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Maya Jun 6
Who
And in the middle of the night
when your thoughts
comes up
of the darkest and most stormy
to the most sentimental
revealed by your
darker side

Who are you, really?
hiding
behind a mask
lower your guard
reveal your real identity
a little deep
The Company of:
An intelligent friend will nourish your brain.
A loyal friend will safe guard your heart.
A motivated  friend  will fill your life with energy.
A wise friend will show you the way.
A kind friend  will fill your soul with love.
An optimistic friend, will fill your life with hope and inspiration.
A moral friend, will bring a purpose to your life.
A humorous  friend will bring laughter to your days.
A spiritual friend will bring peace to your life.

Hussein Dekmak

Copyright
My co-worker at Beaumont Taylor Hospital '
Karina Sherwin Bloom' had inspired me to write this poem.
Poetoftheway Apr 9
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~ “Above everything else, guard your heart; for it is the source of life's consequences.”~
Proverbs 4:23)

these days, good advice overnight trebles in value,
no one I’m sure has consulted Proverbs today,
not me, not you, not anybody, but these words
came to we, the confined, lonely hearted prisoners, we who

are needy to reflect, we raggedy people in solitary.

tonight, some of us will recall an exodus to free,
an escape from slavery, how we put at risk
our bodies in a sea, a desert, more crazy, in an
invisible deity, when that was a heretical concept, we who

are needy to reflect, we raggedy people in solitary.

Above everything else, guard your heart;
for it is the source of life's consequences,
the ***** above/beyond mouths, eyes, even lungs,
it’s what purposed we fragile, petal edging humans who
are needy to reflect, we raggedy people in solitary.
I miss the way you look at me
When I’m doing nothing but breathing
The way your lips find mine
Under every single red light
The way it takes hours just to say goodnight
When I was too nervous to hold you like I wanted to
Because I was afraid of what it might make me want to do
And I could write about how I’m terrified, because I am
But all I can think about is how happy I feel when you’re holding my hand
How you told me you’d be mine as long as I wanted you
Like you see a day coming when my “I love you” won’t be true
But right now there’s nothing I want more than to kiss you like I’m meant to
To trace your lips with my fingertips, just admiring the view
I want to lay with my head on your chest
Your hands moving over my skin like no one else is in the room
I remember your hair, how it gets red in the summer
And what it looks like dripping wet just out of the shower
You mean a lot to me I hope you know
And I didn’t know what to do with how sad I felt driving home
Knowing you won’t be there and I still won’t see you for a month
Knowing you’re asleep, 953 miles from me
Missing you is exhausting
6.30.2018
Tatiana Mar 31
"How are you doing?"
those words pierced through my coat
bypassing the buttons that I didn't notice were open
until he spoke them
How I froze words intended to warm
into a pointed intrusion meant to warn
me of my icy exterior
It jabbed at my heart like icicles
pressed into the wound that throbbed and pulsed
He maintained eye contact when he asked
and my eyes were wide
with weariness I couldn't truly hide
but I could disguise
"I'm doing well and you?"
I replied to the man holding a stop-sign
my voice pleasant like springtime
when the wind rustled green-leafed trees
during the early sunrise
and the morning doves sang a sweet melody
covering up my shivering heart
"I'm doing good," he said
and nodded his head
in response to my quiet 'thank you'
he waited until I crossed the small street
eyes at my back, tracking my slow, steady steps
and when I got to the other side
I paused for my crossing guard said one more thing
"I hope you have a good day!"
and I said with a smile too bright, "You too,"
and went on my way
marching through the bright, winter day
hoping that this road would just take me away
Just take me away
©Tatiana
Here is a quickly written poem about a terrible decision I made in January of this year. I went for a walk instead of going to work. I went for a walk because I felt if I stopped moving, if I got behind the wheel of a car, I would do something drastic. And during this walk, I had this interaction described in the poem with a crossing guard. A simple, normal conversation. And it hurt so much to have it.
I'm doing a lot better now than I was in January. I started therapy and even did some group therapy as well which was really helpful. For the first time in my life I truly felt understood by others. I could see that people cared.
I'm still struggling a bit. With the pandemic that is going on it has ruined the routine I created for myself so I need to develop a new one. I hope everyone is doing their best to stay healthy and practicing social distancing. We will get through this.
One more thing, I haven't really been posting on here due to the above mental health struggles/getting help for it, but I also haven't been posting because I've been writing poetry. Which sounds odd. What I mean is that I have enough poems to create a collection. So be on the lookout for that in the future and I will give updates as they come.
Stay healthy and safe out there!
-Tatiana
DPAA Hymn for Fallen Soldiers
by Michael R. Burch

Sound the awesome cannons.
Pin medals to each breast.
Attention, honor guard!
Give them a hero’s rest.

Recite their names to the heavens
Till the stars acknowledge their kin.
Then let the land they defended
Gather them in again.

When I learned there’s an American military organization, the DPAA (Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency), that is still finding and bringing home the bodies of soldiers who died serving their country in World War II, after blubbering like a baby, I managed to eke out this poem. Keywords/Tags: Fallen, Soldiers, Heroes, Patriots, POWs, MIAs, Stars, honor, guard, medals, honor, tribute, memorial
TD Mar 18
Sun
catches on mossy greens
claiming the side of an impervious
frame.

A blunt stroke
in a world of extremes
blurring symmetry
with a deliberate slant.

Indifferent to approachable
stalwart to still.

A paint-laden brush
turning unwavering guards
into the most trusted
of confidantes.

I’m drawn to nurse
the errant side
with a gentle hand
to coax a testimony of truth.

A humbled servant once a king.
A dying giant to a ***** friend.

Transformed.

Once a professor of celestial beings
now a hopeful star gazer.

The weathered skin worn
by a fallen age
now at the pleasure
of a wanderer’s intrigue.

A witness.

Standing assured
the immovable
holds his post
to bespeak a worthy tale.

I am hard-put to deny him.

They who reached for heaven
never would achieve it.
Yet in civilian garb
vulnerability laid bare, exposed.

Sentinels become saints,
and I cannot ignore their courage.
Moss is a clue to the environment around a tree. It signals excessive moisture and that the air around the tree is unpolluted—pure. Meanwhile too much moss can cause a tree to become unbalanced “weak” during a wind storm. Just the right amount of moss adds beauty without destruction, a delicate look of vulnerability.
you feel
too much
all the time
every single **** time

and time and time again
you tell yourself
"don’t make that same mistake again"
"don’t give too much again"

and when things don’t work out
you hurt, feel that aching pain
a thousand times more
over and over

and you tried to step back
have one foot out the door
you tried to be ready
but you will never be ready

you locked your heart
so far in a safe box
for the next person
but you end up spilling yourself
all over them like you did
the last time

it’s okay to give
everything
it’s okay to feel
everything
but honey,
guard your heart
and love
with no regret.
i wasn't ready to know you were in love with someone else
DIPTI DHAKUL Nov 2019
I was wearing Screen Guard
to vision your tracks,
to touch those interactive lines,
by escaping those private eyes,
to the hub you belong, 
where blood hearties were
walking on lonely streets
on Tar-Way, 

I was right there
to read to you.
© Feelings Coated
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