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Ashlyn Rimsky Dec 2019
it is sixty degrees
the sun on your skin

you have nowhere to be
and everywhere to go

not a cloud in the sky,
not a bump in the road

just this moment
just this sliver of heaven

just your feet on the pedals
your eyes on the horizon

unspoken joy, an effortless smile
wheels turning forward motion
Sombro Feb 2019
If paradise had a name
A prism of the tongue
I would speak it to you, and hear
The tinkling laughter that bless'd the air

And clouds would hear my poem
And spread it through the rain
And eager faces turned to the spring
Would feel my words also

Chuckles showered 'cross the green

Sunny minds would face each other
And grinning, speak the words of meaning
What charmed thoughts would dot the village squares,
And sighing fields of this land

You'd bring that be
A conduit of mercy
A funnel of good will
What wonderful eyes you have that
Look into the skies with me
Megan Apr 2018
It could be the ***
or the sun
because it's hot

It could be the beer
or the wind
because it's loud in my ear

It could be the night
or the moon
because it's nature's right

That I feel this way
With you

and I don't care because
whatever we do
I'll be able to do whatever
with you
bored in love is a random collection of my own day to day thoughts on my own relationship
You asked me why all my poems are sad
Why they can never be happy
And I looked at you and said I don't know
But you know what the day you left
You were getting your happy poem
I was in the middle of it
So to answer your question
Happy doesn't last long enough to get a poem
I get glimpses of happiness
But never enough to form words
You see a poem takes time
It has to brew inside of you for a long time
Now the happy poem is just
Broken pieces of something that could be
Now its words drips with sadness
Drip Drip Drip
Like the blood down my wrist
Nicole Dawn May 2015
The world is a dark
And dangerous place.
And it sometimes feels,
Like there is no escape.

You need a reason to smile,
Or put a grin on another's face.
So I challenge you,
To write a happy poem.

About your very best friend,
How life is worth living.
About hope and morning light,
Whatever makes you smile.

You need a reason to smile,
Or put a grin on another's face.
So I challenge you,
To write a happy poem,
Sometimes I need to be reminded to write about happy things, so I just put this out here.
SySy Mar 2015
As great as they were,
I am too.
You are.  We are.
Realisation of truth.

Fore-fathers and great-mothers,
Lives infinite in pages,
parting for us their conquests,
from all historic ages.
Battles of brute, battles of soul.
Stories of warmth and  stories of cold.

I see them now,
coming from the corners of every earthly crevesse,
they come in their millions,
where human life is bound perfectly
like the threads of a dress.

He who has devoted, he who has fought.
She who has mothered, she who has taught.
He who had not a roof, not an apple, not a home,
he sang music.
She who had comfort, had books, had health,
she rode horses.
They, who have left us their stories in billions,
their unimaginable challenges to their greatest triumphs,
I can feel them now.

As I meditate through  clouds
of metamorphic memories of distant
and current lives alike,
I start to envisage an ocean of quests indicipherable in quantity.
So many things happen,
so many an absurdity.

But that which is the beauty of 'the absurd' ,
is also its curse.
Defining the roads of our lives,
as it plays with our fate.
The notion 'absurd' depicting the occurance of anything can happen to anyone,
at anytime,
regardless of what is on your plate.

Man, woman, adult, child, good, evil, all similar.

Breathing the same air,
Living under the same atmospheric roof,
Even after we are gone,

We are one.
Wake up
SySy Mar 2015
I was born into a nation,
therefore my nationality is theirs.

But my parents originate from across the world,
And so my origin is theirs.

More importantly though,
All of our souls have the same home,
Till death,
from birth,
We've resided on Earth.
Chloe Jan 2015
you find me
hauntingly beautiful
on the days
i feel the
i wish i could
share the moments
you love me
the most
Chloe Dec 2014
Head of a bold pen
writing on a whim
with no deadline
Paper and lines
in front of your eyes
all of the time

**Creating this life
Chloe Dec 2014
Blessed that I received rest
that some do not acquire
My toes curling on each fuzzy stair step I make my way up
as my nose follows the familiar scent of coffee beans
I'm drowsy from the dawn sun playing coy
Snug as I could be from the burning wood
the little things <3
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