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Snehith Kumbla Dec 2017
The island writes
To the shore,
Don't build a bridge...
I want to be a stranger
To the world's end.
From my poem series "letters"
AS Nilsen Dec 2017
on the rainiest day

with his helm in my hand

the motor dropped in the bay

we raced to mainland

the pine needle raindrops

daggers to my eyes

I had to get home

but first pizza pies
IPM Nov 2017
A monumental solemn soul
one golem told an untold legacy.
In need of change
I stay intact.

An island drove all shores
aback.
And the mountain spoke
no more.

The seeds of rage
they sway intact.
Bianca Reyes Nov 2017
I am an island
Like Alcatraz
Abandoned and haunted
People rarely visit
No one ever stays
My conditions are changing
I thrive life and beauty
No longer just to survive
I am an island
Maybe someone will visit
Maybe even stay
Copyright under Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved
Enjoy
Samantha Symonds Oct 2017
Locked by the fingers, but something still runs free.
Stirring up seeds in a place that can't be seen.

Above us the sea sizzles, the sky burns at our feet. I'll hear her voice for centuries.
Taste her lips in every fool I kiss. Breathing malaria into my hips.

For what no man can be she is, sees all, feels all and brushes it under your feet.
Her rust fingers find the zing of metals; from first to fourth mirrors burst, life calcifies.  

There's still sand under my toenails, salt crystals in my eyes. Marooned where too much lives and in the surf I'll lie.
In rock pools, tiny claws dual over colourful crowns
that were sent across the seas from the Gods.
The deadliest of gems sought for in crustacean kingdoms
like power.


Fish hide in bottles and swallow plastic shrimp,
while flotsam and jetsam decorate the shore;
toxic borders.


Albatross, guardian bird of the waters
we stopped looking up to you,
we stopped looking behind us to see if you were following
when we could fly higher, fly faster...
Jet power, metal wings, turbo engine.


Our good omens
Became measured.
Our superstitions
Became statistics.


I cry for all the canaries trapped in coal mines.
While we look for life on Mars
I feel dead on this ship,
but it's still floating, floating...
Written in Autumn 2013
Donielle Oct 2017
He rains down like lightning
and he strikes your sand,
burns your beaches into hardened stone,
and blasts away your vacation,
leaving you with nothing but the memory
of rotting fruit.
Neon Robinson Sep 2017
***
***
Cabin Boy
-------------------------------------
Wondering memories of wild adolescence,
Flash before me like a mental Rolodex
Reverberating daze,
Time cannot take away.
A fifteen–year–old,
Broken neck calypso.
Gazing through the jungle-o window
Unequipped to fathom what was about to happen.

I saw the moon in your eyes,
And knew;
You smile in the way that islands do,
And the zephyrs planned to bring your love back to me, too.

You were everything I imagined.
Sunlight on a dismal day,
The lone palm in the tropic heat,
A boyish grin that made my flowers bloom;
You were the Cabin Boy.
Realizing, all you can be at 23
is yourself.

And I am the wanderer's wandering daughter.
The pretty little minor that come hell or high water,
You broke California law for.

I waited at your f i n g e r
t
i
p
s
Just his little Pisces *******.
Who didn't exist till 1996.

An inevitable source of panic that would rise in his eyes
Every time he kissed,
Her Kona lips.
Until deciding he had to leave,
Claiming island fever, on his way out the back door.

Lost as a half-gone waning moon.  
With only the ocean’s waves continuous roar
Sun burnt, white foam, salt spray,
Condemned - to an inevitable end
Unable to prevail past the break at your soul's cliff edge.

I grab a raft to float;
In the deep waters of the heart.
Somewhere in between the no -
longer & the still -
to-come
Washed upon my soul’s sand.

Reaching out with new green shoots -
Resurrecting the chthonic biome
From deep within the molten core
Till the blocky incline fell away,
And I found myself;
On the surface of a lake of solidified lava.
To the boy that broke my heart.
Neon Robinson Mar 2017
All good things will meet their end.
Even the ocean waves
Returning roar to the shore
Can not prevail past the break
At your soul's cliff edge.
Seema Sep 2017
I am called an angel
I am called a ninja
I wear silver bangles
My color is of ginger

I have doll like eyes
My figure is of a small coke bottle
I hate tales of flying lies
I live in the pacific portal

I smile when I am sad
Tears are always in abundance in me
I have a temper and I do get mad
I am only a human, you see

I love reading and adore writing
But my mouth ain't a word diarrhea
I love silence and scenery sitings
I've been writing for over an year

I am in love with my adorable dogs
Who make my lone day bright
Cloudy yet windy, misty or fogs
I love this weather, as a cold night

My inner me is a mischief child
I am in my early working thirties
My imaginative writing gets wild
I am quite authoritative

I teach info tech, I love my students
Knowledge sharing is my best part
I am intolerable to fake mutants
But, I hate to see them depart

My name is Seema and I am a free writer
With the challenges I face
Each day makes my life brighter
With the blink of time in trace...


©sim
Introduction.
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