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 Aug 2016 Mary Pear
Prathipa Nair
Wearing different masks made me forget myself
Accustomed to the habit of hearing
Me having a heart of stone
Except You my God
Who knows how it grieves
How it feels for others
And how it cries inside
No one ever tried to have a look into it
But it's not ready to grieve
As You are there my Almighty
Always there are prayers for my friends and foes
The only one who know my heart well
Thanking You O' thee
sometime it is
in the act of writing
that we create the sense
of what we want to say

as if the process of articulation
    when we are fishing for the proper words
is generating meaning
inventing itself in its own genesis

leaving the poet amazed

sometimes even the readers
when I look up
   into a clear night sky
and feel
   the vastness of the universe
   touching me
it calls up
all the words
humankind has constructed
throughout millennia
so as to face the skies
   with dignity
and not go insane
   instantly
with this vague
   but almost overpowering
sense of helpless awe

neither
the most sophisticated machines
   we send to the edges
   of our solar system
nor the most complex theories
can calm me
when I look up
into a clear night sky
time is
the space in which we grow
   without awareness
   in our early years
structured by meals
   arrivals and departures
   light and dark
   hot and cold
   school   studies  play  adventures
   celebrations
and by waiting
   anxiously or not
for things to happen

time is
that feeling
that we may not have enough of it
in our later years
busy with jobs and family and travel
covering long distances in order to
achieve and educate and care

time is
what starts to rush by us
with increasing speed
in our final years
making us wonder
what it really means

that space
by which we measure
our lives
   our universes
      our worlds

time is
 Aug 2016 Mary Pear
Lora Cerdan
I have the heart of a believer and the mind of a skeptic
Some say it's a gift, I say it's tragic
I live in a universe of chaos inside my head
Who among us is truly at peace but the dead?
you can't escape the cages of your own mind.
 Aug 2016 Mary Pear
Vesna Rau
Thousand times I walked on this path
Thousand times I was in rush
Thousand times I saw my own thoughts
Thousand times I heard my own steps

Today I walked on this path again
As I walked there for the first time

I saw the big oak standing there for hundred years
Crinkles and scars gracing his body
Daisies and daffodils warming his feet
The eyes of a green man are smiling at me

The meadow is invitingly soft
The sunbeams are tickling my face

I took of my shoes of and watched my steps
My feet got wet loving blades of grass
My soul turned green
My fingers touching gently the face of a green man

The dewdrops are sparkling in the sun
Washing my face

The meadow puts its arms around my body
Hugging me gently like a caring lover
Dressing me in most beautiful dress I ever had
Filling my heart with love

All my senses got busy
The silence makes a sound

The birds are singing
The warm breeze playing music in the leaves
The butterflies are dancing in the wind
The sky is deep blue

I feel the heartbeat of mother earth
Swaying me slowly in a sleep…

… dreaming of a green man …
For Lore - Thanks honey :-)
 Aug 2016 Mary Pear
GaryFairy
everywhere i go there's a cop
not a real cop, but someone trying to convict me
incarcerated by their eyes
i'm stuck in their cell and they restrict me

everywhere i go there's a God
not a real God, but someone trying to judge me
i'm condemned by their eyes
i'm stuck in their hell and they begrudge me
read fast to get the flow
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