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Zywa Apr 24
If you understand

me, and then forget my words,

we can start talking.
Philosopher and poet Zhuang Zhou (China, 369-286)

Collection "Inmost"
Zywa Apr 1
It wasn't meant like that,

actually what you think --

I have never said.
"Heb ik dat gezegd?" ("Did I say that?", 2021, Froukje Veenstra)

Collection "Over"
Zywa Mar 8
Listen to my voice,

do not bury my poems --

in any dead book.
"De hoofdstad" / "The capital", 2016, Ghayath Almadhoun)

Collection "Human excess"
My Dear Poet Apr 11
I am the quietest whisper
crying out from
the loudest chamber of my heart
My Dear Poet Jan 23
Come, sit beside me
Grab a chair, a stool, a couch
Bring coffee and conversation
we’ll slump, chill and slouch
It matters not on how you sit
nor on, what you sit on as well
As long as you come in peace
with things to share and tell
It’s of little concern what you look like
or the accent that you leak
as long as you make a good coffee
and we listen when each speak
on a matter of personal opinion
maybe another point of view
So let’s enjoy each others perspective
and feel free to express them too
Does it seem like a hundred thoughts a minute,
Often race through your mind, often worried about,
Getting somewhere on time?
Doubting, your thoughts, some things you do,
Thinking others are watching and wondering about you?
Feeling, like your body is running a fast race inside,
Uncontrollable, as if riding a scary carnival ride?
Speaking before others finish, what they have to say,
Or thinking of something else, as if they were in the way?
Taking time to criticize, what others say or do, only quick,
Complements, or positive statements, come from you?
When talking to others, often telling them what you think,
They should say or do, It's an insult if they do it to you?
If any of these rings a bell in your mind, you’re not alone,
Millions are the same, in this life, this time!

The Original: Tom Maxwell © 10/28/2006 AD
Revised 1/7/2022 AD
Wrote in 2006 some things never change...
Tøast Jan 1
We sit on the edge of conversation
Hands clasped, feet shuffling anxiously
Eyes darting across the room like
the stars in the night sky
You lean back with a sigh
and I catch you.

Hands together, knees bent
fingers touching skin
Tracing outlines of mountains on the map you offer me
You look up from my gaze and a calmness falls across your face
The corner of our eyes don't wonder but meet
Times entangled in the feast before us
I raise a leg and your knee greets my feet.

Waters greet these feet,
Waters that rage on and under us
Washing over our bodies like the light that’s wrapped itself beside us
Bodies become one in the heat of the den that we've made
In the depts we've paid
The depths we've obeyed
The trust we've displayed

Down by the rivers where the whomping willow weeps,
where the waters run ramped, and the wild things wonder
wonder about life, wonder about death
run through your mind son, be absent, be bold
just don’t forget that the water man reaps
reaps in what is sown, sold and told

whispered. whispered like silence on the edge of the wind
the wind that howls through the corner of beauty
there where it stays and sits for a while,
as the man, he stands, waiting watching on duty.
I look back to you, your face changed by the cut of a smile.

A smile.
That smile, that warms my soul like summer breeze,
Wraps me up and takes me in from the cold
You don't even realise, you do it with such ease
You do it now when we're young and you'll do it when we're old.

We sit, once again, as we used to, but more alone
Hands together, fingers crossed, in utter isolation
It’s such a wild thing, wild life that we’ve known
And none of it is ripe for an explanation.

Feet dancing on the edge of contemplation
This information that we use for the source of our meditation
Imagination sparks conversation but also speculation
So, what are we to do when there’s no confirmation?
A shout shuddering in the darkness of creation
Thinking of the combination, representation and motivation for these words when all I ever wanted was a simple conversation.
ScaryGary Oct 2021

**** you!

Why was I "born into this"?
Sorry, I thought it was going to be longer

There is no doubt that he was a gifted man that lived and died for a reason. Maybe the reason is becoming clearer to some, and not important to others. Such is life.
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