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morningdew Nov 2024
Laughs die
Lives end
Tears dry out

Minds waver
Bones crumble
Bodies disappear

Eyes close
Dream stop
Longings fade away

The end I hear,
A piercing cry
Shadows come near
Death's shadow coming near
Roxy Nov 2024
Born in a cyber age
of this global disruption,
"What's your hobby?", - you'll ask.
I'll reply:
"Self-destruction."
Debra Lea Ryan Nov 2024
I've grown tired
Of words flooding my mind
That I struggle to explain
The emotional storm
Keeps lingering on
Where thoughts get in the way

I guess its kind of strange
Thinking out aloud
What I choose not to face
I know I'll be okay
Because there is hope
Beyond my haze

Maybe I need to scream
I don't like this  scene
And I want to run away
Or maybe I need to accept
There will always be something
I'll never ever change

I guess its kind of strange
Thinking out aloud
What I choose not to face
I know I'll be okay
Because (you know) there is hope
Beyond my haze

© Debra Lea Ryan
23.11.2024
☀♥ƸӜƷ✿♬
The Words in Song too @ You Tube >  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJvokPKFFhU < Thank You Hello Poetry Friends x Love Stuffs/Hugs, Debs
neth jones Nov 2024
the older i am met                                                      
the bolder the thatch-work of scabbing        
walls are thrown up in front of new ideas
and i am redirected       

the resinous connective issues  of the brain
     mineralization of thought
told and taught knots of gristle                                     
                    ­               enforced from childhood    they surface

i remember how things 'ought be'
the ways my parents parents  parented me
              the lessons recrystallize
cold hard classroom rosin develops       
 held in robust bond   well sold ideas are solid now 
                                         and they defy challenge

but challenge  i must insist        
                    as i resist  into reclining years
and fight this cementing form                               
founded on the dead corrective tissue
that is welcomed   by aging
The Old Versions

2

mineralization of thought
told and taught knots of grit
enforced from childhood lessons
recrystalize
rock formation of age [1st line ?]
a true thing to fight againgst on the way out
null to humanity
you can only persist as a red flag

9

correctional facility / 02/11/23


the older i am met
the bolder the thatch-work of scabbing
the resinous connective issues of the brain
thoughts solidify and defy challenge
cold hard classroom rosin
held in bond together
fighting sense and change
Mark Wanless Nov 2024
create a picture
in your mind that is wisdom
you are halfway there
Sam S Nov 2024
Alone with thoughts that spin and bind,
Prisoner of an anxious mind.
Worried of change, afraid to start,
Seeking a match to calm the heart.

For all we long for is someone near,
To build us up, to make things clear—
A shared embrace, a bond that’s true,
To lift each other and see it through.

For bonds can heal, but wounds remain,
A tender dance of joy and pain.
Yet through the storm, we rise, we find,
A peace within the restless mind.
prim' Nov 2024
Demons fight in the wilderness wide
They attack you from behind
And I loved to fool myself
About sparring with them

Truth lies with the moss
Covering the sword that never saw a fight
After I fled to hide behind the field
Where far further I yield

There sits rocks that plays the part of walls
protecting and sheltering me
My back down on a callous mattress
My eyes up on a clouded night

This is where I lie
About not fighting it's demon
Zywa Nov 2024
It is arduous

to carry him, he's heavy --


with his phantom limb.
Novel "De leesclub" ("The reading club", 2010, Renate Dorrestein), chapter Ten

Collection "Old sore"
Kenshō Nov 2024
I sped to the temple.
Breaking human laws,
to align with universal ones.

I approached.
As my brow lowered,
grace entered my being.

Sunlight greeted me.
As I slowly passed
A stone Buddha.

No one was around.
Monks must be out.
Only a bird sat and sang
to all the flowers.
~
As I entered the main hall,
the wood creaked beneath me,
And my awareness became acute.

The large Buddha towered
over a myriad of empty zafus.
All in accordance and order.

I sat, emulating the statue.
Even my temporal imperfections
matched the stone carvings.
Yet, my mind was with the bird.

I stretched out my legs,
toward the wall,
after a long sit.
The flowers were still after a breeze
And that bird had flown away.
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