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Jim Davis Aug 21
Amigos,
What are we
doing here anyway
Are we seriously
going to write
some poetry
to save the world
Or not so seriously
to save ourselves
Either way
Let’s get to it

©  2019 Jim Davis
Just a late night rambling!
Ruhee Jul 8
Dear lovely
Poet, Poetess,

Words & papers
That belongs to you,

Ink & pen
That's made for you,

You write what you love
We read what you write,

Your experience writes
& our love reads,

You are born a consolidator
To all broken souls here,

Miraculous is you
& Miracle are your words,

Go On with your fabulous fingertips that inks
Countless inspirational papers
Even when pen doesn't ink..


Fathima Ruhee
Parched lips sip at the rejoice of true love
Sheltering unto the embarks of greatness;
A beautiful journey- oblivious to heartbreak.
Intrigued by gleamy eyes, wet from crying-
Tears for hoax love,
The heart shatters at the sight of each tear drop
One kiss my dear and all pain shall go away.
There was something about the way he smiled
The way his body flexed with each move,
O how divine!
But it wasn't just his body i liked, it was his soul
Or atleast that's what i thought too.
Took me long to know of his deceitful facade;
And his false love
He was not what he claimed to be
He was but a monster in disguise, a true depiction of what we call a casanova.
Sally S Ali Apr 22
Your chaotic laugh
arranges my disorders
adjusts my serotonin level
regulates my heart rate

So start with a smile
and see
how this cure happens
wave by wave

Watch me
Bloom and shine
this time
Sally S. Ali
Margot Apr 9
They want to have you in their pictures,
And squeeze your fingers, thin like guitar strings
To play the lead role in the poet’s scriptures
And fit your chest gap like Saturn does its rings.

They will throw sugar in your tea;
Invent a sweet nickname to call you by.
Eventually they’ll tear off your neck the key
While renting space under your amber sky.

On Halloween they’ll party at the railway station
Tell me, are there any lonely ghosts to foster?
Watch spooky souls fill up the autumnal duration
I bet it’s fun to parent one shy fluffy monster

It must be staggering to see you so devout
To thoughts you sow and songs you reap.
How many romances does one write out
To finish songs that lull my heart to sleep?

That crystal ball in ******’s hand..
I wonder what it’s for?
Is it an import from Red Planet where only dreamers land?
If so, how many smuggled feelings does it store?

I know, I will some day recycle
This dream of mine, a poet’s wish
Into a new desire, say, for a brand new unicycle
And once I get it, I’ll go search for a goldfish.

I’ll pick an urban goldfish from the pond,
And hand it to a girl, smiling with glee
It’ll grant her any wish due to our special bond,  Pray she won’t waste it on a music deity, like me!
To a fellow poet Tom Ogden from “Blossoms”, who loves amber skies.
Margot Apr 8
Two friends, two lively runaways
Skin tinted light bulb white-
A vague starched contrast to pistachio Mays

So many tides of turquoise fears
Lave rooted feet in flight unseen thus far  
In moon parade resulted earthly years
Few never landing kites are brushed against a shooting star

Wait! Now listen. There he comes.
Vein lianas pierce his pale wrists-
Pan plants steps on earthy lumps -
This straying soul the aging still resists

You may spot him in a forest
Leaving seasoned feral brae
With some berries wild in August,
Sweetening strangers' welcomed stay

"Have you seen my Darling, boys?
She wears ribbons in her hair
Darns old lovely teddy toys
Pray this life to her is fair."

"No, but say the author tells the truth
Lives your Wendy in a city
And her children know the sooth
They are little, yet so gritty"

Peter smiled :"Well, then I will bring them all
They'll attend the fairies' ball!
Now close your eyes and let us fall
If muffled in a fairy dust no harm will ever you befall

Onward, over a forgotten cave
Peter's flute in silence lays
Upward for a foggy cradle crave
Three flying figures in ablaze
A series called “Once Upon a Time” and two creative YouTubers Sam&Colby were my inspiration for this one. #onwardandupward
Jude Quinn Mar 28
Hey, little poetess
can you share a line with me?
My poem feels broken and empty
and I do believe you have what I need.

You have been swirling in my mind
ever since you came into the room
with your pale hands splattered with ink,
and your emerald eyes
which look as if they've seen a thousand nights,
and your soft voice
which takes me on a trip
to undiscovered places in my soul.

I'm ready to go anywhere
the smoke of your cigarette takes me.
My heart has been unknowingly still,
but you've shown me how its beating should feel.

How could I put pen to paper
before we ever met?
Sasha Raven Feb 2
"Have You ever noticed, that in the words a poem - Poe(m), a poet - Poe(t), poetry - Poe(try), a poetess - Poe(tess) is hidden the last name of the mighty poet and writer Edgar Allan Poe? So, He has to be the greatest master of poetry?" - ©Copyright: Sasha Raven
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