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Martin Boško Apr 30
She took her in her arms and said
"Do you remember how we met?"
"It was autumn and among the leaves
Two strangers with clothes made of fleece
We both desired to get hot drinks
Thirst joined us as a cosmic link
You with me in a line of two
Had no idea what to do
Your eyes wandering, then on a bag
You spotted pins with rainbow flags
You touched my arm, said, 'Is that yours?'
Startled, I said, 'I suppose'
We started talking, you bought us drinks
Oh, blessed be those autumn winds
Because since that day we're not alone
We're immune from the 'holy' stones
Our love acting as a shield
When evil creates battlefields
Your sunshine working as a bliss..."
She was interrupted by her kiss
They smiled, nothing more to say
Just a whisper, "Happy First of May"
May 1st, Day of Love
March has marched in
Half way through the month
It is hot and has brought summer along
The grapes and melons have turned sweetest ripe
The mangoes have arrived too
Raw and green, they are best pickled
Come May
King Alphonso, will be here
From the wild coastal lands
To conquer every heart
For a golden reign
If I tell you, my muse,
how I long for your presence
amid the desert in the crack of dawn —
would you saunter by and stay
until these wounds be in silence
and covered by your unpredictable peace,
will you stay?

My muse, when I write you, no name
no shade, no face — a beauty with only
a mere part of your body in a physical dimension
of my story, with you here, I feel
the sense of belonging
the unknown familiarity,
take a plunge, face the mirror —
I am there, I am there.

You were born in May,
in full moon by the seaside.
You were crying melodies
and the current flow of the waves,
carried you to me, in reality, in dream,
in song, while your face
soft and maiden for what I saw in your eyes.

The past, the future,
how you brought comfort —
while my book stays there, in draft,
in awe of you, my muse.

This is how I celebrate the month of May,
where are you muse?
come and take a look in your creator —
I am here, I am here.
Wrote this for my muse! Hope you'd give this love since it's hearts' day! Bless your pen now and keep writing, writers!
Ken Pepiton Jan 8
Asreal as any mission to mars,

this is earth, we hear you now.
Come in.

And as any vampire fan knows,
the deed
was done.

If your life were
a thread,

here's a knot, hang in there,
keep on truckin'

believe in seagull borne
Celestine prophecy

and pitch Amway.

Think some things never change
and be wrong.
Start over.

What is the meaning of life, if
it is not 42 or 43? Or any whole number.
More entertaining than any thing else I could be doing... the second year lived as a novel, day seven was prickly with plot points... mad chaotic swirls
Iona Roisin Dec 2020
Unthinkingly –
I bucked slack and
sniffed the hardened fat
caked on the seal bone,
of which the sand-clotted texture
had nearly retched me last night,
though by morning my saliva glands
did prickle into slickness,
pooled under-tongue
for it was a dense and ratty meat,
not unlike what he had wrenched from mine.
I clean it with a knife,
Unsensually –
Written May 2020
mark soltero Dec 2020
would you love me
if you lived inside of me
because i hate it here
you’ll never see me
i used to hide
in fragments of myself
often i want to hold back
sometimes i think it’s the only way
to keep you from leaving one day

if so,
we’ll always have may
Gabriel Girault Dec 2020
Picture this,
It’s April, the world is moving forward as you are inside a coffee shop.
You went to be at peace, your home has felt like an enclosure.
Although it is most definitely your home there seems to be something always missing.
So you head to your second home, a coffee shop a few blocks away.
They all know you by name, and the inside jokes you all have fills the store with a warm laughter that can be felt even before anyone opens the door.
You have your bag, within it is two notebooks and a laptop. One notebook for any ideas you want to write down, and the other just in case. You have your laptop, because you said you will write on it, but you end up looking up random thoughts in your head.
You seem to not be able to focus, but that’s fine because you’re having better thoughts then when you were at home.
You spend a few hours there before you pack your bag, you get up, say your goodbyes, you look outside, the rain is pouring.
You remember you didn’t bring a coat, you couldn’t wait to leave the obstacle you call home that you never looked outside at the clouds that loomed overhead.
But in your defense you felt that same feeling for weeks now, the way those dark clouds in the sky look is how you’ve felt for most of your life now.
But as you’re walking out of this coffeeshop, someone stops you and asks why you didn’t bring a coat.
Without thinking nor without a hesitation you say, “I’m wearing one can’t you see.”, and before they can say anything else, “I wear my heart not on my sleeve, I wear it as a coat.”.
They look at you and say, “Hopefully next month I will grow from the concrete”.
V Nov 2020
we are b l i n d
to all the feelings
that take us to the
                unknown ending
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