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Nicole Apr 2021
He was known for a puzzling idée fixe
for literature in an array of topics;
Not a citizen of particular themes.
Given to a pursuit of this literary ENTERPRISE,
he would hermit away and ravenously read,
which left him with a pale VISAGE.
He'd dealt with comments of its PERNICIOUS effects,
putting a BLEMISH on his social standing.
Yet, it didn't DAMPEN his spirit.
He didn't shy from upgrading to a learned man.
A mixture of books granted him entrance to
TRAVERSE an ever transforming road,
for which weather had no dampener on.
He was a SENTRY of his own mind,  
following the ASTRAL bodies in the night sky,
to channel knowledge into dreams.
Wrote this for a poetry contest last year. Had to include the words: dampen, blemish, pernicious, traverse, sentry, visage, astral, enterprise The poem won 3rd place.
Ashlyn Yoshida Apr 2021
Please notice what I've done
My pride is hurting from the things that
I spent hours on
Instead the ones I barely think of
are liked more above the rest
In fact the ones I barely think on
to me are just grotesque
See what I can really do
'A river is a thought of defiance
A flower the hated love between the two'
See what I can say, draw, and write
What I hear and know
Please tell me that you love them and me
Please do not let me go
Nicole Mar 2021
In a garden filled by inky night
she reads by fairy firelight
with dreams of magic and of cheer,
in a land when fantasy draws near.

Where unicorns flutter in mid-air,
and fairies shimmer with stardust hair.
Dragons twirl brazenly in a silky clouded sky,
while knights suited on horseback stoutly ride by.

Grinning trolls armored with riddles creep
to divert from their overgrown castle's keep.
The moon princess softly trills a serenade,
and frolics in an open cornflower filled glade.

Flaxen mermaids with encrusted combs of stone
sit on tufts of a verdant seaweed throne
whispering tales of prized treasures aglow
buried deep beneath in the sea below.

Stars blanket in the velvet overhead
as she sits and savors the legends read.
The sights found in writings all retold
are worth more to her than pirate's gold.
Brett Mar 2021
As I step slowly off the edge
My thoughts descend
To an endless field colored many shades of red
There’s a woman
Standing still
The sun-bathing her ocean-colored dress
She speaks with her eyes, but
I am deaf to her thoughts
Though I feel she hears mine
Her face, I cannot recognize
Yet her scent radiates
Of sunflowers and the freeing smell of pine
She motions forward
As our fingers interlace like vines
The sun sits stoic, its throne upon the sky
I am led on
Through places I remember as a child
This world seems manifested
Forgotten moments
Excavated from some locked door in the dungeons of my mind
As if the beating of my heart was painted
On a canvas frozen forever in this time
She glances over her exposed shoulder
Something stirs
As we approach a river that screams De-Nile
Anxiously I approach the banks
Her emerald eyes illuminate
The perfect crooked symmetry
Of her calming smile
Her lips hover just one step away from mine
But I move no closer
For I know hers is not a love
That I am ever meant to find
Just a passing dream
Written for the thousandth time
Ken Pepiton Mar 2021
The event, perhaps
advent, first ever any thing,
where nothing had  been, not a thought.

I think.
Then, when nothing was over
and everything we know now
began, light
was not the first thing, the idea was.
Be for
Yes.
Word one. Hmmmmm or um or am
it may have been, I heard from
a transcribbled  myth or a legend as old as any
meme-level memory mortals have
made-up from remaining
tidbits taught to any next gen thing.
Look.
Assume light is as fast as the expansion,
couple of Planksecs,
and it is at the edge of ever,
never before,
never busting beyond the bubble we be in,
the physical middle of ever,
continuous now,
nothing to stop us imagining we,

disagree, now, after all's been said and done,
and things run on, re
de if-ing chaos as the mindless undoing force itself,
ever teaching any mind co-operation
in time… swirling beauty in bands of invisible
galaxies, barely seen, even now, we
see what we are told we see,
enhanced
and expanded to
original intent, at the scale of precision, which
now requires of those who wish
to know truth in the entirety,
faith in the wits who invented the lenses
we imagine we see through into ever
………..
This day began this way. Everything already,
readable, as it were, once, with us,
before our story folded,
and refolded and bent to allow
mass enlightenment I deal with now
knowledge, knowns known more
than I may think or ask,
available on our distant viewing apparatchik
network of nova sensorium newest of equations
that balance at perfectly predictable
infinity.
Live and learn, do the math.
Or wait to see somethings never mattered
up to now, and now, you know,
you did, some how. That's good.
___ so, Whatever's next is too late to stop. That's good, too. Using all of Dirac that I can swallow, infinity is a valid answer, that we cannot honestly see beyond, despite the suggestion Buzz Lightyear offers for after Pinocchio.
Carl D'Souza Feb 2021
I write poetry
to express
my joyful and happy feelings,
and so I can feel joy and happiness
when I read my poem,
and so others can feel joy and happiness
when they read my poem.
Yousra Amatullah Feb 2021
Words are like water.
When they are being used well, they become a source of life for every living being on this planet. A source of hope.
When we waste them on the other hand,
our tongues will be the first ones to suffer.
Descovia Jan 2021
The times I questioned my past life through other faces

while searching within reflections.

I see you inside of me.

I see me inside of you.

We roam different lands and trust our vision to the skies to be at home here.

Watcher of the skies, existing in a world believed to be manifested of lies.

Hope is stronger than fear. Our lives isn't measured by just years.

What chance do we have at survival before we doom ourselves to fall into the hands of damnation?!

In a 🌎 of many things. Where we hunt our own! Use life force of fallen to grow our crops. Our lives are games, the hunger never ends. The very last concern on mind is an invasion.

What are we?

What are we?

What are we?
Witches
Sorcerers
Angels
Demons

All in disguise
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