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Jo Barber Jun 2019
How many hours
spent scribbling these poems?
How many days wasted
rereading them,
nudging and prodding
each word into its proper place
until it all flowed and sounded...

still not quite right.
shamamama Jun 2019
feeling the current
tugging at my sleeves
rocking me from my stasis
turning me into liquid
when i thought
the ground was firm beneath me,
heels feel the crumbling
quaking beneath,
just letting the flow
breathe me into
this next song,
new key,
new rhythm,
new tones,
timber through me
just letting the song merge with my state of being and take me
Ken Pepiton Jun 2019
this is what comes next,
we have learned
to wait for
this.

The world, the environs of me i see,
have changed
or become

other than I imagined in the illusory phaze

visual-real-aural-real-terror-real ah,

no
right no holy terror here, we past that.

title-mebbe Ignorance is a choice, it is vain,
the effing efforting to ig nobel so high a wave as mine.

Rock and roll poets with scientific magi making tools
that obey our virtually

every
whim. Imagine that. We did. What now?
or ance, re ignorance
mebbe

a dance,
a wee twist that tugs us back to unem,

we chuckle. You know, if you have not thought
how happy after right now,
might work if it were your might that makes it work,

then. This is that. In a poem. A poem puddle the flow flowed to.
No joke, life has become very jello-ish in its real-feel here, for a while.
CM Lee May 2019
Most days, I feel alone
Most days, I can feel it in my bones
The way the dark wind blows
It’s like I’m the only one against the flow

I wake up each day in a twilight zone
I look to my left and my right, I’m on my own
But when I look up to the sky, there you’re aglow
Be with me, in this land down below
EmperorOfMine May 2019
Incognito was my game,
until no one could remember my name.

Drama free all of the time,
until lacking attention became a crime.

Crushing on a star in my eyes,
until it came and broke my skies.

Wishing everything was well,
but left alone in a forgotten hell.

Shedding petals pretty in color,
defined in their detail,
make art as they hover..

No tie to each other,
although they're connected,
one moves, all move,
cause they all get affected.

A part of the tree living life as a family.

But some fall and go shedding the tree,
what a tragedy.
To time cometh their woe and to woe comes great wisdom.

Some petals great,
others harsh,
but all are a part of the kingdom.

I held on to the foreshadowed results of a life without fun,
but all it took to change my mind was the warm light kiss that came from the sun.

Sometimes I focus on perpetually inevitable doom,
but often the time that's stolen by the trees,
petals,
and life around me that may bloom.

So if my woes are petals,
then so are my joys,
which some may shift and change,
and sometimes appear coy.

Because life is a place plentiful of joys and woes,
know,
like petals,
what comes will and eventually goes.
Emma May 2019
Red drops and red lips
Open heart and broken bones
Blue skin and no flow
Another art project poem
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