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Maura Oct 2020
They come to claim the carcasses
whispering sweetly underground
tentacles returning energy back to the earth
******* and spitting
pumping their wisdom into the dirt

Swaying slowly craning their heads towards the sun
These humble creatures in clusters dot the wooded bog
their work mostly undetected to human eyes
speaking in ancient languages and casting spells
carefully tending the land,
keeping the peace

mushroom mediums
between the living and the dead
pulsing with fungal renewal
holding the power
of natures neural network  
a vast information of knowledge  
unknown
If only I could know what the mushrooms know
Alex Scaife Aug 2020
So cold. I can't go on. I can't.
I tread well worn snow,
Retracing my steps, hoping to go back
To the time green grass littered the ground.

I can't go on. Not forwards.
Unknown. Unknown. I can't go on.
Not without my Mother.
Not in the shadow of my Father.

I must go on. A spectre
On a black horse tracks me, waiting.
Wants me to fall, scavenge me.
Take my body, pour dirt on it.

Give me strength. False or true
To take the steps that I must.
Like Moses in the desert,
I can't go on. I can't go on.

I'll go on
Nick Calvert May 2020
Rats! As usual, far too late.
I wish I'd found you at an earlier date.
I should have stumbled by years ago,
but I'd not yet discovered Medium, so, it seems it was not to be.
Poets Unlimited, R.I.P.
...and so I found Hello Poetry.
Orchid T Aspen Dec 2019
I drag his
lungs
into a
loose blackness.
い い い い
They crumple
at the margins
as I bloat them
full of dust.
い い い い
I wash water on them
so that they
settle
like ink.
い い い い
His lungs can
breathe
on my paper,
unbroken.
James Rives Jun 2019
hiding behind false bravado
and an epoch of shame
twists uncertainty,
anger, and stubbornness.
this wasn't going to be a long
one but it was there to say hello.
Elizz May 2019
Out doors
Forboden shored
Pacific mist

Graceful fits

Exhale
Inhale
Deflate
Inflate

Entwined intellects
Heart of spades
Hollowed haze

Can't find the end of this maze
Cryptic graves
O forgotten staves

Twirled canes
lawless days
Forgotten Czars

Cross scattered scars
Everything, is fine,
it is. Fine,
If I have that again, it will, make me sick
It will always get stuck in my throat,
I would choke. Sick,
that I don't need, Don't eat.
leave it out? Totally.
Someone might see,
know, help, me? Getting worse.
Help myself. Normality,
keeping things usual. Work.
Pull myself together? get over it, don't be silly:
That's not helpful,
don’t say anything.
What's happening? I've never passed out before.
You in my head will you explain
What to do, yes you; I'm losing,
help me?
see things I'm missing. Ignore.
Remember being sick ? I don't want that, leave,
I Need food to keep the same.
Not. Change.
Food others have makes me feel unwell. Don't eat.
I. Tremble, consider, stare, UNABLE TO EAT MEALS,
Eat: with everyone, sit, quiet, be slow,
as much as possible, I will leave.
At least I tried. To observing eyes. I did well?
Touch leave, take leave tremble, later, maybe. No.
Don't want to, yet: need to think,
what I'm going to have? where I'm going to eat?
you can tell me, yes, no.? Safe food list, alters,
becomes not safe. It has changed, different cold.
Leave it. If it's not the same, colour, shape, smell,
not safe, Wait. It's on the list. Avoid it, the date is old,
milkshake
best.
In therapy, I speak, I listen, you unravel.
Best?
help me? keep to timetable? Its achievable.
What has really happened.?
Avoid? Try? Listen. Try, try
Is it fine?,  me  trying, still worried, concerned.

Not what you thought
(ARFID)  Michael C Crowder  September 2018
Words and observations of a two year continuing battle happening to someone I love very much
It took a long time to get a correct diagnosis, most people suspected Anorexia which is so different from ARFID.
Through voracious eyes devotees, peruse writings, clever literature all styled to thoughtful poetic ways
eloquently, exposing wounds of body and soul, discovered distrust, anger much regret, sadly even fear,
thereto shortcomings in life, of people, their actions, loves and lies promulgated in illuminating phrase.
Technology endows contributors with outlets for venting suchlike occasions using artistry is here.

Passionate poignant experiences most well written, some not are duly shared to attracted communal eyes.
declarations of 'I have cared so much I'm wounded mortally', some bask in lost or unrequited loves last kiss,
several employ inner strength 'whatever happened, I don't care, I'm resilient, I survive', shared with poetic pride
concise verses rework obvious reminders, may motivate suggestion that opportunity shouldn't be missed.

Modest words abundantly profound begin remarks that reassures, with the - I'm here for yous'- symbolic embrace,
in support it is written, 'I know what you mean' and from a great distance - empathise, but I have little to say.
Health issues aren't fixed by artistic pennings, only face to face professional advice forms the strongest base,
Writings from the poetic inner self  may become positive steps, for futures not, staring in depressions face.

Much is written with sensitivity oft-times is judged by content, overlooked is why and how it is composed.
For instance suicide  educes fear however. dubiety invites, is it fiction or truly despair?
Writing as an art observes, describes, creates imagery, of sadness and joy, escapism, fictional or no.
Poetic creators who web-wide commune through stories, thoughts, secrets, ideas, dreams, let the poetry be shared .




Poetry www    Michael C Crowder 12th  January 2019 @scorsby
my thoughts about poetry its content and writing skill
McDonald tsiie Jan 2019
when i saw you
i turned a blind eye
you were talking i listened
my ears anxious, craving sound

i think you have beautiful voice in accordance of your intriguing appearance the day had to be embraced with a hug

holding your hand became a sacred dialect that made sense
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