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julianna Oct 6
I can’t be a mind reader,
Tell me what you mean
I don’t understand the language that you speak
a thousand i miss yous linger
in the sky, stubborn clouds that they
are. but i am not tall enough,
nor can i reach high enough to
bring them down and spill them upon
the floor for you. so they remain
there, unspoken, unrained, unloved.
Star BG Jun 1
Without readers eyes,
poetry would be dormant,
drifting in field of page.
Readied for the sun
rays of brown
blue, amber or grey
to anchor in vellum sky.

Without your eyes
moments would
echo absent of clarity.
Poetic painter
would long for exposure
in museum of minds

Regardless pen moves on
trained to release
a road for one to follow.
The reader who carries
the sacred sun of eyes.
First poem of day
reading a book,

felt like conversation,

with thounsands,

who can relate.
Life of a reader.
annh May 2
How can I pour my existence onto the page,
To stand firm, true, inviolate;
Like this arrangement of ancient bark?

My words written in their time,
Shed themselves like autumn leaves,
Tumbled and turned by the winds of the creative mind.

Will they whisper to those who would hear,
Of greener times and memories unfurled,
My secrets, my shame, my joy, my sorrows?

To be picked up and appreciated for their sunset colouring,
Swept aside with impatience as a trifling incidental,
Or trampled to dust by the pell-mell of rushing feet.

And which, dear reader, are you - a collector, a sweeper, or a trampler?
So many words; so little time to fully appreciate other’s writing. I think I’m a collector with sweeper tendencies. :)
My niece

Hugging me tighter

Than usual;



Words spill

On my heart

Making a mess

My mind

Will not erase;



Kissing me sweet

Clenching my fists;



The big things

Rest on that microscopic grin

On the right corner

Of my lips --



That is where you lie,

In the space between

My lines.
Maria Etre Feb 7
When
my
poetry
fails
I just
write
your
Name:______
Star BG Jan 13
Poet opens eyes
to scribe many a senryu
Reader is so blessed

Scribe opens hearts
to write many a haiku
Reader is yes blessed.

Reader readies self
to read on and get insight
They as well are blessed.
Just playing in playground of words
The difference between a writer and a reader is that,
A writer plays with words,
And,
Words play with a reader.
eriya Jan 2
I am a girl
Who hopes to have a happily ever after
In a world that has no forever

Loving romantic books
Not for the guy who have looks
But for their love that'll catch your heart with a hook

You cannot blame me for hoping
For I am unknown in loving
And know nothing
In the world I'm living
I really love romance stories. I envy their kind of love.
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