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Monica Sep 2
Thousands of feet high
Mind racing
Views of the cloudy skies
Reminds me of my judgement
Connection resembles turbulence,
Things have been so shaky
Rows with three seats
Seems like something has come between us
There’s a limit to the weight we can carry
Too much may result in our plane crashing down
Slowly descending
We’ve reached our destination
Realizing two cannot become one
No tears or sadness
Just a sigh of relief
Was taking a flight to New Orleans that inspired this poem. Views of the clouds so beautiful. Enjoy:)
Kyle Mouat Aug 20
I sit by the fire
And think of all I've known;
While I envy the ground that's dryer,
Than my bleeding heart of stone;

Some days I feel colder,
Than the winter air around me;
And feel the crushing weight of a boulder,
With no way of breaking free;

I no longer have any hope
Of getting out of this on my own;
If only someone would help me cope
So I wouldn't feel so alone;

In the very end,
I know what I truly desire;
Of having a companion,
Who will also sit by the campfire;

I sit by the fire
And stare at the embers;
Thinking of all I desire
On that cold night of December.
A row of empty tables;
Tables set for two,
Two crystal cups, a candle,
Everything but you.

An almost vacant restaurant
An hour from the close
With gentle scraping cutlery
And everything but you -

Oh, what awareness that it brings
Of each person born alone
To live alone,
To die alone,
To wait, and sit and chew.

A row of empty tables,
But I’m filling in the view
And the waiter takes the rest away -
Everything but you.
Occasionally dining out alone is fun, but not all of the time.
Just trying a simple rhyme out.
Aurora Camet Jul 4
You're on your own, nowhere to go.

Where to run, you just don’t know.

Scared, crying and lying to yourself.

Leaving all you love on the shelf.

You’ll be okay, I swear.

Whenever you need me, I’ll be there.

Just call out when you can’t stand.

I’ll be there to hold you hand.

You’ll never be alone.

You can make this world your own.
Darryl M May 5
On broken pavements, I walk.
The unsounding sounded.
Unto you, I come, but pass by.
Further you go, then I turn back.

The sentimental upon my ears,
Just another memento of what I want,
Is being lost in your absence, love too?
What about indecisiveness in your presence?

Which direction am I, on love’s clock?
There goes my blinded love seeking sight from you.

Through the ages of time, love lasts.
Nevertheless, what love hasn’t seen,
Is you and I.
Stephen James Mar 29
I replayed in my mind the events of that night not believing I could have ever lost sight. You see, the objective was clear through the blur of the tears your touch subsided all of my fears. So, as it stands the heat of the moment I let down my guard. Now looking into your face has gotten increasingly hard. This contention sent waves that left a haze in place of where you used to be. Like a tree in an oasis that wilts over time our love thrived on the waters of what was divine...but has since dried. Can we go back to the night of that act that left us both in a position of intense deposition? is there a way to recreate what we once had at stake; this love that had seemed to be both of our fates?
a poem
Tony Tweedy Mar 26
More often an optimist will see the goal, a pessimist the path.
If only we were both.
Perhaps that is why we seek not to journey alone?
Do opposites really attract? Is this what we really mean when we seek out our "other half"?
Today is a bad news day
And, despite the outward folding memories
Seeking a place for themselves,
Probably no time for a Poem. But,

Only ten minutes ago I walked a hillside,
For the first time
Knowing you were gone,
And the wind found me and made me cry.

It is in the voice of the tongue caring lies;
And the quiet whispers which ask the most.
As you always said, Mate, after asking the right question
Life really is just a question of answers.

I miss that memorable night of comic, even cosmic highs,
With some vintage Port and board of cheese,
You took up the Times and said with with throw away ease -
“ Finally, Life As We Know It is over... well, it's no longer in the papers at least”.
Great Pal, raconteur, Folk music enthusiast, and Port drinker. Cheers, Pete!
Arjsha Mar 1
Gone are those birds,
Who visited backyard of my home.
They had spend their days
Here, my mother says.
They flew away, un-announced, off their own.

Gone are those various noises,
That accompanied my plays.
Now no one here for the cheer,
When I’ll face monsters of my fears.
Them, alone, with my stick I slay.

Gone is that stench,
That wandered in the ardent air,
Of the food, ate in haste,
Of nasty things, they waste.
Informed me of their presence around here.

Gone are those from sight,
To some benevolent land.
Here, together beneath the rude sun,
We had so much to done.
They yet not know me as friend.

Gone are those birds,
Only the broken feathers left on ground.
But, before they again pull here in,
I would sew these into wing.
So I'll be with them forever, and fly around.
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