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Unpolished Ink Nov 2020
Winters frozen earth my tomb below a shadowed frosty mothers face, a working boot with rusted nails that pushed me deep beyond the freeze to where I came upon another place, a womb of warmth within the soil

The fallen leaves which flew me to my doom, became a broth to speed me into verdant life.  I cannot say how long I lay within my room, growing fat among the worms which chewed my infant food and burrowing things all shiny on their backs like glass which passed and took me to the sun and light and air.

My growing place I knew not where, was ploughed and ready land where I so small could barely see above the plants which grew around me as a coat and shield from spring and summer heat.

For so it came to pass upon my second year and more when I did chance to see the floor the grass and daisies at my feet for I had grown so tall that they were hardly there at all.

A mighty oak I stand through changes to the times which seem to work though some mysterious and unknown hand. I heard the ***** of soldiers in their passing off to war and heard returning feet of some I heard before.

And when my limbs became so heavy and then thickened to  a width beyond what eyes could see, they changed the name upon my trunk and I became the famous hanging tree, it was not right, it was a man who pulled the rope and took a fearful struggling life, not me.

The seasons came and went and all around me in my view, began to build and change from what I always saw and knew to be my place, tall buildings sprang from what had been a lonely space, of solitude and wind that whipped my leaves and brought my children to the ground, as that surround which I had long held dear began to fade and slowly disappear replaced by traffic ever near.

I cast my green and shaded eyes upon grass and daisys once again, an old and fallen victim of the rain, now I with scurrying creatures lie upon my back to see the sky, so once I grew and now I die, to sink beneath the soil from whence my acorn came, I lived the life which all of us man beast or tree have only temporary claim.
Please be kind, it is a new venture. I am not known for writing long poems so there might not be another one. I just felt inspired today.
COUNT
Count your age by friends not by years,

Count me together with them.

Count your happy memories  and leave behind the sad,

Count together those who loathe you but their hate results into goodness.

Count those who pretty calm you down when mad.

Count them that thinks you are mad at them but you're actually not.

Now count and know you not just your age but more.

Count families;

Friends all are part of your age.

Wishing you the best life can offer...
  HAPPY NEW AGE
       Inspiredpoet ✍️
           ©Inspired
Adeyi gracious mayomikun.
To every being born to this earth; ohh the miracles
Steve Page Nov 2020
The thrill of hope
A hope of promise
Behold the birth
Of joy and solace

The birth of love
A love for life
Behold a child
A born delight
Needed now more than before
Mose Oct 2020
Greif is the shockwave that happens after profound loss.
The tragedy of our story is the ruins we are left to sweep the streets of.
Cobble stone collecting the dust of our previous lives.
These are not the days that lay heavy on our hearts.
It’s the days when the whole city has rebuilt itself.
The street lay paved of memory lanes.
Every stone in the mind still unturned.
The guilt that builds...


You want to feel as the world does.
Look as the city does.
Forget as the people do.
Sara Kellie Nov 2020
Nothing lost is something won
in that awkward moment
between birth and death.

Kaydee
It wasn't meant to be a micro
poem but it just . . .
Michael Luciano Nov 2020
I watched as she was cast out of a bolt from the blue.
A smile on her lips so beautifully askew.
As her feet touched the earth she danced into the light.
Like a drifter in the shadows dashing through the night.
Her eyes can make you smile hips will make you shake.
She is dawn's wishful goddess brought to earth for heaven's sake.
Naked as Godiva through my mind she cut like pain.
Tearing into the warm summer night bold with brazen fangs.
Caught and cast a sail like a ship upon the sea.
She swam in the moonlight sweetly.  while the night did eagerly recede.
Her beauty warms the sunshine filtered through the leaves of trees.
That shade her eyes that have seen infinite eternity.
Maura Oct 2020
They say, the dying are greeted, by their mothers
She comes for them at the end
Her love reaching further than bookends
Loving before, when you’re but an idea
A single cluster of cells,
Pregnantly waiting,
For birth

You came into the world quickly,
Precariously, the way you moved in life
Your pace blazing—light speed  
A glow that burned from the beginning

You were likely, the first person I ever held,
Me being too little to hold onto anything much bigger
But of course I adored you right away,
Right from when I first held you,
You made more than a daughter

You left the world quickly too,
during the month the sun burns the hottest,
August sweeping you into the air.
So I wonder, who came for you?

What I like to imagine,
and most desperately hope,
Is that you were greeted by a softness
A loving net cast by our grandmothers
Rocking you slowly
Pulling you back into our linage
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