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Raven Woodfort Oct 2018
there’s a twinkle
little star
Will my footsteps lead me there?
The world’s spread out before
today,
colourful carpet under
my feet, my say.
I am
the queen of my road,
I choose
the paths I wander...

little star,
twinkle more
I put my young hands
in that light of yours
Sing to me
the map of Life
Show me the trail
I will to live.

- RW. All rights reserved.
First published on Allpoetry.
Jillian Jesser Oct 2018
black coffee
and
the radio
    and I'm still battling
    my demons
shooing them away
        "give me a break, I'm so young"
        I say
They argue amongst themselves
loudly
                                and  come to no decision
black coffee
and
the radio
EP Robles Oct 2018
SOME through the brain
in much Dismay i will say

but my thoughts first
  through my heart --
is how my Life is

governed by Soul
on this and every day

For some a prison
by their thoughts

  whose fears are bars
  and regrets like walls

i say best to greet
mentation through Love
and Spirit first
and foremost of all!

:: 09-26-2018 ::
How we live and process and internalize our thoughts-emotions.
Gale L Mccoy Sep 2018
i am aware
-the decisions i make
-the things i consider
-the time i spend
i am aware of it all
-of the consequences
-of the change
-of the things it'll bring

and i still
walk the line
avoiding the worst
through dumb luck
or just a really
tired guardian spirit

or perhaps others just know
not to let me drag myself
down there with them

i don't think
even for how much
i try to be stupid
that i'm anything less than
relieved
when it just doesn't work out
Emerson Nosreme Sep 2018
Once upon a time

In class
I was told
To write
A story
It was
"A simple task"
As my teacher put it
It should be easy
But
I did not write
Not a word.
Not a letter.
Nothing.
My teacher glared
And everyone stared
My heart pounded
My fists clenched
My teacher asked
For me to stand
And explain myself
To everyone
(But how do you 'explain yourself?')
So I stood up
And explained myself
To everyone
I said
"That is a piece of paper.
It has a story.
One day
It can be used.
Or abused.
Or created into something new.
It can be used for art
To plan something
To inspire someone
To write something evil on
To write something kind on
It has a story."

The end.
This is not a true story
Just based on a book I read
de Negre Sep 2018
perilous are those decisions
you haven't yet made
         afraid of the seed the tree
questions its own validity

inconsequential are those thirty minutes
before a decision
         the wind moves the branches without
the tree's choice

forgiving are those moments
in bed asleep beyond not here
         the tree can't spot failed saplings
without the daylight which lets them grow
quickie #1 is the start of other quickies which may might maybe not probably this is the only one possibly could come quickly soon later now often somber; quick. eeeee
de Negre Sep 2018
singed by acute crossroads
        we are marooned through indecision-
pulling our weight
        trying to lighten the load

we bare it as does the earth
        and the sun lying on its cot
ready to fall beneath the resting place
        the coal of the hearth, warm in rage

our reflections are true in its image
        everything is a mirror
if you are willing to accept what you see.
        our weight falls from pinning

beneath that hibernating skyline
        as the sun turns it's red steel cheek.
the chains binding us to our burdens
        fall with that sleeping illuminator

pulling us to the ground, the dirt
         turned to mud with our spit,
the slime of creation in the eyes
         of the god we have failed.

only once our tounges rest with the rocks
        as the sun does with its cot,
may we (in our eyes) look up to the creator,
        and ask him to break our chain.
a different tone than my other poems, however, enjoy
change
i wanted to change but
i found my soul rearranged instead
pretty soon
i started making bad decisions
repeatedly
i was in over my head
sinning until i accomplished my mission
happiness was the only thing that i was missing
only thing i'm
wishing
for
what are you wishing for?
Jones Ayuwo Sep 2018
As I sat by the window sill
Decked in grey garb
Listening  to adumbrations
And other grey garbage,
My eyes were drawn beyond the room,
Out across an odd sea of serrated roofs
Till I saw,
On a sandy patch of land
Ten boys and a ball.

I sat between my passion and my profession,
Peering out the window of my profession.
I watched engrossed, my passion
Bib around my neck,
Boots upon their feet.

“LD/HCR/.... “
The court clerk cried.

I profess passion for another profession,
I’m not a professional at my passion,
But I can profess my profession passionately!
And so I rise...
“May it please this honourable court...”

And it was ******.
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