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Lunar 2d
I could never count
the three words
for you.

It was always
just one, two, or four.
"Us," "What if,"
And "What could have been."
I don't know how to spell it, but I know how to spell your name.

Claudius May 24
I started working again-
Suddenly I have to remember how to talk to people again.
Do I say "hello" first or do I introduce myself without a greeting?
I need to learn to smile with my eyes instead of my mouth because the mask covers it all night.
So many people are out and I can't help but wonder if those three months were for nothing.
Day 80 and everyone seems to act like they've forgotten what we were all fighting for.
I started a new job and it's the first time I've had to interact with people other than my roommate.
Path Humble Aug 2018
the count starts now (tired of tired)

I read your outcry at 3:00am
posted on Facebook

you are
tired of tired
sick of sick
the only question, will it ever end...

rise this day,  start another way...

count your blessing
count against all odds
for there are more than merely one

use both hands
both hands chested to feel the heart thrusting,
for living is a wondrous blessing unique
an unbelievable to believe than so many beats,
born and borne,
by you, a strength unequaled,
you a richness possessed

count that one first.
count my hands holding your shoulders.
count that as two, one for me, one for you.

more? more.  

mirror.  find the tiny light in each eye against a yellow backdrop.

add two more. for they are a sparking confidence of confirming.

you felt the heart thrumming
go back, feel the breathing warmth breaching forth.
add another. for now known you can never ever be cold.

wash the face, wash away the caution that sleep leaves,
the coverlet of fear that fears you not to dare,
amazing that tap water plain is sacred when it
miracle breaks you out and anoints thy forehead with pure oil like the kings of yore, be a kingly human being.

go out. do not return
until one act of kind is performed and
count that as a thousand blessed, a sum recurring recounted

walk humble and the path will always appear.
walk contented for you can be both king and servant,
there is no difference - you must be both to be the other

and if you still cannot raise the head,
call me.
that would be a blessing for me
and I will hear your blessings sounds mine merge,
dear friend and no more stranger,
that is the simplest definition of our learning to count to
4:00am I read your cry on facebook ph pathhumble
Sovit Pokhrel May 15
A master craftsman,
Well bred and fed,
Counting his days,
Days spent, over Days left.

Days, spent searching a craft.
Days, spent learning the craft.
Days, spent working the craft.
Days, spent perfecting the craft.

A master craftsman,
Well bred and fed,
Counting his days,
Days spent, over days left.

Days, left to live.
Days, left for love.

Days, he spent, drifiting from life.
Days, he has left, too little to go back.
Days, he spent, he wishes, he had more.
Days, he has left, only them,
and nothing more !!!
All our lives we run behind what the society has considered the epitome of success  only to realise that we have completely forgotten to live our lives in the process. Start living before its too late. Spend time with the people you love, tell them how much you love them.
Renn Powell May 9
I’ve swam the seven seas, till I almost drown.
I’ve broken my heart so many times that I finally lost count.
I’ve lost my way somewhere beyond the trees.
If you could help me find it….
I’m looking for peace.
Erian Rose Apr 10
the long road may be far
out of reach
but I count my blessings
a guide home

the setting skies
fall below
but the courage he gives
helps me live

i'm thankful for life
the mystery as it is
chasing dreams
being teenagers in the dark

home may be out of reach
yet in my heart
the miles are no matter
from point a to point b
Nylee Mar 28
Three months down now,
Everything is falling apart.
Poetoftheway Dec 2019
“the simplest definition of our learning to count to infinity”

wrote those words
to a stranger in pain, awful pain,
asking him to count his blessings

now awful pain
no stranger to me

a pain four decades long,
that the surgeon promised was fully excised.

but today was triggered,
chest pain dagger ingredient emergency room

so I am counting for,
but not to,
counting on


when the wounding cannot be recalled,
only a minor scar to struggle from wonder whence
came it from

which is the definition of reaching the
infinity place,

where finite comes to rest
dec 10 2019
I lost the count
For my poems
And I'm losing
All my control
A poem every day.
Masha Yurkevich Nov 2019

we count.

We count likes,
we count follows.

We count steps,
we count calories.

We count minutes,
we count hours.

We count weight,
we count days.

But we don't count what really counts...

the time we spend together.

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