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Raz Jorden Jun 2019
You knock at my mind
And I won’t let you enter
You circle my silhouette
Slip in through the shadow
behind the heart chakra
Is that where you hide
Where I find the chains of you
And so I had this key
You remember it
Ah, you still have it
Swept under bridges,
You store it
Kept quiet until later
When it’s all over
And time doesn’t matter
When nothing else matters
That is where we exist
Forever entangled,
In the mess of our intentions
Never re-entering
Only remembering
Secretly within
the echoes of our mind
Lonely and waiting for admittance
Raz Jorden Apr 2020
I gave you my wings but you let me fly
Wishing wells forever echo our sound
With painted feathers of lost memory
I sweep silent my old bones from the ground
Bhill Apr 2020
the answers are not ready to be heard
questions from the ancients are still spinning
twisting, turning, swirling and churning
drifting in and out of the minds that maintain the stamina
having substantial durability throughout timeless echos
stories, of the stories, passed on with no conclusions
the answers are not ready to be heard
not yet

Brian Hill - 2020 # 104
Wait for the answers...
Nicholas Feb 2020
Your desperation
reeks
so much that you can
smell it in your bed
and you can hear it
in your head.
Sometimes you’d like to
fill it with
lead
so that you’ll really
be in your bed
where you can still
hear her voice
as it
echoes
in your head
like it did in the
valley.
annh Feb 2020
A single feather falls
- down to earth -
through filtered light and liquid forest air,
landing softly in the palm of my hand,
a silver teardrop, a song, a memory;
the echo of a startled kererū.

E koekoe te tūī, e ketekete te kākā, e kūkū te kererū.
Not back - just visiting. Miss y’all!
Have just started Te Reo Māori classes. The last line translates as: ‘The tūi chatters, the parrot gabbles, the wood pigeon coos.’
Vic Feb 2020
I feel empty.
Like a wishing well
Without an echo
A poem every day.
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