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On the first day of x-mas
My ex wife gave to me
a card from her new attorney

On the second day of x-mas
My ex wife gave to me
Two weeks to leave
and a card from her new attorney

On the third day of x-mas
my ex wife gave to me
Three poloraids
two weeks to leave
and a card from her new attorney

On the fourth day of x-mas
my ex wife gave to me
Four hotel bills
Three polaroids
two weeks to leave
and a card from her new attorney

On the fifth day of x-mas
my ex wife gave to me
five ....oh hell
I was gone...by this time
who am I fooling

and a card from her new attorney
 Apr 2015 Philia
Virginia S
~dead~
 Apr 2015 Philia
Virginia S
Love;

Don't worry if i'm angry
don't fear if I yell
The real me is dead.

Don't listen to my words.
for i know they are
only meant to hurt.

I think you know
this isn't me
you know i'm out of me

With time ill learn
how to be
the broken me.

I'm sorry if i'm angry
I'm sorry if I yell
the lovely me  is dead.
 Nov 2014 Philia
Joseph Schneider
As walked with the devil accept no fear.
Moans of pain affected only by a cowards ear.

Valleys light lit the darkest hour.
Through sands of time became sour.

Tides always turn nevertheless.
For our prolonged hiatus for the best.

The ones known by many I give thanks.
To those few who walk to meet the planks.

Frame by frame pages are torn.
For those are no longer sworn.

Only acquired by many past tense hate.
As we build our bridge for future date.

He conquer sight Long lived by one tale.
See as he will, guided to see no fail.

As his course viewd by multiple eyes.
All known why, in history he lies.

-Joseph B Schneider
© Joseph B Schneider. All rights reserved

I wrote this back in 2010. The first poem I actually ever wrote.
 Nov 2014 Philia
Joseph Schneider
Hold
On
Pain
Ends
The Color Morale
 Nov 2014 Philia
ryn
In Solitude
 Nov 2014 Philia
ryn
.

In solitude...
There's constant talk of the moon
And incessant wishes upon stars
Each word is cast unto paper
Unsure if they'd stretch that far

In solitude...
I embody pelts of droplets from the sky
As thunder mark the seconds that would elapse
Stagnant puddles of liquid dreams
Ever flowing in endless traps

In solitude...
I feel the urge to lose all balance
Aloneness beckons like a long lost friend
Always strange but familiar
To see and be at the bitter end
 Oct 2014 Philia
Alok Mishra
Poet
 Oct 2014 Philia
Alok Mishra
A Poet
Call me nothing,
I am a poet.
The beast
Wild and wise
Roaming for grass
In the waste land.

Alok Mishra
Tuesday, 28 October 2014
What is a poet?
 Oct 2014 Philia
Christine
Poets
 Oct 2014 Philia
Christine
Poets show their naked pain

And this, I think
Pouring yourself onto pages
Is the greatest art of all
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