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 May 2017 Mallory
chasing rain
you tended to parasites,
thinking they were blossoms.

you expected them
to grow around
and into
the person
i used to be.

you expected something beautiful.

but now,
vines are constricting me,
growing around me,
curling inside me.

insects are scuttling on me,
through me,
they are a part of me.

i am made up
of parasites,
of weeds,
and wilted flowers.

everything good in me
has been devoured by
everything bad you've cultivated.  

(i reach out to you,
hoping you will feed me
with praises,
with smiles,
with gentle intentions.)

but you water me
with hurtful words,
disappointed gazes,
and angry actions.

you expect
a paradise
in me,

and you are disappointed
when you see a barren wasteland
in the person
i was supposed to be.

and i am disappointed
because i cannot grow
the way you want me to
with the way
you nurture me.
 May 2017 Mallory
Nida Mahmoed
I am sewing a dress
with the thread of strength,
And knots of ambitions,
And when it’s ready,
Then will iron it
with the remission,
I am sewing my broken soul!

By: Nida Mahmoed.
Walking among the Autumn leaves
On a cold and blustery day,
Between an avenue of trees
As the daylight passed away,
The shadows lengthened across my path
And my way was hit or miss,
As a sudden wind would seem to blend
My other world, with this.

A world where nothing would make much sense
I’d lost it all, I knew,
Where day was night when it should be bright
And it left me, looking for you,
A world of shadows and woods and streams
Where there’d been a town before,
And the sea crept in where it might have been
For a million years or more.

While creatures high in the treetops there
Reflected their blinking eyes,
From a sudden ray at the close of day,
Just as the Moon would rise,
It was such an alien place to be
It was grim, and chill, and old,
As I wandered by an ancient sea
In a dark place of the soul.

I remembered how you had said to me
On the last day that we’d met,
How I would rue the loss of you
In a wasteland of regret.
And I had laughed as I slammed the door
To return the way I came,
Not thinking that I would miss you too,
But the end result was pain.

While you remained in the hospital
And stared with your sunken eyes,
I couldn’t bear that I’d put you there
With my lack of care, and my lies.
The doctor said you were almost dead
With your heart split open wide,
It’s only now, and it must be said,
That it wasn’t you that died.

David Lewis Paget
 May 2017 Mallory
Meenu Syriac
I keep my words to myself.
Hidden, locked,
Buried under the earth.
Quiet, they say.
Don't you ever want to talk to us?
Open your soul to us?

I do.
All
The
Time.

And in moments like these,
A few may escape.
As poetry,
That barely tells the story.
As poetry,
That rarely makes sense.
Dented,
Tainted,
Stuttering,
Like a broken record.

But are you listening?
©Meenu Syriac
 May 2017 Mallory
Cné
What is the sky
but a canvas for clouds?
What is a city
but a canvas for crowds?
What is the meadow
so verdant and green
but a canvas for sheep
a pastoral scene?
What is the ocean
with reflections so blue,
than a canvas for sails
as they drift into view?
I think I shall paint...
 May 2017 Mallory
Stu Harley
lord
in
the
still of the night
i'm
reminded of thee
while
i'm
up on the hill
trapped in the gray storm
and
the gravity
oh
lord
if
you leave the light on
 May 2017 Mallory
Styles
Canvas
 May 2017 Mallory
Styles
Her flesh
was his canvas
his hands spread over her body
like paint saturating its canvas
emotions surfaced
like oil paintings
her body shivered dying for his strokes
long throws of passion
sliding across her body like
satin brushes over skin
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