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 Jan 2020 Juno
Karisa Brown
She speaks when no one else is looking.
 May 2019 Juno
Alaska Young
Writing
 May 2019 Juno
Alaska Young
Perhaps that's the thing about writing
It demands sadness.
 Nov 2018 Juno
Nox
Tired
 Nov 2018 Juno
Nox
I am so tired
tired of waiting
tired of trying
tired of staying awake
staying concius
staying alive.
Waking up
going to bed
both eaqually hard.
The day in between may come and go
emotional storm
tears and laugher.
Life is all well and good.
At times.
Not every time.
Its a round loop like a pariswheel
ups and downs
forever in motion
no rest no time to grieve
grieve pain,
grieve loss of pain
I am unsure
it keeps going
i cant keep up
im so tired
of the pariswheel im tired.
and I have to wake up every day
knowing it has not yet stopped
and i have to mount it again.
and again
you can see?
see why im tired.
sometimes I just want it to stop
 Oct 2018 Juno
Ryan O'Leary
On an overcrowded street,
where bright and darkness never meet,
where voices barter to be heard
from faces hidden behind veil or beard.

Aromas, perfumes, pungent smells,
wafting forth from wishing wells,
coffee roosters wake up the souls,
Bazaars of ochre in sun drenched bowls.

Minarets with nibs of lead
scribe crescent moons on skies near red,
Seraglio Point, which marks the Horn,
where Marmara is Bosphorus born.

The sky blue mosque mocks Mecca's name
but leaves no doubt to which bears fame.
Constantinople or Istanbul,
no place, no name, can be so full.

On one goes, by cheek, by jowl,
eclipsed by fading light in cowl.
No talk of morn, no night yet come,
no curfew called, nor quiet but hum.

Of dreams Aladdin's, of wicks, of lamps,
of sesame, pariahs, tramps.
Of sounds from far off citadels,
of glamour, clamour, peal knell-toll bells.

No sleep, no sheep, no counting herds,
no mudlark talk, no listening nerds.
Romans, Greeks, have gone and come,
left names on stones; Byzantium.

Where west joins east, nigh one the least,
by bridge shake hands, an eyeful feast.
The spawn of dawn, once far, now here,
a call to all, to kneel in prayer.
Plato described it as Utopia, Kallipolis meaning ideal city.
Where bright and darkness never meet? this of course is
introducing the reader to a nocturnal tour via the poem.
Coffee roosters is not a misprint, I have always associated
coffee with the rooster and tea with the owl.
Crescent moons on skies near red, is a metaphor for the abundance of
national flags one sees in Turkey.
Mudlarks are street scavengers.
First line last verse refers to Bosphorus bridge.
The poem is attempting to state how the city
seduced the author to renounce sleep rather then
miss what night had to offer. Few, if any capitals
possess such allure. It ends with Adhan which is
the Islamic announcement from each Minaret.
 Oct 2018 Juno
Donna
Bum fun chair
 Oct 2018 Juno
Donna
I said to a chair
Can you please stop
touching my ***
It said no no no
it's so much fun
:)) silly one
 Oct 2018 Juno
elle jaxsun
simple like rain
on a window pane--
it all sounds the same
drip drops
turn to hurricanes.

simple like rain
the tree branches sway--
wind passes through
whispers secrets to me and you
as the sun sets in the afternoon.

simple like rain.
written 10.08.18//revised 10.09.18
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