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Heavy Hearted Jun 17
Summon up the courage
keeping up the cover
A Minefield of memory,
I see you uncover
Irrationality implosion -
Energetically, explosion.

Do you really think,
in our realities
that a happiness
love,  might continue?

When emotions are temporary
& feelings too fleeting  
when I announce my selfishness.
as I manipulate.
Better run, better run on home

You got the crush all wrong
Kilie Steel Jun 2
the constant motion of her earth around
my sun
how can she not see that she revolves around me
always in my view
always out of reach

maybe that's why it will never work
i am stuck here
watching you move effortlessly along your path
i am stuck here
seeing everyone else move along with you

a thousand fireflies dance in my molten heart
each light a flicker of my fancy
trying to imitate your carefree dance
but my heart is too warm
and it burns and burns and burns
but no one can see it.
it seems
the blue lights
drift ghostly
past the windows
more often
these days
each occasion
bringing with it
a momentary
fleeting interest
in where
the drama is
currently residing
at who's pillow
might be
through the night
at who's door
fear and anxiety
are being permitted
to step inside
at who's house
has become
a closed film set
waiting to be
stripped of content
until only
walls doors windows
and memories
as commercials end
attention returns
once more
to a stronger
more constant
source of
blue light
and all present
are thankful that
at least
the banshees
that wailing of sirens
has been silenced
in time
Nat Lipstadt Apr 9
they’ve tried to mechanize, machine tool, the kindness business,
since it seems that being kind is no longer intuitive, au naturel,
but you and I can still scratch off the genes rusted shut that
help the elderly who set out to cross the street knowing full well
20 seconds ain’t enough to make over four lanes with a gait that
don’t move giddy up no more, even with a walker or a cane

the city sidewalks are tremulously arrayed with cracks and rough,
mini sized rises, even small hillocks, that we rushabouts rate noticed
until we have been tripped up in a prior excursion in that same spot

a child once ran out of the park onto the avenue, looking distressed,
in a city that’s overloaded with risk and dangerous one doesn’t want to imagine, wife says “something’s wrong,” sure enough a dawdler,
walking home with her dad, looks up and he is not visible; panicked,
who knew that in an a city of millions, where separation is a hell lot wider than five degrees of separation, that she would know my children, and let me walk her home; the father of course, hunting for her in all the wrong places, I walk her home…the mother, semi-stunned, asks how she could ever thank us, was surprised at my answer…”When your husband returns home to confess his misdeed, having lost his child, just greet him without opprobrium and blame,
for he has already punished himself far worse than you ever could…”

it is in the small things that we acknowledge that we are more alike
than not, and we are knotted in a single strand in ways we cannot
always ken, and sometimes, do not want to acknowledge, for this
temple building business is not without risk, but surely it is a structure built of bricks of loving compassion, and essences of goodness, the small kindnesses in our blood cells, that all of us innately possess...
Small Kindnesses

By Danusha Laméris

I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead — you first,” “I like your hat.”
Charlotte Atkins Sep 2022
Sweet, toothache smile, wonky,
Chipped tooth greedy grin, melts my insides.
My name written in your quicksand brain -
Funny how you don't even know me,
But you know the details of my body.

Fill me up with freedom,
Take me away for a night,
Your voice soothes me, breaks me in one.

Fake face to everyone,
A people whisperer, professional charmer.
But I want to see the specks of dust
In your unkept room; the glitter of your life.

I know you would shatter my heart
If I let you, but sometimes my
Mind is weak and still, I think of you,
Of us.

Our explosive, violent storm of passion,
Never a muted moment, just a
Flickering rush of fiery compassion.

But why do I still lie here,
Eyes closed feeling your phantom skin,
Imagining us staring into the night
Holding each other, talking for hours about life,
About your poor mum, and your dad and his new wife.

I trace my fingers on your back,
Hungry for you, all of you,
Not just that infamous fake face,
Hiding a reality too hard to retrace.
midnight sun Aug 2022
time is sand to the gaps through my fingers
air to a drifting feather
a current to the water
it seeps through
it flows
it wipes off
never keeps tracks nor leaves prints
never tangible nor stays still
the closest we can get is a swirl of its moments
the stretched writings of the faint memories
it keeps you on your toes
it leaves you breathless
it never stays as it was
AE May 2022
You sit here on this night, reclining on the moon,  
Sleep inhabiting your eyes but your stubborn heart still beats the rhythm of a thousand days of recollection,
You dwell on the remnants of departed mornings still beaded onto this horizon line,
Dipping your feet into the sunrise, embracing the coolness of the morning wind,
Nothing stands between you and reality;
Flesh is fleeting, it is memories that house the graves of love.
So, you pick flowers to pay your respect, leaving the stagnant solace of this momentary life behind
Mrs Timetable Mar 2022
Made for you
You didn't use it

Can't get it back
Gone forever

Always there...
Is it waiting for itself?

If you find out
Let me know

I need more...
Time you really know how it was spent
AE Feb 2022
Seconds go by in tender bliss
We smell roses and stain our hands with
crushed petals.
Declarations of life long rumination
live between the distance in our
exchanged affirmations.
Happiness opens its undisguised embrace
As the silence between our spoken words
fills the gaps of our stuttered promises.
Rob-bigfoot Dec 2021
Raisin-hued sunsets
Delicious, addictive and fleeting
Cherish the moment!

© Robert Porteus

Seasonal greetings one and all!
Another stab at a haiku. Hope I haven't broken too many rules!
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