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My Dear Poet Feb 2022
There are jailbirds who dig holes
to secure an escape

There are gardeners who shape holes
to plant a treescape

There are pirates that make holes
to bury a chest

There are gravediggers who fill holes
to lay souls to rest

There are thieves that drive holes
into banks kept shut

just like lovers (like you)
that leave a hole in my heart
clmathew Oct 2021
~I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.

—Portia Nelson, "Autobiography in Five Short Chapters"

My own four experiences with holes
written October 5th, 2021

I walk down a road
I fall into a hole
This happens a few times
I stop walking down roads.

I get tired of being stuck in one place
I decide to try again.
I walk down a road
A different road than before
I know holes can happen
I keep my eyes on my feet
Just in case.

I walk down roads
I carefully keep a list
of roads with holes
It is always in my mind
Is this a safe road?
Will it be safe today?

I walk down a road with a friend
I forget to check if it's a safe road
We are talking and laughing
Then I realize
This is that very first road
the one with that big hole.

Did we not notice and walk around it?
Did we float over it?
Is the hole gone?
Will it come back?

So many questions.
All I really know is
I am grateful for
the moments of not worrying about holes
while laughing with a friend.
The outline of the original poem was in the back of my mind. All I remembered was the holes and eventually going around them. I wrote mine and then read the original. The original is pretty wonderful. I love analogies and this one just suited me for some of my experiences with ptsd triggers.
SophiaAtlas Aug 2021
You like stars?
Those are the little holes poked in the container so we can breathe.
Trojan Aug 2021
Teach them holes are for hiding
And they'll hide
They'll hide and cower
Cower and cry

Once danger strikes
In their holes - they'll hide
Crying, pleading
Hoping it'll pass them by

Teach them holes are for hiding
And don't expect them to fight
When danger strikes
And they're stuck in their pits

August, 2021
Rama Krsna Jul 2021
riding his cosmic bull
the cosmic dancer
rattles his cosmic drum.....

only a serpent around his neck
as his cosmic garland,
he silently ponders.....

is it time yet for cosmic dissolution?

cosmic dust from that annihilation
to be worn as a cosmic emblem on his forehead,
sending a stark reminder
that the cosmos and all the games played within,
are his and his alone

© 2021
Parker Vance Feb 2021
There are holes in my brain          and I shovel words to bury
                                       that emptiness

I look for laughter                                          that's not my own

I search my hometown graveyard
                     the spaces of your affection

I'm flipping through the oldest books
                     ******* in the autumn air;

I cannot find the thing                                                  I lost

There are holes in my brain but I kept you,

                    perhaps a different way of craving
Grey Nov 2020
Sixty red balloons
Seeping air through barely-patched holes
Falling from the sky.
Inspired by 99 Luftballons by Nena (99 Red Balloons is the English version).
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