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Aditya Roy Jun 2020
I will stalk the high road, alone
Not take the youthful bend of woods
Through the looped ends of hills, stalking fortune
I shall watch the empty, mournful horizon
Life is but an empty nightmare
If you walk among oceans, day arising
If you can hear the slow, powerful verse
You will see that life's waters made slow, silent
With these small slumbers, the heart that listens
If I am striding, through love's blissful glisten
No great matter, more than possessed suns
Breathless across eloquent skies, golden
Like a bird unchanged, by the deep serene
Finding my love's hue, in lost marines of blue
This should be easy if you like iambic pentameter stuff.
"Be kind, for whoever you meet is fighting a hard battle."- Plato
Easterly Sep 2018
My soul clanks when the hammer of Truth hits
And beflats my whole existence, that rusty one sits
On the anvil, there I lie half conscious, half sleep stricken,
My Smith hurls and my soul clanks!
Had I been plastic rust wouldn't dare to touch it!
I would be perfect to be moulded into a dummy,
A gentle lifeless creature, dancing on the notes of their fingers,
Loved and longed, and the sleep's harbinger;
In a sick fluke as metal I was sent,
Strong against storms yet vulnerable to the wind.

O my Smith! Would you make a tool out of me?
Or am I long gone? An useless fish out of the pond?
Are my pores too many? O my Smith! Hit me
Until I be the sword of a king's pawn.
Sally A Bayan May 2017
(haikus)

eggs aren't done yet,
deep frying oil sizzles loud,
my eyes meet pale red,

i anxiously taste
Korean strawberries......but,
..........eagerly, i sniff,

home smells of....fried rice,
garlic...coffee...petrichor,
sweet scents...wafting 'round.


   (10w)

youTube plays
Moondance by Van Morrison
shoulders sway...fingers tap.

i glow...while singing
with Don Mclean's
Starry Starry Night.


strangers knock, looking for never-heards,
at six AM?
very extraordinary!

then guards
warn us of strangers,
a bit too late!

clatter of china says,
table's ready...
wait...
rain is pouring!

where're you,
Creedence Clearwater?
have you ever seen the rain?

gosh....the dogs again!
...chased away
both cat and kittens :-(


     (14 lines)

the table...now speaks loudly
of perfect sunny-side-ups
mushroom omelet with sliced sausages
there's toasted bread......fried rice,
and fried plantain bananas, too,
all steaming hot......the aroma
......of arabica........brewing...
the many unexpected moments
that keep popping out of the blue
create a palette of bright colors
and moods for this new day...
i await more of these "unexpecteds,"
this  flow of eclectic poetry
really knocks me off my feet :))


Sally


Copyright April 23, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
(one Sunday morning in April)
Liora Jensen Apr 2017
V
I only wish to see the artist play
a game that does not interfere with this.
A portrait of a mind that doesn’t stay
in line with what is taught to all our kids.
A nuclear weapon set to self destruct
a tiny tear in threadless high design
an addict who is honest to the rug
to which he whispers into every night.
I want to see the artist make a dent,
to smash the frame until it’s fine enough
to form into a line he might regret
and breathe it in until he can’t stand up.
How obvious the stakes become, at last
when every perfect piece is printed fast.
Words don't come to me when I think of you;
They slip through my fingers to this sandy ground.
Perhaps if I knew just exactly who
You were, the words would finally be found.
You are mysterious, but so am I;
You don't show emotion, but then, I don't.
Seeing you come can make me smile wide,
But when you dissolve into mist, I won't.
I only know the numbers in your dreams,
The things you wish, the things you're hoping for
But there's another side to you it seems
Maybe if I look, I will find there's more.
Who knows where our paths may someday lead us?
It's more than I can hope to be in love.

— The End —