thought
To find the meaning
RIP the poor rhyme
 May 2016 seth
This Guy
Hooked
 May 2016 seth
This Guy
I want you
to be the one who would treat me right
X
#x
 May 2016 seth
david mungoshi
Endless blue everywhere
below and above
a consuming blueness
Perhaps a preview of eternity
 May 2016 seth
Joshuah Hunt
Love
 May 2016 seth
Joshuah Hunt
Serene and sober?
More like suffering and sad.
The truly sad thing is that I'm not
Sad, that is.
I'm quite happy, as things come.
Lonely, perhaps,
Yes loneliness breeds its own
Sorrow, pain, agony.
Is this an inability to love oneself;
This I am certainly unsure.
The idea of being alone I think,
Is what truly makes one suffer.
The physical aspect can be,
Overlooked?
The comfort that comes with
Knowing you have a place
Is the thing that really cures pain.
Here I sit, complaining of loneliness
With a loving family, friends and all.
The love I seek is romance;
This bond is different entirely.
A deep connection to one who,
Has no obligation to be there.
A bond forged with a complete,
Utter stranger is something
Beautiful.
 May 2016 seth
ryn
Chemistry
 May 2016 seth
ryn
.
                         
O         
         o       o
O          
                  O      o        
O    
•fill our beak-
er with un-
told chem-
icals•com-
patible  so-
lvents that
fizz... with
bubbles•m-
ix them in to get
the most homogene-
ous of solutions•introdu-
ce heat in the likes of passion
•never a clean reaction, there will
be residue• never right the first time,
failed attempts will be a few......• but once
distilled from undesirable impurity•........then
handle the mixture with utmost sensitivity........•
you'll get a result that can't be bought with money•
because this love in our hearts is the product of



pure chemistry

.
 May 2016 seth
jalc
full circle
 May 2016 seth
jalc
.

         •we sleep
                                 swad-
                                           dled
                 we manage               tight•
           somehow      to wake            late at
       •and...                  cradled             night•
      the bed                    in the ci-          we toss
   ngle off                      cle of ea-           and tu-
   ms da-                     ch oth-             rn•roll
our ar-                  er's a-             away
sheets•            rms•           and re-
with the                   turn...•
our legs tangle

.
Words by me.
Arrangement by the madly gifted ryn; more of his talent at writing and concrete poetry showcased at http://hellopoetry.com/ryn/
Thank you ryn(:
 May 2016 seth
ryn
Older
 May 2016 seth
ryn
My mirror hangs stoic,
as silently it absorbs all it could with unbiased eyes.
All it receives under the day's sun.
Yet it never stores...
Not memories recent...
Not images perceived from the distant past...

My mirror
exists in the now.
It gives me only the present.
It reveals unequivocally the ground
upon which I stand.
It divulges only in the brutal and honest truth.
The kind of truth photographs could never tell.

Today it showed me what I've been seeing
with eyes half shut.
It showed me that,
I am older now.
Older than I was yesterday.
Older than I was a second ago.

Every wrinkle told a silent tale.
Every tale left quiet scars.
Every scar sang requiems of past mistakes.
And every mistake costed me my youth.

My mirror showed me that...
I'm older now because I've learnt much.
And I'm learning much more
because I'm older now.
An old photograph of myself inspired this.
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