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Aprajita Sep 2016
And the bravest he felt,
When she smiled at him,
Giving him the simplest pleasure,
Which could rival with the God's garden of Eden alone
JGuberman Aug 2016
A book of poems
from a dead poet
living words
that keep on living
remembering a life
that has a ghost of a chance
at redemption
but every word redeems
a little something
of the soul that produced it
and in turn
redeems mine
in this life
where there's no certainty
of a next.
Waiting4TheStop Jul 2016
Heartbeat and breathing erratic.

Mindset; frazzled, like static.



There is never a rhyme or reason. 
My life is just an ever-changing season.


Looping yet broken. Like a record that is scratched.
In my head, the devils plan, will it be hatched?

Or will I be intercepted beforehand. My only warning sign could be the lights and/or sirens, when the men in white coats are dispatched
(C) 2015
Rachel Keating Apr 2016
the only certainty in life is death
the only thing we can be sure of on this earth
from the time of our birth
is that at some point, we will have our last breath

our days are numbered, our clock is ticking
its only a matter of time until time has swept us under
time is running out, so what else in life are we missing
today is almost over but what about tomorrow, i wonder

the life we live is infinitely finite
each event a thread weaved into one
we are all quickly fading, it's almost time to say goodnight
the moon is bright but will we be alive to see the sun?

the only certainty in life is death
the only thing we can be sure of on this earth
lies not within our worth,
but rather the exact moment when we run out of breath
you
born, grow , learn ...
fall ..
get up ...
don’t  understand ..
trust !!
you
water in my desert
light in my darkness ,
hope in may desperation ,
you
peace and serenity
you
my absolute certainty
you
love
you
always with me
you
my life
Mic Mar 2016
"Are you sure about me?"
Am I sure about you?
As sure as I am that I exist!
Each contain seven pictures
Each drawn and quartered
Third easel'd and painted
The fourth merely this world
and if you add together the dis
continents and containments
The Field
lies unplowed beyond each square of pavement
Black hardwood and rainments
Bishoprics and taints
Elementary you say, we'll ain't it quaint
Four Sevens is enough to turn my year ago
Enough is how much they say can fill up just one
Drawer
well add pluralities of empathy
and subtract my ego thats hurting for wealth
and you'd have some Thing like an object which could represent
Well
Health is just environments inside shelves of disorder
They rarely start me in winter fold fall back to summer
and Spring
A gracious step across lilypads
Strafe not for air covers ground patrols sweep
Submariners are the only kind I know not who they are these
Cheats I take for honest
Honest men I could count on my *******
Me and you
Two
Well
One is just a Drawer
On a cabinet
Which I no longer own
and it contains the air inside it
and whatever you put in it
Well I own that too.
Certain certainties needed elaborating to justify my creating
stuck Aug 2015
i used to hate fullstops

i hated the way they ended
stories which i never wanted
to see ending

i hated the way they sit
on the side of a page
thinking that they had the authority
to stop. and restart

i hated the way they didn't signify
a beginning, only an end
and the possibility of things continuing
were never certain

but what was certain,
was it's end

poetry‘s not meant to be certain
it's not meant to close up a story with a single line
or a single rhyme
must less a single dot

but then your life starts spinning
and suddenly you're looking at this tiny dot
and just wishing it could appear in your life
so that your story can finally end.
Lucas Richardson Jul 2015
Certainty is the goal
within a world of simple questions,
but when you add emotion
it invokes quite a tension-
creates a new dimension.
The path toward what is certain
turns to a barely legible section.
Although it may include affection;
what have I forgot to mention?
How 'bout the anger fear and hate
that distorts our every Question?
05/14/14
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