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Earth – you little blue gem:
Oasis in a great black desert.
Perhaps Unique
With your single Moon –
Queen of The Tides
Or one of millions of Earths
Scattered throughout Space.
Who knows?

Sky blue seas
Draped in cloud curtains
Hints of brown and green
On continents
Teeming with Life.

Paradise Planet
Rich diversity
Of plants
And animals.

Taken for granted
I’m afraid
By people too busy
To appreciate
Her beauty.

All they do is rip down her forests
Bounty hunt for trophies
And make her a greenhouse
Heading towards a Hell
Like Venus.

I hope they soon see sense,
Close down those ugly factories
Allowing our Earth
To cool again.

Does all intelligent life destroy itself
In the end?
Is this why space is silent
When we should be deafened
By radio broadcasts
From other worlds?

I hope not.
The choice is ours.
But first we must open our eyes.
Open them to the sheer beauty
And Splendour
Of our Mother Earth.

Paul Butters

© PB 24\9\2020.
Beautiful Earth.
You are enough
The feeling of your soul ...
It’s something you’ve felt for a long time
What defines attractiveness?
Fitting into some mould?
Or is it more complicated than that?
There is no set criteria
Feel you are desirable -
Literally see yourself as such.
Look in the mirror.
This relationship can be cyclical
This causality speaks to our feelings
We can easily overemphasize the physical
How can you address the situation?
These things can have an impact
Reframe attractiveness.
As much your own mood,
as it is based in reality.
Express what you’re going through
Really try to listen to each other.
Help you to try to figure out why.
Reference - https://www.relate.org.uk/relationship-help/help-relationships/mental-health/i-dont-feel-attractive-enough-be-my-partner
James 1d
Oh beauty of the immeasurable soul
Thy great sea, with sun kissed waves of foam,
Gently embraced by blessed beaches of gold
Exalted holy Forrest! With mysteries untold
Deep turquoise skies stalk towering trees,
Explosions of sun burst through flaming leaves,
Radiant roses reflect a beauty sublime
Echoes of god through all space and time
jac 1d
The cold curls around my toes
Pitch black shines through
Alone at last
Drifting through the cracks
Bounding off my hollow head
Counting the minutes until I’m dead
Sitting in my local coffee shop
sipping a cappuccino with a chocolate top
Laptop out in front of me
Composing lines of poetry
As my attention diverts from the screen
across the room I see your beauty gleam
I try to carry on with my writing
but I crave another sighting
You are sitting on your own
listening to music through one earphone
Your dark eyes full of mystery
I hope they might chance upon me
I do not wish to disturb your peace
but this obsession will not cease
I am in love with your smile
I have been looking at you for a while
I finally build up the nerve to talk to you
when I see your boyfriend sit down too
Lewis 1d
The gods they yearn for mortal malice
For the heartbreak and bittersweet
A god cannot win nor lose
pining for mortality like a child at the windowsill

While gods wage war with fire and stone
Undressed heroes embezzled in golden lights
They know that forever is an enchantment
For a memory holds no power in a life without death
Even stars flicker into darkness
Life cannot be sweet without the wrongdoings of time
Like the sourness of an unripe berry
And the death of a fallen chrysalis

Time electrifies love
Pricking it into existence through forbidden kisses and secret notes

that's where true beauty hides
One must lose to know it is love
Kyle T 1d
These youths, they keep me young
I sit and watch them play
They dance before an older soul
In a lovely kind of way

They speak no words to hear
And yet—
Their volume is prodigious
Their eyes see beyond the realms
With deeper intuitions
My first poem to be published here. Wanted to start short and sweet. Thank you.
Are there any words which capture wisdom?
Grief of Prophets.
Are there any words which speak enlightenment's prose?
Silence.
Are there any words which tell of an artist's hopelessness?
Time: the comparison between two differing things.

Only age can gain age's beauty.
Only in time can tell the artist's proficiency.
Wishing to write a poem.
In the highest barricades
of Millennia
and wilted fields of Lavender,
I might’ve loved you.

I might’ve taken your hand
and let you lead me
through ghoulish night.
I might’ve held you

with the fervor
of endless,
winkless
Dreams,

in holy concaves
of majesty
and infatuation,
saturated

by opal irises
and kisses of
California summer.
I would’ve made you mine,

had I known then
what the Sirens now sing to me,
unrelentingly:
the secrets of Infinity

laid bare,
like iridescent
oil spills
in an empty lot

sodden
with weeds between cracks.
In another life,
I’ll call you back to me.

I’ll draw you back again
with a wrathful, raging love:
wild enough to wake gods,
fierce enough to tame odious tide,

deep enough
to drown aeonic suffering.
And not even Adam
or Eve

themselves
might undo the knots
of Fate
I’ll lace

between You
and I, then.
And I’ll grant you passage
to a second world

with a key that unlocks such
sacred Regret.
And I’ll point out all
the stars named after us,

as they swirl in
clouds of Violet,
storms of Indigo,
seas of twinkling,

ruptured
Gold.
And I’ll set a dagger
on your heart,

and you to mine,
and we’ll die together,
erupting
into

dazzling
bursts
of destined
dust,

travelling far enough
to be drawn together
once
again.
This is a story of regret.
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