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Jenny Gordon Mar 10
It's so "fun" trying to fit these hugemongous Roman names into iambic pentametre.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCXXIII)


So, read an essay on erm, Virgil, frail
As thinking THAT meant aught, and for pretense
Is't lo, Thucydides, to spose I'd sense,
Petrarca's life in um, a nutshell's scale
Of knowledge, even la, Justinian's tale--
Since haunted by those cobbled streets, and hence,
If not the air of Roman days, fr'intents
Those columned cities sages knew t'avail.
And either that, or Valentines in tour
Have ta'en my spirit from me, til I view
All we had joyed in ere as from as twere
A colder distance, seeing, yet voiceless to
Effect, life upside-down, or mine in poor
Scuse, e'en as April haunts the thought life'd woo.

21Feb19a
Or should we claim "it's so fun to be haunted with lines after midnight!"
Amy Perry Aug 2018
The Word was written,
But my word is spoken
In the silence of the sacred,
In the crash of the ocean.

The Word was written,
But still I fumble
With what to think
To remain humble.

The Word was written,
But how does Nature sing!
And how pretty the lilacs dance
And how awesome bubbles the spring.

The Word was written,
But my mind questions,
Scourges the earth for answers,
Philosopher is my essence.

The Word was written,
But how it nods
To the doubt in me
That there are such gods.
abp 08/25/18
HTR Stevens Jul 2018
A pen, like a poisoned dart,
Dipped in ink aimed at the heart;
Words well chosen from the start,
Is it science or is it art?

A play on words - twist and turn,
Take great care - like fire, can burn;
Tapping into the great Vine,
Your ether is also mine.

Everything, for good or ill,
Has been with us and is still;
Naught itself is good or bad,
But the intention we had.

We feel whatever we think...
Excess takes us to the brink;
Control our thoughts, we will feel
Hearts content, with minds of steel.

Minds and souls are closely linked...
Our hearts change when our minds blink.
Thro’ practice, our minds we train,
What we choose to lose or gain.

Little rituals, little thoughts...
Slowly we think we are gods!
If so, then Justice must rule
With Wisdom learnt not from school.
Lyn-Purcell Jun 2018
I didn't bite the apple, but now I see that
there's a dangerously blurred line
between liberation and
thraldom
Really reflective today...
Again a lil off but fine, I hope. (My head hurts badly, though)
But I'm inspired me to do a project! Two projects but one at a time!
Thanks everyone! ^-^
Be back soon!
Lyn ***
aviisevil Mar 2018
my breath is blue
cold and forgettable
in this dark room
and with my eyes closed
composed of a mind
and all its follies,
that I cannot switch off;

i am lost, yes,
bless'd with a life
i never would have
known otherwise,

of minutes, mountains and
stones, wise men; a home
and sun rise,

here on this rock
me and so many like me
will die, pretending we
never would,

consuming blood and wood
even burning the forest down
'tis his kingdom, filled with
people bad and good,

some mad and filled with
scars and broken days
then there's that who
has no need for a place,
some wear stars and some
wear no face, some are meant
to die, some meant to stay

some go away never to
come back, some find
grey days soothing as they
pass by, some live
in good-byes, and some dye
themselves, some don't cry,

some won't die, and we'd
watch them live forever,
whilst we break our lies,

i live the lies too, yes,
but that's more bless'd, in
this storm of illusion,
outside this dark room
where i bleed away bits of
me, everytime i step out,

loud noises and the clock,
to break me down,

silence louder than words,
empty air for me to drown
trapped in a circle 'round
my neck,

eyes to dream me a crown,
and a mind for the countless
worthless things i've found
gagged and bound,
in the deepest layers
miles deeper than my skin
sinking, and inking my
breath blue.
Mikayla Smith Jul 2017
Children like to pick apart beautiful things and leave them bare,
Simply because the destruction that lies at their fingertips is far beyond compare.
They touch the lilac sky with creation in mind
But they don't know that the light withholding their innocence has slowly died.

As children, we are the petals of a flower, lovely when in bloom
But wilted and numb once the bitterness consumes.
We are left to wonder where our innocence has gone
And we roam until our carefree days are done.

O, the vines embrace our still beating hearts,
Like the thorns that have not released us to the cold world.
I crumble beneath the lilac sky
As these fallen petals swirl.
jdotingham Mar 2016
Just an afterthought for you
Define perfection?
Can you?
I certainly can not.
Another thought for you.
Can God define perfection?
Because if he can, he has just defined Heaven.
But if he can not. He is not God.
Bit of a paradox.
Because God is said to be perfection.
Therefore that makes him heaven.
But God has made mistakes. Surely.
And if he has made a mistake.
Then he is not God. Disproving Heaven.
But if he has not made any mistakes.
He is undefinable.
Also disproving Heaven and God at the same time.
Or can something exist without being defined.
Maybe?
Maybe I thought this out to deeply.
Ashish Nand Mar 2016
Problem
The problem is
We all have a problem
Problems which lasts forvever
The problem with problems
Is that problems come uninvited
But every problem has a solution
Not a different solution to every problem
But one single solution to all problems
And the solution to all problems is
That when you get a problem the next time
Then don’t see the problem as a problem
But see the problem as an event you didn’t see coming
Don’t give a problem a very special treatment
But see the problem as a task you have to carry out anyway
Never let the problem get to your head
But treat the problem as if it is a part of your life
Indeed a problem is not a problem
When you don’t consider it a problem
And just classify it as an ordinary stuff
So always remember that every problem
Has this not-so-problematic solution
And if you are living a life full of problems
Then problems are not just problems
But problems are a part of life that you just have to live
And if reading this entire thing was a problem
Then you’ve just passed a problem without treating it as a
Problem
See it works!
A body like running pavement
and filled with
skidmarks --
broken pictures of sunset sky between trees
power lines--
they fall and rise like waves,
quickly flashing.

A mind like an endless set of highways
there's no map to tell
where anything could end up--
ideas that are
headlights, move with uncontrolled velocity,
bobbing in the darkness, wheels
humming from the engine, throaty engine--
voice that's a radio, projects songs
and thoughts
to the passengers--

it's not a roller coaster, we don't choose to be behind a wheel
but we're all in our vehicles
with horns
and shouting matches and road rage,
swearing, arguing our luck,
gambling the speed limit
to try to get to all our destinations
"on time"
but God only wants you to feel the wind rushing
through your rolled-down windows,
or contemplate on silent journeys, a
seemingly never ending stretch of road,
breathe through the starry summer nights,
sunlight flickering on rooftops,
dirt paths in forests,
trees, lights,
pedestrians,
a hitch hiker,
clouds,
parks,
mountains,
cities,
stoplights,
billboards,
­but all you see is the
pictures fading into a blur--
blurring,
all
blurring,
and sudden--*

                          collision.
don't take it for granted.
F White Nov 2014
I can make my voice strong
but the truth of that falsehood makes my throat burn
I am losing ground

slip-sliding over gravel
boots into wheels and I am back
and that control
is not over you
and it's not over me

it's just lost in space floating
between my pillows
and my quiet thoughts at night

the balm that I hope I can bring by turning off the light does
not quench

sleep does not smooth and
the jolt of decisions overly made
hashed and delayed

has my existence catching itself at the door

I don't want to be human anymore.
copyright fhw, 2014
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