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Daniel Pokorny Jul 2020
We're not just made of love,
We're not just made of despair,
You're not just one broken piece,
You're a unique person,
Made up of multiple pieces,
It's just that, sometimes. Our pieces are put together wrong by others, or by yourself,
But that's okay,
Because we can change the pattern of our pieces, we can change who we are, for the better,
Or for the worse.
It's simply up to you,
On how you change your pieces
I believe that anyone can change their pieces, and change who they are. Even the worst of people.
Nitika Sharma Jul 2020
If you know me
That doesn't mean you own me
Berry Blue Jun 2020
The color of us is so bright.
It has to be everlasting somehow.
Within time and space there has to be an us.
There is no way that your death means an end for us.
We have to meet again.
if there is an afterlife, we’ll meet again
-elixir- Jun 2020
The ocean ahead of me,
with its beasts,
have my knees shaking,
as I try to dive again,
and tame the fear
of oblivion,
One more time.
I woke up…
The darker shades of the clouds became the crux.
The soot sought some soothing.
Mother finally became unease –
She puked at the amount colour she had to recycle.

I woke up…
The silence became more deafening than the cry of a banshee,
Gourmands grew some alternate appetite,
Yokels had become warriors –
The exit of envisaging begot our harangue

I woke up…
The uncoloured divagation vilipended;
The conflation of bonds of the sunk,
With past scars as its bellwether…
The sun finally begot shadows.

I woke up…
Troubadours gave soul to drumlines –
The grind for our nimble, unfed stalwart.
Bisons and kind marched –
The sequel to buried gamut.
Àŧùl Jun 2020
No,
I'm not as faithful as a mutt.

Because dogs shuffle *******,
Just like playboys change beaches.

But yes,
I am as faithful as a swan.

Because time goes awn and awn,
Swans don't desert their partners.
My HP Poem #1863
©Atul Kaushal
Catnip Lily Jun 2020
No one, no one here, no one there, ever.
Uncared for, it felt dark and misty.
All alone, aside seven billion souls.
Needed only when needed, a solitude.
Ring-fenced in an imaginary world of love.
No escape for me to my reality, it hurts.
Kept knocking on the walls, for affection.
Wisely I tethered on, purposely off,  living in a solstice of dream.
A prose about living. Dreams and imaginations play a role in solitude. Anyone can be whatever therein. No one judging you; so play on.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Jun 2020
There is only one Supreme Being. Her/His domain is the infinite Cosmos.

Yet we have on Earth myriad religions all praying to the same Supreme Being, but calling the Supreme Being different names (e.g. God, Allah, etc.), thereby creating artificial religious divisions among humanity that sow discord, even creating wars at times.

Will we ever see the truth and embrace it? If humanity did, the likelihood of Peace on Earth would increase exponentially.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet, a novelist, and a human-rights advocate his entire adult life.
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