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Who understands poets like us?
We see the universe in a person
We see sadness as a plus
We see the good when times worsen

Who can understand us?

We sit back and daydream
When others would despair
We grasp the magic of the moonbeam
Our hearts awaken to the fair

Who can understand us?

We put words to the artist's soul
We write the songs of bards
To voice the immortal is our goal
Of ancient legends we are guards

Who can understand poets like us?
Who can understand our hopes, our loves, or dreams except...
Each other
 Aug 2018 Hunter Mars
egghead
We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you
Heart.

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.
Inspired by the Vanity Fair article of André Aciman's reaction to his book *Call Me By Your Name* being made into a movie. Specifically the quote, "I couldn't write silence."
 Aug 2018 Hunter Mars
She Writes
You asked me why I like you
But I didn’t want to tell
Some of my reasons are cheesy...
But here is why I fell

I love the way your lips curve
When I make you smile
It makes me want to pull you close
And kiss you for awhile

I love the way your eyes twinkle
When you talk about things you love
I truely believe
You are a gift from above

I love that you are compassionate
You have such a big heart
That was the first thing I noticed
Right from the start

I love the way it feels
When you hold me tight
I finally feel safe
Like I could sleep through the night

I love that you don’t judge me
For my less than perfect self
That is more attractive
Than any amount of wealth

There are so many more reasons
But I’ll start with just this few
Maybe someday
I’ll give this poem to you

:)
 Aug 2018 Hunter Mars
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
 Jul 2018 Hunter Mars
Tom Balch
And when she smiles
the world lights up
with warming sunlight glow,

and when she cries
the earth is kissed
with tear drops falling slow,

and when she screams
the thunder roars
with such a frightening force
and lightning lights her angry words
as through her veins
the wrath takes course.

Whatever the mood
her beauty glows
from tenderness to rage,
impossible it is to keep
mother nature caged,

but when she smiles
the world lights up...

with a warming sunlight glow.
 Jul 2018 Hunter Mars
Nigel Finn
I broke my heart into pieces today-
It scattered all over the floor,
My friends stood and stared at me blankly,
And said "what are you doing that for?"

I broke my heart into pieces today-
It seemed like the right thing to do,
I figure now they can cover more distance,
And hope one of those pieces finds you.

I left bits on the train in the subway,
And some beneath shady old trees,
A few dozen in pages of favourite books,
And let a few drift on a breeze.

Yes, I broke my heart into pieces today,
As people gave dumbfounded stares,
I tried to explain to them calmly;
A broken heart's one that still cares,

So I broke my heart into pieces today,
To stop it going withered and black,
Hoping maybe one finds the right person,
Who is capable of loving it back.

I left one of them in this poem,
If you find it, dear reader, take care!
It is capable of loving you fully,
Though it's barely a wisp in the air.
I've been single now for three, possibly four years (but who's counting,right?). My last serious relationship ended, via phone, on what really should probably have been my deathbed in a hospital who's staff turned out to be capable of minor miracles.

Obviously at the time my heart was broken- we were due to be married and we had spoken of starting a family. I was truly and utterly devastated and hated myself immensely for a while.

Over time though, I gradually moved on- through sadness to bitterness to being quite uncaring about the whole business. My heart grew full again. It was never incapable of loving, but my mind refused to give it away fully, and a full heart, I had reasoned for many years, was the only sort worth giving. I have learnt, over the years, to accept this is absolute poppycock. There is no shame in being wary or afraid. There is no harm in gradually giving each piece of my heart, my story, and who I am, over time.

Trust has been a bit of an issue for me, and self-worth even more so. While I'm probably still not quite a fully functioning human being, I think it may be time to at least dip a toe into the lake of love and test the waters.

After all- who knows? Perhaps she's reading this poem right now...
 Jul 2018 Hunter Mars
She Writes
There is too much regret
In unspoken words
The quiet thoughts
Whispered only to the moon

There is too much longing
In wishful thinking
Daydreams
Can quickly become a nightmare

There are too many tears
Spilled onto pillows
Over suffering and longing
From words unsaid
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