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lost count on
how many times i have wished for
"a little less pain "
in this life
Lydia Dec 2023
The way I tend to show my love is by making sure we have your favorite snacks in the cabinet and that your pillowcase is always fresh
It’s the little things for me
The little
flower was
safe from
the winds
of the world,
then, the days
sprouted her
body upwards
to the sky,
she found
it tiresome
to grow while
the poet
of the world
painted the
to green,
finally, she
can gently
sing for the
clouds as
life became
greater in
color and
until the
white blanket
of heaven
takes her,
and, she
is reborn
in some
other time
and place.
George Krokos Nov 2023
One may have to sacrifice a lot just to gain only little
and what this will demand would be a big committal.
But when one sacrifices a little and happens to gain a lot
it could be a very fortunate life which that person has got.
From 'The Quatrains' ongoing writings since the early 90's.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2023
The “little” Art I Possess

~writ for, inspired by, and warmly dedicated to
Kelly Rose Saccone~

“So an artist does…They say that often when you fill your walls with art you often forget it’s there and you don't absorb its beauty, but I enjoy what little art I have everyday. Sometimes it is just the color or the passion that hits me anew when I look at them.”


long ago the new~knowledge,
“newlodge” came brewing~infusing me;
art was not capable of being possessed

my reversal~eyes opened
the senses over~fulfilling,
body sensations brimming,

for I was the container,
only in temporary possession!

the art, in whatever the day’s chameleon guise,
is the professor-possessor, I am the missionary~emissary
remaindered by-product,
the vassal~vessel

when to gaze upon a poem~creation of years ago,
my expected mistakes appeared, a wee pride,
largesse of satisfaction, but these are frailties,
weaknesses, human misperceptions,
human ill-delusions!


ever was a poem among my possessions,
it was “in-sighted” within me
what was placed in my cupboard,
stored by my sensual conduits,
mine only to covey, not to covet,

art that tempest resides in as part,
a parcel in of the entirety of your body+soul composition,
but “out for delivery,”
seeded, stored & carry~birthed, given forth,
in a completed quantity
that’s so grand,
it takes five senses to truly comprehend!

it is pieces, a child of you,
you the birth sac,
how could ever be assessed as merely


you are better understood to be a translator,
a temp~progenitor,
taking what all of nature and human experience
has installed on your inner walls, and then dispatched,
by you, gestated and unhesitatingly dispatched,

and when gift unwrapped from the plain brown paper of
our now orphaned belly skin,
it is to be hallelujah greeted,
for you, artist, translator, poem~mother,
have done you job, hallowed and sacrosanct,
and now the renewed giant emptiness,
will soon,
needy to be refilled, and
retransmitted once more:

this is no little, limited, mean feat,
your gifting is
beyond any words that limit,
no size constrains,
no words,
neither sufficient and insufficient,
you, are in loco parentis,
you’ve take what you/we are given,
beyond sizing,
and it seizes and is seized,
until you give it away

and that is the grandest art .
inseminated within you,
true artistry!

Fri Oct 27
Amanda Kay Burke Aug 2023
Is it hard to take?
Caring for one so little
Who craves you so much
I know I gave the world
She is
in the little,
endless hums
of the night,
they are
soft spoken
in the
wind by the
poet’s pen
in stroke of
the fabric of
pages with
written by
hums of the
deep sea
arms of
the cosmos
in a flower
in the eyes
of the one
who have
the dark
to cherish
the light,
in bloom,
she rises
from the
drifted by
the seas of
the moon
to the
she rests,
the tides
until the
sun is in
the earth
stars, the
sleep and
they too, are
Mark Wanless Jul 2023
knock knock whos there bear
is here what you gonna do
little one protect
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