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Sarangi Nov 2023
Final Verse

Apologies, my love,
I find the strength no more,
Perhaps in a life, reborn anew,
We'll dance with fate once more.

Promises of a pain-free love,
Yet you wound me, ever so.
Perhaps without intent, or conscious thought,
Yet the hurt continues to grow.

My heart, it throes in agony,
A weight too immense to bear,
Feels like the world collapsed upon my chest,
I find no solace, no air.

A farewell, we must bid,
Apologies, once more,
The pain, it's overwhelming,
Breath escapes me, evermore.

You were right, my love,
Changes, they were in me,
Expectations, hopes, and dreams,
Perhaps a glimmer of possibility.

Forgot I did, my own self,
The origins of our tale,
So, let this be our final verse,
A toast to us, a love that's frail.

The intimacy, a symphony,
Never before such pleasure found,
The gifts you showered, no less than treasures,
After him, only in you, such generosity was found.

Memories, a cocktail of emotions,
A farewell, we must declare,
A toast to us, to all we shared,
In this drink, our stories pair.

I shall drink for us, my love,
After your game, you do the same,
Celebrate the love that was,
In joy, in pain, in game.

The best man, indeed you were,
In my life's unwritten tale,
Gratitude, from the depths of my heart,
In this final verse, our love's detail.
For the man where I found happiness….have to bid farewell…
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2023
~My portrait was painted by Jackson *******~


there are no lines or lies in my writings
there are no definitions and perception is only your truth.
my poems are splats and drips, you make them into paintings that hang in your own private museum,
but signed by me as first passenger


when did I write these words?

can’t recall, though undated,
they seem all too familiar, and thinking that if I didn’t,
I should have…
for the title of this ‘poem painting’ has lain in quietude,
a resident in my file of
“someday writs, awaiting,”
when the itch demands you will
the admixture of words and swords
that will cut a newborn reciprocity of thee and me,
an unbound bind that ties and frees us
from and by our shared senses…

today, an  inadvertent blinding sunlight stumble is demanding a
fulsome scratching


the portrait of each is the irrational intersectional of splats and drips,
each viewer, reader, filters the image through a common
which is as it should be,
for if we are each created in His image,
how glorious is the diversity of our deities,
each of us a tiny drop of paint on a tableau
of a small planet, insignificant but
uniquely beautiful intelligent species of godlike creatures,



the précis of this conundrum conversation bewilders,
a single word drops,
of plaint, paint, blood,
a seconds blush blurred
that is the building blocks of imagery
I state is mine,
but now realizations swiftly fertilize,
the portrait is not of me,
but of me blended into thee,
and this poem,
is our composition

that hangs in each of our primary
newly re-titled,
**A Passenger, Realized
Sept 13, 2023

sunlight direct in a tall building blocks away sneaks into my room,
blinding me into awareness
babygirl45 Aug 2023
I love you son
Like no one else
Only you and I
Verified love personified
Every single
Moment I'm with
You, I feel that love
Sensing you feel it too
Only a mother's love
Nourishes your soul
i love you buddy an i miss you to you will be back with mommy son
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2023
Lay My Body Down

Sunday sipping my Hawaiian java,
the world’s end is hallmarked this weekend,
like hash marks on a old fashioned
wood ruler,
and unrequested and unbequested,
heady voices demand a retelling,
even a tallied
of 2023
the year I almost blew it.

took some pics, even a video,
of my-internals, and pronounced me
nearer my god than thee,
I was precisely, scientifically,
97% almost dead,
said the occultist
said see you tomorrow
for a haircut and a nip and tuck
upon thy heart

I was of good cheer,
not fully comprehending my walk on the edge,
never gave it too much thought,
which for a poet,
is just plain weird.

But this Sunday,
as I lay my body down,
thinking about “deadlines,”
all missed,
and are all still, cursing me,
residuals of 2022 & 2023,
which are carry on baggage
for the next trip through the
door of

and these words come jumbled and
we are out of time to sort
them better than this,
as I lay this body down,
one last time,
on the ruler’s edges edge,
the last hash mark nearly touched,
and almost
equidistant from this year and the
unmeasured blankness of a clean white sheet
of Next!


a good ole saying, a good ole lyric,
“lay my body down”
invokes image of spring water
a brook wash~flowing
over the shell of man
clothed in white linen shroud,

water of clarity crystalline,
taking a tour~trip with an itinerary
of (must-see!) sights,
cracks and crevices,
slats, slots and slits,
apertures and orifices,
groans and worry lines
accumulated this nearby past,
my body’s own poem


but I recall W.H. Auden’s words
about the revitalization quality of water,
and I decide to
baptize myself,
like recommissioning, retrofitting
an-old ship

(though I am a serious jew,
who knows nothing of this rite)

But fortunate seemed that

Day because of my dream, and enlightened,

And dearer,


than ever your voice as if
Glad—though goodness knows why—to run with the human race,
Wishing, I thought, the least of men their
Figures of splendor, their holy places.


in some places, you can follow the dotted lines,
on my physical container;
man-made marks from
exploration of my body,
now understanding these lines and holes
are a schoolboy’s
long division’s remainder,
(always annoying)
bits & pieces of him,
looking for a surety that one can
yet call it home,
one more year?

my interstices,
tween the manmade decorations
of medical foreplay
and the cri de coeur
of my mental anguish,
are life reminders,
I am
alive and still hurting,

could be worse.

Aug 22 11:44pm/Dec.31, 9:50am
Joel Johny Aug 2023
With pen in hand, I conjure worlds unseen,
From thin air, I summon stories pristine,
In this extradimensional tapestry untold,
My creations emerge as a sight to behold.

Through writing, my creativity blooms,
An artist's haven where imagination looms,
Through ink and paper, I breathe life anew,
Giving birth to worlds, both old and true.

In shadows' embrace, my past remains,
A 26-year journey laced with stains,
From childhood's depths, where trauma seeped,
A shattered soul, its wounds still steeped.

Through poetry's lens, I'll paint my tale,
In words that pierce, where sorrows prevail,
With each verse, a cathartic release,
A glimpse into wounds that never cease.

Through metaphors, I'll navigate the pain,
Unravelling scars, like cracks in the pane,
Yet, through it all, a flicker of hope,
A flame that dances, a resilient scope.

Through poetry's embrace, I'll heal the scar,
Transforming anguish into art bizarre,
For in Hammerspace, I shall reside,
A wounded poet, finding solace inside.
Written an original poem after a long time. Lemme know what's your takeaway from this
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2023
My Woman, My Partner

we need today it seems identifiers moreover,
as we slice, dissect, and categorize the W’s of our
individual experience,
by defining ourselves as pieces of categories

Today, woke with this title-to-be-poem in my head,
My Woman, My Partner

I like particular, individuating descriptors that distinguish
rather than categorize, summary’s that capture the
roomy broad and small strokes, the subtleties of capturing~
encompassing an image total, and yet intuitively tasting and
comprehending the depths and flavoring of our totality,
a combinatory humanity

my choice was My Woman, which was comprehensive
and distinguished, yet upon consultation with said person,
for pre-authorization approval, it was returned to me with
an engine-heart additive, that was both a word that denotes a
binding, ties, equality, and takes it to another, even ever
highest level,

this essay on how I came to title this poem, well, is the poem
in its entirety, it is the process, the point, the summary and the
minutiae of all I wished to convey.

Sunday Aug 13 8:03 AM
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2023
early daylight across my face sweeping,
gingerly ginger-yellow heated by the low-
risen sun, it confirms what my beating heart
yet signals, granted us, a new twenty and four,

but no more,

for certainty is not a human condition, so we cover
our eyes, not from the sun-rays, but in deference and
thankfulness and  gratitude, that we have one more chance
to the world distribute, blessed human loving kindness, unique,
the greatest gift most excellent we human possess to give away freely!

Jewely 23, Twenty Twenty Three
onlylovepoetry May 2023
Save My Soul, (But First), Rub My Feet

thus a poem auditorialy conceived,
the sexuality of the deceiving dualities,
irritates erogenous, exogenous perceptiveties,
plethora of intensifying variables, a not-serious,
harmless remark yet bring us to myriad of
marauding reversals, add-venturing into harm’s way…

much to discuss, but this
topic bettered by much
trading of traditional bantering
brevity bettering our wordless battering
insinuating, sensational signals bring
us backwards & forwards
to an exploratorium of wide boulevards

back to new unfamiliar venues,
narrowing alleyways & places we were before,
places before we were before where,
no unnecessary commas to separate,
distingué, distinct
tween the instinct of old and new,
an uncommon commonality experiential revisionism

now I understand what you said to me,
a tenderizing of
the sole synapses directing
the brain, the old ooh ‘s, aah’s
reigniting what what lay dormant,
at long last,
by opening doors to alternations,
ven diagram of digressing yet intersecting
old & new pathways,
from the souls of her feet,
to, too, two,
we become diamond
on souls of our heat
Tue May 30
4:42 PM
Goddess Rue May 2023
I’m still stuck in time,
Petals glued in the air,
Flowers unfazed in this orchard of mine,
Butterflies are still as I stare,
I wish I could hit rewind,
What I crave to feel frozen there,
Somewhere now unkind,
My orchard now a stranger.
A place where I grew,
A place where I left,
A place where I long to go back to,
A place where I can't go back to.
Yes I got all your texts.
And I’m guarded, expecting your next.
Yes I’m fine!
But how would you know?
Frozen in time,
don’t know how to respond.
Okay fine -
You got me, just like you always do.
I’m losing my mind,
I guess I’m not fine at all.
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