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Eric Babsy Oct 6
They are rushing furiously across a danger path.
Trying to escape all foes in stark contrast.
Light brightly shining their path.
Escaping giant demons of wrath.

The day of reckoning is over soon.
Precious are the lives of a chosen few.
Above and beyond the swarm cries too.
Just the fleetest will do.

As they were born above the ground.
Crawling toward an evil and also hopeful sound.
Across the ground these demons pound.
The fault of some they found.

Driving their fleeting heart even more.
Kindly they beg the evil and demons who ignore.
High in the clouds the evil soar.
While the hopeful eyes of many are ready to look toward.

As the demons pass.
Steep trouble will find the many at last.
High above the evil gathers it’s strength fast.
Diving from the sky with speed blast.

Some are plucked from the ground by the evil.
It is feast or famine not to cause an upheaval.
Soon few of the many will be safe in their home that is primeval.
What these fleeting few have been through is unbelievable.
Nyx Sep 30
The bushland calls
Of my childhood dreams
Amongst the wild
My soul it, sings

The gentle breeze
light upon the skin
Sun upon my face
it welcomes me in

To the lands of summers
Though now long gone

Memories of the heats haze
With a white juvenile horse
Within a closed off field it lay
But young and free it was born

Birds flying high above
Shielding the rays of the sky
Perfectly clear a crystal bright blue
Not a single cloud in sight

Fields filled with nothing
But the dirt beneath our feet
Dull patches of green and yellow
Amongst cattle it feeds

A rooster it crows loud
The chooks begin to run
As bruce, a little staffy
Chases them about

Work shed full of tools
Covered by a rusted tin roof
Parked beside it old barrols
And a broken down ute

Stone walls of the house
To keep it cool inside
Spread across the cold floors
A reddish brown cowhide

Worn down leather couch
Out upon the front porch
An eski filled with stubbies
Where the boys had their "talks"

I feel the memories flooding back
This peacefulness, this sense of home
Hours pass by within seconds
Losing myself in the zone

My footsteps have long faded with time
As has my name once carved upon the gumtrees
The white stallion no longer grazes near by
Nor do the same cattle dwell in that field

Worn down by time and way of the land
Though I do intend to return again
To share the beauty of this place
Drawn back by the old fate

The day melts away like the snow
And I hear my parent calling my name
This place will forever be my second home
Because I know here, I'll never be alone
The only place I can feel truly free
Under the hot glaze of the sun
Let me hear
You are fine there

Hope to see again
Genre: Love
Theme: From Ground Zero, A Day In The History
Maxim Keyfman Jun 28
Today yesterday tomorrow  Blasts my head
That friend that girl   blast my head
Today yesterday tomorrow  blast my head
That the holidays that school Blasts my head

Blasts my head
Blasts my head
Blasts my head

Let me be the one you blast me
I'm so tired
I'm so tired

Today yesterday tomorrow  Blasts my head
That friend that girl  blast my head
Today yesterday tomorrow  blast my head
That the holidays that school Blasts my head

Blasts my head
Blasts my head
Blasts my head

Blast my head

Blast my head

Ahh ahh

All over.

Ellison Mar 22
A field of fire rising up to the sky
Ten thousands of people; all will die
Dozens of suns and a giant shockwave
And nobody went to visit my own grave.

Music and life had fallen as well
And imprisoned in a chamber donned by people as “****”
Yet deaf was all real, but the one thing heard
Was the blast in the morning as soft as a bird.

A place where freedom did never exist
A place where war from society was ******
And liberty had left; and peace had too
Inside of the government always undergoing a coup.

Cities had fallen from the bombs up above
Some paradoxical world that once kept me in love
With its ****** of nature, but all that has gone
And poems were buried in the nuclear dawn.

No…no no no no no more
I can’t take this anymore
No more nightmares it’s getting to a point

And my body rocks violently in sleep.
A silhouette cross by
Like a rock star
Metal probe in his back
With alpha heart
Pointed somewhere, and
Trigger a prey

Probably, the last cry
Human, it was.

Fired more metals
Without, excuse to say

I probably,
enjoyed a view
of bloodshed
being a cannibal
waiting for a fest.

It is hard to live
Harder to feel
20-40-90, and more to count
Bang…. Bang….Bang
A fetus got a medal, before his birth
A mute got a medal, no one to hear

I turned my face towards the light
As their life have no input to mine.

Later that night,
I wake up,
before a dawn
a nasty smell of sulfur, over my surround.

Was it my smell, when I was born?
If it is not me, then who cares?

I heard an inner voice,
"Silence is a curse for humanity".
I scream loud,

Low frequency chants from UN, I  heard,

How can,
rest in peace, be help?
Pray is not what, they asked for,
they are calling for help,
Irony, we just pray.
Genre: Free Verse
Theme:A moment to Syria.
Blast was/is /will
Never be

Music of my choice.
Theme: Haiku for Peace. A moment to Syria.
Bomb lives till it blast
Making a live, dead

At the end, it commits suicide.
Genre: Haiku
Note: Against lethal intelligence, call for a peaceful air
Danni Gohemi Jan 2017
I own horses, hence I take photos and write short poems that go with them. The latest  poem I wrote was about the first day of bitter cold air and first snow flakes falling, sticking to my horse's mane:

Oh, no! The Arctic Blast is here
With gusts of wind and chilly air
And tiny flakes of sparkly white
Much to the horse's great delight
Did you know, horses can handle extremely cold weather better than their owners do? Brrr...
Mary K Jul 2016
the days are long and exhausting
but they're a distraction I desperately need
until night falls and I'm left alone
laying, staring at the ceiling
and everything I was sure I pushed away
comes back strong and forceful
and all I can do is hold on and try not to look directly into the blast,
wait for it to be over and wallow in its wake
until it's shockwaves finally succeed in knocking me unconscious,
and the distractions begin again.
even the nightmares are welcome
because they, too, are an escape.
nothing seems as bad as the battles of my mindfield
during every waking moment.
so I welcome the monsters and make them my friend
if nothing but to eat my thoughts
before they destroy my mind.
I have no clue I apologize
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