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Lost was I,
In the dark streets,
Of this winding city.
Looking over my shoulder,
Searching for landmarks,
Any building I knew.
I was approached by a man,
And I raised my defenses,
But his light demeanor calmed my anxiety.
He spoke to me,
A melodic tune in his voice,
'They call me happiness,
I see you're lost in the dark,
Come with me and let me show you,
Everything you're missing.'
Happiness roams in the darkest cities looking for those in need.
Mina Feb 17
I get excited for another ride
On the bus of life we go
The limit of the view is my sight
The end of the road is death,
Or at least as far as i know

But the colors of the city dried out
They look faint, They're ugly and bold

But how old am i to think that
how many lies I've been told

Since when did my sight go bad
Since when I've lost all hope
Since when did the city go gray
Since when did the sun get old

The bus of life wont wait for me
but i have no reason to go

The colorful city stays bright
But i can't see anything, I can't let go
I'm starting to hate my life day by day
Vianne Lior Feb 10
A cloud hangs low, still,
pressing on the city’s spine—
does it ever breathe?
Poets coming into Rochester,
Welcome to the perfect poetic city!
We're dark in November,
Blinding in May.
Sleepy streets,
Winding roads.
Dinner at a diner,
Welcome to your second home, it's a winner's city for sure.
If you ever come to Rochester I suggest you come in the summer or fall. Stay up late and wake up early, eat at the diners (not the chain ones), visit the pier down at Seabreeze, and make sure to get an air bnb so you can have a backyard fire late into the night.
Everything is normal
so not much to sing or say.
No summer thunderstorm,
the snow was magical only for an hour.

Old men
aren’t removing women’s ******* with removable dentures.
A belly laugh now and then,
an empty belly’s holy.

With simple joy
mortals may forget to fear their deaths.
Simply put,
we do not survive. But what an adventure!

I heard an archangel cry
Don’t hurt the trees!
Also, save democracy.
Also, stop barking, believing in that higher power.

What’s Ken doing today?
Watching TED talk lectures,
planning next Spring’s garden.
It’s Death, not the Jewish king, in your rose garden.

As climates change
species escape predators
and predators chase down prey.
Choose sacrifice or blame.

I look at faces
and they look at mine, mute, animated spirits,
black wet rocks,
victims among flames.

I embrace my anonymity,
lost in my own city,
in the shade of a gazebo,
a mosquito’s acceptance of its position among a million mosquitoes.
Candy colored lights 
twinkle on the horizon.

Distant traffic drones along, 
shimmering rivers in the night.

Millions of souls living lives unseen.
Now drift away inside my dreams.

The Star Voyager returns to the desert.

Solitude rejuvenates my soul.

Yet every time I near serenity,
The world pulls back at me.

The obligations of life,
telling me, it's time to go.

Back to the city, 
Back to those distant lights.

Until I'm just another,
unseen soul. 
Lost and drifting, 
Into the night.
This poem came to me out of nowhere
but as I was writing it, I could only describe it as a sequel
to a poem I wrote called (Desert Sky) which is also posted here on HP.
Thanks for reading.
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4943609/desert-skystar-voyager/
Melanie Jan 19
my romantic loves, traditionally, have not been healthy
wrong, forced, cruel, hurt, anxiety-ridden
a healthy relationship hadn't found me.
but in every other sense, I am surrounded
my friends, my family, my city, loves me
unconditionally, warmly, easily
they make me better and wrap me up
the healthiest, truest love I've ever known
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