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Lane O Sep 8
Brimming with passion
Lush valley of sweet nectar
I drink from your stream
A poet or not
Others judge
Her death
Lit a light inside
Healing the soul
Vomitting venom
Drinking nectar
Call poems
Or otherwise
A poet or not
Others decide!
Lane O Jul 4
A cup of tea
Sits alone on the table.
It speaks to me, consoles,
And tells me all sorts of fables.
I sip its nectar,
Amber and sweet;
Warms me from my head,
Down to my feet.
The thunder roars outside.
The heavens frigid deluge;
Sipping rays of sunshine
My warm refuge.
Eyes wander,
The sky’s still gray.
I close my eyes,
I shut off the day.
J Mathew Jun 22
At 3 am I sit on my couch
Placing my head between my knees and slouch,
Waiting for my phone to reach 100
But thousands of memories are reverting in my head.

I think, ponder and contemplate
Couldn't get any answers straight.
All the bemuse have covered me up,
So full that I feel now it's enough.

I asked myself a simple question
Am i doing something wrong?
My brain says you are very right
But my heart says you're on the wrong side.

I move forward to the window
And waiting for the sun to show.
But thoughts do not leave me alone
Made me feel like I'm just a drone
Doing nothing but just mating is not for me,
I'm to collect nectar even while I'm in a spree.

Then I woke up from everything,
I have confused myself in just a blink.
All I think about is past and future but not the present
I stop and say I'll live and cherish every moment.        
                                                By J Mathew
This is my second poem which I wrote at 3 a. m while I was thinking about the meaning of life
Amer Pelides May 19
A dream of a thousand years,
Comes once in a lifetime and with it brings hope,
The sourness of existence has little taste,
But a well-placed wish can make all the difference,
This world in all its tragedy can make us feel weak,
A laugh with our friends and family helps all,
Is my place in such merriment secure?
I'm drawn to my dreams like a bee to the nectar,
An infinite rush of ever-changing thoughts.
Lemon pores resemble those of human
Moon shaped skin
Thick nectar imbued beneath
This sweet cage holds back unearthly turbulence
Milky tint softens my worlds permeated with many
A crescent shell contains numerous people
Do not grasp for
The sun-eyed
Laura May 3
Light seldom graces me with her presence. That used to tear me apart. Now, I have learned to appreciate her absence. I sit, perched on my plush cushion. Bluejays sit on my windowsill. Their wings are resting and my eyes are gleaming. How beautiful it is to watch a sentient being recover, rejuvenate. I’ll never tell you that knowing you set me free. All the things in life that are terrible now amaze me. My ears laugh at the sounds the bluejays have gifted me. They are so happy. Sipping the sweet, crimson nectar. Filling them with life and substance. I am writing again. My voice is different now. I used to be locked in your cell. Now, I turn to the light. The bluejays and I share a commonality: nectar is there for enjoyment, not necessity.
Marri Apr 23
My eyes close gently
Like butterflies finding peace.

My breathing is soft
Like the winds that move music.

On my back,
Covered with duvet,
I come alive.

Don’t you hear it?
The call to an ancient rhythm?

I start to dance.

My eyes clench shut
Like doors to an argument.

My breathing picks up pace
Like the smoke of heat in winter.

On my back,
Covered with sweat,
I come alive.

The dance begins:
It starts at my toes.

Clenching, curling,
Pirouette Princess.

Moves up my thighs,
Shaking, sliding,
Shimmy salsa.

My hands join in,
They create foreign mundras.

Massaging circles into soft flowers.
I’m blooming all over again.

The rhythm picks up pace,
The drum beats vibrations into my existence.

The process repeats,
Pirouette toes,
Salsa thighs,
And flowers blooming from fingertips.

This time,

My eyelids play movies I’ve never seen,
My breath hitches in my throat,
I’m coming alive.

I feel everything all at once.

My head starts to spin,
The good kind of dizzy.

On my back,
Lifting up,
Soul leaving body in unspoken essence,
I’m coming undone.

In a estranged voice I’ve never known,
Your name leaves my parted lips.

The music stops,
The dance is complete,
And the petals wilt.

Fingertips sticky with nectar.
Or is it pollen?

Doesn’t matter—
It still tastes sweet.
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