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PMc Sep 6
Huh - some hero
a broken man of broken dreams
found crawling from the ditch dredged by strangers
while his own ruination, a physical half-shell
emotional snakes and ladders

Ever courageous through – always the light-hearted of the herd
not quite nerdy but an intellect (of sorts)
a man of letters
sometimes “too many notes”

Poured from the gravy boat of left-overs
the wannabe saviour swims to rescue the damsel
whom he knows will know better
she’s seen his ilk before
all shining armour, will tarnish given time
those cathedral etchings from years gone by
with the sunlight shining from his mouth
spouting poetry from centuries past
nary an original thought will develop from what’s left
of his imagination
dulled by realities of daily news

The saviour has pledged allegiance
an honour to truth both unspoken and said
a respect for taking turns
to laugh, cry or feel nothing sometimes

The damsel knows he can’t make up his mind
about much at all.  

If he can’t save his own life – how the hell will
he ever pretend to prop hers

Huh – some hero.
When we look in the mirror some days - it doesn't shine as brightly as it does on others.  Not a dullness but - reality (?)
KJ Reed Aug 29
When there is a snake
stuck upon your roses,
hiding under strawberries,
hissing tales of thorns and rot,
cast out the snake
before burning your Eden
to the ground.
A reminder for times when people put down your work. Don't let them take what makes you happy. Get rid of their ability to affect you.
Pictures fade from wondering minds
Left to what is a distant memory

Once a happy moment now blurred
With the passing of time

I want to remember
The feeling of those days

Now dissolving into nothing
Just as images on a screen
Not that I haven't said this before
But recently, I've felt the need to say it more
My emotions are running deep, like a river
That treads off course, and images are cutting me
Like paper cuts that make the insides of my skin
Sting of soreness

A fortress of imagination
Broken down in a moment's instant
I feel almighty, on top of a mountain's point
But like a pencil sharpened too loose
I break, falling off this high-rise
And feeling my moment lose its momentum
A totem that has stopped spinning
As I lose control into the waves
Of another current, down below

Its purpose?

To slow me down
But how would I know...?
I'm just another moment
That has turned upside down
With only places left to fall
And nowhere left to go.
This poem marks one of the first times in my experiences writing poetry, that it's been the starting piece of a sequence of poems to follow. That said, it still has a life of its own, as each poem does. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading.
Silver Jul 24
i wish we were all just constellations

strung up in the dark with
silver strands we
imagine,
holding us together (in a frame of hope).


for every star you pluck out of the night,
an image forms

in the shape of who you want me to be.

(& i can be your Polaris,
lead you to the truth.)
life in bloom beyond a dream
one of fairest things I've seen
Allesha Eman May 17
I see the stars dancing in the navy blues.
The ones that colour you when you’re asleep,
and I relish in the madness of the silent nights,
that keep me locked away from tranquillity.

So, I watch as the moon lights its guiding paths,
as it raises fences in the shape of a tide.
The universe holds you sound asleep,
as you dream on of the morning light.

When you’re awake, and the mountains glow,
follow the colours of the sunrise,
And find me waiting with a handful of dreams.
Hoping to find the world in your eyes.

For when I cannot sleep at night,
I take your restlessness from your mind.
When your eyes start to drift into a pool of black,
just know I’ll be painting the universe while you sleep.

I’ll take your thoughts and make them my dreams,
so that when you’re awake, all you will see is:
mountains surrounded by an ethereal glow,
Remnants of the moon still waving goodbye,
The glowing colours of a thousand morning suns,
Leaves dancing with the unforgiving wind,
Trees swaying to the sound of your heartbeat,
And the stars resting in the palm of my hands,



When you find this mural and wonder how,
Just know my muse was your miraculous glow,
and that I’ll be somewhere across the sea,
painting the universe in your dreams.
Mark Wanless Apr 25
Garl april, 25, 19

The time of his death was
unknown of course

Garl walked the perimeter sticks
wooden spear at the ready

Garl saw more than he thought
therefore the world of the cave walls

His dreams were to amazing
images of other worlds
so beautiful so strange

All were their dreams at night
but the samans put them on the walls

An act of great courage  due respect

In his dreams Garl saw himself
on the walls   at first with fear
later with desire

The samans were also hunters

The hunt was a strong image to have

Garl was out with the hunters
he saw the hunt    he saw his
image on the cave walls

He went forward to the mammoth

He is now seen on the cave wall
   by thousands

The time of his death is unknown
of course
garl a fore speek of mark
C James Mar 7
"Hide in here."

I shut the shelter,
securing my sister

within the hanging
fabric shells,

shrouding her
in my protection.

The first bomb erupts,
shattering peace into pieces

of cheap glass,
coating the floor

like ice on a bridge. Danger,
bridge freezes before road.

Mom begins to wail,
but the siren signals too late

to escape the collision:
His words—Her heart.

And I will never fear
Sticks and Stones.

Instead, I will fear
Words. Disgustful

syllables strung together
to guillotine my mind.

I wish it had been me
sealed inside the shelter.

"Dad is home."
Feedback always appreciated, whether public or private.
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