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 May 2016 muna
axr
weltschmerz
 May 2016 muna
axr
Weltschmerz
ˈvɛltˌʃmɛːts,German ˈvɛltˌʃmɛrts/
noun*
a feeling of melancholy and world-weariness.

reading the newspaper became a chore
don't wanna read about another war
don't wanna read about climate change
no, don't tell me about the dark side of humanity
might as well lose my sanity
i don't want to know about the dead refugees
it only makes me feel more helpless
rivers flowing with filth
guns buried under corpses of the innocent
i'm a sad being behind a laptop screen
dreaming about glory the world will never see
i'm trying out something. please leave your comments below.
 May 2016 muna
Jack Jenkins
Darkness descends over my eyes,
  But I tell you that I'm perfectly fine.
What crosses my lips are only lies,
  As I slip more and more over the line.
A glass bridge shatters in my soul,
  Paralyzed, I fall away far from grace.
The darkness swallows me whole,
  Lines of anguish are carved in my face.
I realize there's no chance of winning,
  Swimming away, I'm only left drowning.
Crowning moment of my life, my demise.
 May 2016 muna
r
Acres of sadness
 May 2016 muna
r
I dreamed of my father
crossing the fields
on his one-eyed tractor
mowing acres of sadness
heading east of a moon
that'll be gone tomorrow
and I waded the creek
beneath a ridge
where my mother is shearing
dead roses and the smell
of those flowers floating
to the foot of the mountains
reminds me of her hair
and my father's laughter
disappearing across the hill.
The rains came and I was washed away
The grit, the dirt, and the tar
All the unclean parts of myself
Were swept in the downpour
Drifting like flotsam away from me
And then the storms came
Thunder, crashing and lightning, bright
I was struck with that forked spark
and when the haze passed
I was lit up. I was golden.
All the darkness had burned away
 Apr 2016 muna
echo
that moment when
 Apr 2016 muna
echo
you forget
you are a poet
and accidentally
make sense
10w truths
 Mar 2016 muna
Sally A Bayan
Every death
I have felt, or known,
In silence, i mourn,
Within my breath...

No words come upfront
Just thoughts, preponderant...

I'd feel the freezing cold of an empty space
Feel the absence...clearly imagine a lost face
No smiles, spanning from cheek to cheek
Eyes, seek answers...
suddenly, I'm there by the shallow water of the creek
While some nearby creatures quietly chirp...and squeak
While I......... I could not even speak...

Living,
Is realizing...and accepting
At the right time, they turn brown, the weeds...and reeds,
But, under the water...waiting, growing...are their seeds
Brown ferns...are almost detached from a mossy concrete wall
With a strong current, and wind, they'd be carried...ready to fall

The driftwood lying by the shore...is always wet, but petrified
Brown fallen leaves, on the green grass...no more hold...crisp and dried,
The dead bark of a tree...in pieces...are crumbling...
Merging with the wet earth...in a process of fertilizing
Deep down under ....a fresh spark of life is starting.
All these, remind,
Life and death stand side by side,
That in the midst of death-
Something new is birthed...
When faced with death,
there is always someone's living breath
And, as long as the heart wills to beat
Then, life.....will still exist.

Hundreds, or a thousand times,  
We all have died
In the high and low of life's tides,
Physically,
Emotionally.

We remember
Those who have left
Those who have survived..are still around
We think of those who are next to leave,
Waiting for their chests' final heave

---And then, we think of ourselves---

Worry not of our own time
Make each of our remaining days
Be golden, beaming, and bright
With good deeds, and straight pathways

The earth is a moving circle
It makes a round.......as it spins
We try to live outwards....and then, within
Any way we live it...life is an endless cycle.


Sally



Copyright March 23, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***A  HAPPY  EASTER TO EVERYONE!!! ***
 Mar 2016 muna
PJ Poesy
I tell you of unknown tree, actually two
Very last existing of these
Rarest pair whose limbs bend in breeze
Cling to another where others over grew
The Bois Dentelle have nearly been slew

True, I tell you, they exist on their own
On Isle of Mauritius in clouds
Elegant dancing sprays on limbs boughed
Tilting toward extinction, species postponed
Desperate in forest for their kind to be sown

Life ever fragile has lesson for mankind
Delicate is nature, so unpredictable
Not unlike poets, not wholly typical
Obsolete, humanity's inherit bad design
Man, save Bois Dentelle, allow history to unwind
There are only two Bois Dentelle trees remaining on the planet. The pair may slip from existence. They are located on an island off Southeastern Africa, known as Mauritius in its cloud forest. These two trees are very different from other species nearing extinction, in that they are at risk not for what men want of them, but that they offer nothing man wants. Rejected and overlooked, these rarest trees are victims of the more commercially desired guava, which has become an invasive force in these forests. I put to you, minds of reasonable deduction, what happens to poets when their continuation is found obsolete?
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