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Lyn-Purcell Aug 2020

Horn of plenty spills
Bread and wine sustains all man
She holds up the torch


New day, new haiku!
Not feeling 100% today...
Such a sad day overall in truth 😔 RIP to Chadwick Boseman, T'Challa of Wakanda. My heart is so broken, my condolences to his family 💔🙏
The coming week Im gonna see a doctor too. I hope that goes well.
Now, for the usual daily haiku!
This one is for Demeter, mother of Persephone, daughter of Kronos and Rhea and Goddess of Agriculture, but also health and marriage as well.

Of course, she is known for being apart of her daughter's myth. She fretted so much when Persephone was taken to the underworld. She was also known to be a grain mother for humans. The horn of plenty aka the cornucopia is one of her symbols as well as the torch hence they are referred in the haiku. The motherly figure who always gives and provides. Its very fitting, isnt it? A light in the darkness. A hope in the fear and dread.

Anyway, thank you all for growing followers, I'm forever humbled and grateful for the support 🙏🌹💜
Here's the link for the growing collection:
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/132853/the-women-of-myth/
Be back tomorrow with another one!
Please take care of yoursels and stay safe! RIP to Chadwick again 😭💔
Much love,
Lyn 💜
Sage Jun 2020
In every truth.
In every lie.
In every help that you provide.

In your lows.
In your highs.
Only your love is what others will realize.
No matter the situation, your brilliance is still there.
LC Apr 2020
underappreciated-
most do not see her beauty -
their dreams pull them away.
some eyes burn from the midnight oil -
to them, she may seem like a hallucination.
others run too quickly to start a conversation.
a rare few wait for her -
they appreciate her beauty,
continuing the conversation in awe.
she does not live for the people of this earth,
but she provides for them no matter what.
#escapril2020 day 1! A little late, but it's here.
John McCafferty Jan 2020
Did I
Provide the cause
With all my flaws
To take ownership
For these faults
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Brian McDonagh Jan 2019
Her mom was one call away;
Even though Christy didn't have her own phone,
She had the number ready to dial.
In the long run, she couldn't make the call
In borrowing access to another's phone.

I lent her my phone...more than one time.

I noticed Christy asking for rides,
A frequent sight
Around Walmart's outdoor campus.
I couldn't take back what I saw,
So I offered to ride her.
Christy rose from neutral emotions
To cheery.
After all, at least she could be inside somewhere
Even in fleeting time.

I drove her...more than one time

After a while, it wasn't "I don't know you"
And "You don't know me."
Not even "Since it's Christmas..."
Could sum this interaction.
Instead, Christy and I eating
McDonald's breakfast burritos
Is the best way I can describe
Our encounter:
A hunger to help,
A hunger to be helped.

I ate those burritos...more than one time
For her sake.
I firmly believe those burritos will not be
Her last supper.

I drove Christy during the day
And under the drapery of night,
One instance with her friend Lisa,
Another moment that ended
With my yelling voice unleashed
Toward Christy's mother.
Then a detour to the Emergency Room,
Good Christy vomiting outside
The passenger door along the road.

Yet, Christy navigated my driving...more than one time.

Christy wasn't a fan of needles,
But grudgingly accepted the IV
That she foresaw in her medical visit.
She succumbed to X-Ray scans,
The blood pressure strap,
And the nocturnal waiting.

"Maybe we should go...you look tired," Christy glared at me.
"I'm fine...I want to see you well first," I urged.
Christy didn't budge at my response...
She signed a release, and we left.

Her lips spun her two lip piercings...more than one time.

"Do I look funny?" Christy asked me at one point.
The best I could say, in order to not just say what she wanted to hear,
Was: "You look how you look."

We looked for hotels for Christy...more than one time.

She was at the Heritage,
But a police incident removed
The lodgers the night of the scene.
Christy was at the Relax,
But the manager was missing a kind heart
And the room had roaches.
We tried the Days Inn.
Beyond our affordability.
Christy settled with the Knights Inn
After mid-knight.

My arguing created another situation:
I thought I saw Christy getting food from someone else.
[My, what assumptions can ruin]
She cried because of my sudden accusation.
Even my immediate turn-around apology
Couldn't mend my errors right then.  

Christy started losing hope that I,
Or we (my mom included),
Couldn't help her; limitation started to take
The upper hand.
Christy, who had suicidal intentions before,
Restored them from the way she carelessly
And degradingly spoke of herself.

"I'm NOT going to the Bethany House!" Christy insisted.
Christy repelled the Bethany House...more than one time.

I drove Christy to my mom's church,
Christy carelessly approving.
A friend of my mom's tried to talk Christy
Into staying on the course of help,
But Christy wanted to just go back to Walmart,
To panhandle.
I understood her desire to do so,
But we could have helped her.

She ran off at Sheetz
With her garbage bag of belongings.
Saying "Christy" multiple times
Made Christy ignore me even more.

We all deserve a chance...more than one time,
But some will want more than one more time.
Not an easy experience, but poetry is the hard-to-accept as well.
Amanda Kay Burke Apr 2018
I based personal judgements on the past
It is a good thing because I was right
You have not changed and you prove it
Each time you hide the truth from my sight

Electrifying distant indifference
Enfolds as extravagant lies come undone
With each passing second our fingers hold
Terrible time unravels another one

Of all your indecent indescretions
That which hurt me the most
Your willingness to cut and conceal
Sad suffering you still host

I do not want to live with deceit
So go if that is all you aim to provide
I hope you pick the choice that is true
I cannot control which future you decide
You think the decision is mine but it was actually yours
Kewayne Wadley Feb 2018
With rough hands, she was the only thing that made them soft.
New experiences protected by their roughness.
The orbit of her body their center.
They kept her safe.
She admired their scars.
Their courage to love as they did.
To properly deflect the asteroids that threatened her orbit.
To hold a fire such as she.
Their standards high, lifting her high above.
An explicable star shooting across the sky.
With hands like a fortress.
They cherished every sunrise of her smile.
For all that she is.
She is blissfully unaware
Ravanna Dee Jan 2017
I'm not looking for a prince charming.
But a man who has callused hands,
a gentle heart,
and a forest fire that's raging in his soul?
He, I wouldn't mind standing beside.
Someone to provide for me, guide me, and stand beside me.
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