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A love without life,
A Dead min with no wife,
A world without a spin,
Not a single soul within,
Despair the loss of all it had,
Being lifeless only seems more bad,
No love without life,
Though no days without strife,
Breath in the air,
Love doesn't only take a pair,
For Fawn -- A Devoted Fellow Poet
Benton Scar' Dec 2018
I thought of the idea I couldn't weep
I thought of the idea i couldn't sleep
Late night movies watching creep
Never been a champ at my crib
Loved her and treated her like my rib
Into the throne like a queen
Old songs i sang to my sleep
Tormented enough not for my dream
Thousand opportunities i saw them slip
Into the night the rain falls still
Thunders strikes hard
Turn up my eyes to the dark gay sky and I strain still
Did my exams at the main
Hard day for love I felt the lain
Never greed
But felt the slain
Never promised to love again
Last time caused my manners had my feeds
This ain't the old you knew
But a replica  of whats new..
late night talks
Its a rainny night and thoughts flood like roads from the heavy rain that fell heavy....
All about love and being love back...
Fortune maine Nov 2018

And the pastor said,

"hold your neighbours, look into their eyes

and tell them they won't die in the remaining months of the year."

Turned right

and looked at her (my neighbour),

I felt like going to the pulpit to hug the pastor,

"thank you for giving me a first step."

On a sunny Sunday
Fortune maine Nov 2018

Every time I bump into you,
We exchange greetings

With you kissing the back of my palm
(If only you could read minds)

You will find, I never wanted and still don’t want the kiss there.


I am a woman
I am to keep quiet.
Guys make the move
Nitin Bisht Nov 2018
I glanced at the station from an unclear window,
people oblivious to my existence coming by,
some with full of joy and fantasies,
others with hellos and goodbyes.

While sensing being the only introvert
with my 90's desolated playlist,
she came towards me, with a west to east smile,
settling, asked me to help out with her load.

I bobbed, and,
The earth started to rip away,
I feel the winds of change blowing in my face
I wrote it while travelling in a train
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018

Your soul is the moon after dawn
A vapour who sings of love as well as pain
A delicate blossom that twirls with zephyrs
Fragrant and enriched by the snow's kiss
The geese have fled from iced lakes
long preserved with whispers of old
In the shade of bamboo, my flute is heard,
carried to you by the frost-kissed air
Your soul, a vapour, the moon after dawn
Hear my hymn of peace,
till winters turn to fawn

My head's still in the clouds! ^-^
I'm trying SO HARD not to freak out about my media course interview...
Lyn ***
Katelyn Billat Jul 2018
I was making my way down
The highway,
Cornfields on both sides of me.
The moon shined even though
It was still day time.
The sky was a light lavender shade
That oozed into a faded blue
Twilight, you could say.
I caught a glimpse of a doe
And her baby
Walking through the endless field.
My mind wandered.
Where did they come from?
Perhaps they came from
Deep in the woods,
Where the birds sang
And the creek bubbles,
The sun seeps through the trees.
Perhaps all the animals got along,
Or maybe,
They came from an open field,
Maybe they had a family,
A buck, a herd,
Possibly even a few more fawns.
Maybe something drove them from there.
Maybe a gun,
Maybe a predator,
Maybe weather.
My mind wandered more,
Where were they going?
Were they looking for somewhere safe?
Or were they only trying to survive?
I wished I could see more of their journey.
I wanted to root them on.
Keep living!
Keep fighting!
Where ever you're off to, keep going!
Then the moment passed,
They were long out of my sight.
I hope they are still alright.
I hope they were alright.
XPY Apr 2018
in that dark room
Of shadowed histories

the Snake smiles,
and raises a glass-
the Blood on his hands
dripping onto clean cloth.

the Sparrow watches on;
Caged in her own regret.
her face is a blank Mask.

the Fawn gazes across a
would-be bright future.
trees and grasses Glow
With promise and dreams.

THEY run the World.
the rest of -us- suffer through;
raised by Hope,
cut down by Snakes.
Inspired by “The Last Day in the Old Home” by Robert Braithwaite Martineau, 1862
© KMH 2018
Arnauld Jarvis Feb 2018
A knife swims in the eery air
bursting down
smearing the few fawn
crooked'em crotales
springing drops of meltdown sun
God hollows
and shadow balloting follows
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