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Juhlhaus Jan 2019
Sipping the air of a city night
So heady in the cold
On the move under static lights
Little worlds about
To collide

Gravity frivolity
Draw broken hearts like earth bound stars
As the pull of every
Small storied point holds others back
From abysses beneath
Dark waters

Lone souls each and all
Compose this metropolis
Joy is to be
Discovered in insignificance
Where together
We belong
Three poets walked into a bar. These are some thoughts that emerged.
J Jan 2019
Paint, dribbling into water - each drop, like ink, bleeding into a haze as a home for the thick bristles of a brush.

A canvas, tones of rosy pinks and deep reds - blending like strawberries and cream. Love.

Fingers, chipped paint under its nails - palms splotched.
I started writing and this came out. I don't even paint.
Riley Cartwright Jan 2019
————————————
these stars send light
on missions to bless your
skin
every constellation
every freckle
every moment
is a moment
i want to spend
under the stars
with
you
————————————
Sitting in the car
Waiting for traffic to move
The cold rain tumbling down the window
The drops collide into a single line.
Inside my father and I wait in the warm heat.

We probably just left to get pizza,
Or Chinese food,
A regular Friday night.

The sound of the radio hums softly in the background.
The soft rumbling of the engine.
The drumming of the rain.

Not a word is spoken
between my father and I,
Each of us just ******* up the silence.
Breathing peacefully.

Over the radio comes a song.
A little old, though well known.
Ee-e-e-um-um-a-weh
Wimoweh, wimoweh, wehoweh, wimoweh.

We both know this song.
Grinning we turn the radio up.
Singing along. Dancing along.
Um-um-a-weh.

With each beat of the drum
My father touches the brake.
Quickly, rapidly
Making the car ****.

The car behinds us honks the horn
Making us laugh harder.
My dad persists.
Continuing in this child’s play.

Suddenly it doesn’t matter,
that it is pouring, or
that we are stuck in traffic.
It only matters that we are having fun.

The song ends.
The radio gets turned back down.
We return to our former silent state.
Adam Hever Jan 2019
Joy
Joy is nothing but a fleeting moment.
Alike solar flares, it bursts with power,
then burns with the blinding blaze of hope.
It’s a light which diverts our attention
but then ceases after we’ve been misled.
It gives us a deceiving veil for reality,
a version full of languidly rotting bliss.
And just when we’re about to get used to
this fake, transient “truth” we cling to,
that’s when the torch in our fragile hands
suddenly decides to take its last breath.

We find ourselves in the same void again,
feeling empty and lost, without an aim.
We then desperately start seeking fuel
so that our fire of hope would burn anew.
We grasp everything that comes along,
we just want a source of hope to go on.
We just need a sense of balance in life,
something to make us believe we are fine.
And when we’re in growing utter despair,
our obscuring naivety won’t lead us anywhere.
Poetic T Jan 2019
Loss is a moment remembered,
           but the memory of those live on
       within the moments we remember.

We never forget those
    who where a light within the moments
                                                      of our lives,
even though gone they still shine bright
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