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Bekah Halle Jan 13
Down by the Murray River,
where life swims all around;
above and beneath the surface,
in this heat, everything flows.
Beers, BBQs, budgie smugglers and babes in bikinis,
memories bobbing above ground
capturing freedom, post-pandemic and pre-celebrations.

Down by the Murray River,
watching things flow safely and soundly,
birthing new possibilities:
boyfriends, babies, businesses and brews?!
Endless possibilities abound,
prophecies realised; salvation.

Down by the Murray River,
with nature, our souls sing loudly,
simplicity is possible,
trusting and enjoying,
everything is allowed.
Eslam Dabank Jan 10
Forcefully, feed me this love.

No. No need to ask about my consent,
my mood,
whether I'm fine with tasting this reconnection,
whether I desire my suffering to be sweet,
salty, bitter, repulsive;
It is the love that no lover is fed into by choice.

So, ravage my core with your cruelty,
I am content; fleeing holds no allure;
Rip into my bone cage until rats seek refuge within;
until they are disheartened by rain seeping through;
Like was I.

The patient is not faulted for their ailment,
even if they induce it intentionally,
and even then, it is understandable;
For this love acts as both affliction and antidote.

It is a certain drowning, Tick Tock;
I repel rescue; no one need attempt it now;
In the days to come, no one shall be blamed for this choice.

Take me eastward until we reach the west;
There, the sun feels icy;
the breeze, refreshing;
Transport me far beyond the confines of yearning,
The confusion of longing;
Let me encounter your childhood, your aged self, and youth;
Let my wrinkles serve as your rollercoaster;
I'll bear your weight as you frolic;
And there you are; simply laughing.

Incinerate, burn, lose all our maps;
so thoughts of return dare not surface;
until regret looms, yet repentance remains elusive.

We're distanced;
and in this, lies a joy hidden from the eyes of owls;
Beyond the raucous cawing of crows;

Say that I snore;
then depart,
And leave me to harvest wheat from those hills.
She was darting through thoughts
I dart through hers
My brain tied in knots
Kicking with spurs
Her eyes darker than night
A bottle in her hand
Tearing down with words polite
Meaning hidden I understand
Pack of smokes in pocket
A state of misery
Launching like a rocket
No reason I can see
In foggy haze of confusion
Rain quit falling down
Bars closing in conclusion
Remained dimly lit around
Resting back against wall
Bricks of the front of our wet home
Could hear the substances call
In back of her mind to roam
Let in with welcome arms
Turn off lights one by one
It's about how want disarms
Forfeit to them almost none
In a day will return
Finding you the same place
Or someone better takes their turn
Does not matter
Just a different face
She falls asleep eventually
Giving her dreams attention
Call names and she will be
All things you mentioned
Written about my mom when she was still alive :(
Jellyfish Jan 4
I received a lot of praise
For my musical ways
and it caused waves
To crash around my heart-
Their expectations over my art
It ruined my passion
In a "Wonderwall" fashion
Singing over and over again
Into soulless eyes,
Made me feel like a type of prize
It was a lot of work to learn I'm not
I can sing and make music without being bought
I don't play for you anymore because I don't want it to be the only thing you love me for.
KarmaPolice Jan 1
I only asked for your presence
I didn't want to call you again
I didn't expect you to mock me
As I, tried to process my pain

I'm sorry I expressed my sadness
I'm sorry I needed a hand
I didn't want to burden you
I hoped that you'd understand

I'm sorry I battled my demons
I'm sorry I shared my distress
I'm sorry but I was drowning
With Post Traumatic Stress

I didn't expect the silence
I didn't expect the blame
I suffered deep rooted trauma
It seems I brought you shame

I shut myself away
I kept my trauma confined
I watched you all move on
As I was left behind

Time has left a stranger
I'm not the brother you know
In order to help me heal
I had to let you go
Robert Ippaso Dec 2023
Lord show us the way
That we can best celebrate your day,
Should it be fun
For all of us to feel as one?
Or should we be sad
Knowing that we may at times have been a little bad?
May we please drink,
So that into depression we do not now sink,
Aware of course
That too much imbibed turns our chatter into morse.
How about the food,
Or would too much eating be quite rude?
Forget that thought,
As we need consume these lovely things we bought,
Also these folk
Will badly need the victuals for all the
alcohol they soak.
Sorry - now back on track,
Forgive the decorum I so very clearly lack;
But it is a joy
To share this feast with loved ones and on that I shan't be coy,
For while it is your day,
There is one further thing I must now say:
It wouldn't be the same
If we didn't come together in your name.
Thus please forgive any transgression
During what will surely be a long and roudy session,
For we toast but once a year
In the presence of so many we hold dear.
Hence let us raise our glass,
Before yet another Christmas simply pass,
To hail your glorious birth
And such a great excuse for this unbridled mirth.
Jamesb Dec 2023
It's  quiet here now,
The house is at peace,
Doors locked and mostly
The occupants are sleeping,

I am sitting alone on the sofa
Listening as my son
Adjusts upon his airbed
A few feet away,

This may well be
The last time I am here
With both my children,
And that saddens me,

I have a mad mother
A dysfunctional dad,
(At least they are alive)
Yet it seems a lonely life
Is just around the corner,

Not it seems worth the love of
A good woman,
Except that's not true I AM,
Its just you struggle to see

That you do

In  fact

Love

Me
Steve Page Dec 2023
I'm in my grandchild's bedroom.
She's not here yet
so I get to sleep beneath
a floor to ceiling green forest
and within arms reach of shelves of fairytales
buttressed by well-read tigers,
ad I hear Sheer Khan ask me to choose
my character - the grandad I would aspire to be -
A bare necessities Baloo?
Or nearer to a prudent Bagheera?

So I ask myself,
what would Baloo do?
The nursery is just about finished, ready for grandchild #1 next month.
Zywa Dec 2023
The dear family

photo, with a golden edge --


of melancholy.
Poem "Foto" ("Photo", 1980, Herman de Coninck)

Collection "Em Brace"
Jeremy Betts Dec 2023
What you get is not always what you're gonna see
There's a me I choose to let no one see
If you see that me let me be the first to offer up an apology
That's my B side, that's the stranger I gave a ride and once inside it destroyed my family
And quickly
I find myself beyond a solitary sorry
The fix is never near as easy as you plea for it to be
Always aware that my grip on reality was secured by the same guy who's loosing it mentally, the workmanship is shotty
I do know the motions to take though and I go through them awkwardly
Robotically emote what I think is expected, a real time commentary
Going live is scary, that's just reality
I've rehearsed my lines so when I do I blend in seamlessly
Neither are an ability I use to be a mystery, well, not completely
I'd rather no one see behind the privacy shrubbery
It's private property but I never enforced it properly
Good 'ol hindsight, always 20/20
No control on this disorder, examples are aplenty, it'll eventually break free then consume what's left of me
No one believes when I say this is not me
Honestly, I don't put up much proof of the contrary
I do try, but these copy/paste repairs are undone too easily
Woe is me

©2023
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