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I want to write, but what about?
I have nothing to say, no words to make.
Every idea is just a half bake.

I want to learn, but how?
I can't focus for long, my attention span fades.
Every idea it forbades.

I want to love, but whom?
Who would ever have feelings for me?
Doomed to loneliness for eternity.

I've put little effort into this,
But maybe that's ok.
I don't need to work hard every day.
Marshal 5d
Another night filled with ash and snow
An old man next to a fire with no home
Yet he sits still singing alone
Hoping for others to throw him a bone

Oh young ones wouldn’t you care to listen
Listen to an old man's advice
To some I’m known as leviathan
Although those people probably aren’t alive

But sit around my fire now
I’ll give you some wasteland advice
On what your deeds can sow
If your willing to pay the price

Money, power, love, revenge, tradition
They all mean the same really
Bunch of people with a mind that’s troubled
Bringing up old ideas with a thought of reinvoking

“We will build out of the ashes of the old”
“A new world meant for the survivors”
“Old masters destroyed because we weren’t meant to obey”

Such lies are shouted often and loud
Good intentions no doubt
But to bring peace and order, blood must be shed
Hopes of being the hero must be doused

In the wasteland your supposed to become more
Yet we’re shackled to the past
Leaders promising they have the key to a locked door
Vowing that to **** the old you must sign the pact

Industries of sin run on blood and dust
Shiny lights counting down to a payout
Behind smoke and mirrors you find lust
All of this guarded by puppets pulled by a payroll

So young ones, what will you do
Denounce the past and try to be greater
Embrace sin and forsake moral duty
In the end you will die with no gravestone

But that’s just what I have to say
I’m only an old man with no home
Maybe we will meet another day
On that day I will judge your sins
This probably ***** like everything else I have written
Lyn-Purcell Oct 15

Hear the hush of the wind dance above
Through lush lands of green eagerly spread
Birds soar and swoop, butterflies kiss foxgloves
Laughter rings wherever humans tread

◦•●◉✿ ⚜❃⚜ ✿◉●•◦

Through lush lands of green eagerly spread
As glass blades sway soft and sweet
Laughter rings wherever humans tread
On nature's palm, they openly meet

◦•●◉✿ ⚜❃⚜ ✿◉●•◦

As glass blades sway soft and sweet
Birdsong heard near and far
On nature's palm, they openly meet
A simple serenade to forget life's scars

The day's a grey one but even so, I wanna think of something sunny and happy. While looking for courses to try, I found a new form of poetry to experiment with - pantoum. Pantoum poems are described as 'a poem of any length, composed of four-line stanzas in which the second and fourth lines of each stanza serve as the first and third lines of the next stanza. The last line of a pantoum is often the same as the first.' [Credit goes to this site:]

First time doing this poem, and I think it turned out really well.
I just pictured myself at a park and focused on my senses.
I think I may do more of these, I'm really happy with the end result! ^-^
Thanks everyone, wishing you a good day/afternoon/evening/night!

Stay safe and well!
Be back soon!
Much love!
Lyn ***
HL Oct 15
I need to be held today
To have that warm embrace
Someone to say that  "It's okay"
Then kiss me on the face
To cuddle the stress away
And let sorrows erase.
I can rhyme all day
Blow your mind, you don't even have to pay
Words hotter than a sun ray
Serve you like a hot lunch tray
To me, it's just child's play
Jaw dropped, not much to say
But haters will say I'm just okay
Eat them up like my prey
Make sure to keep them at bay
RIP here they lay
Angel of death, show my wings and fly away
Time to get on your knees and pray
But try as you may
My vote is nay
So tell your god I said "Hey"
Because I won't be seeing him today
Marco Rigau Oct 11
I'd give anything to get poems out my mind
They're putting me in a bind
But in time I may come to find
That they're worth something once refined
Witherhexis Oct 4
It's gnawing at his bones,
and clawing at his spine,
he knows he's not alone,
but now is not the time.

The woman behind sings,
broken voice bringing life like spring,
enlivening his actions,
but stressing her malefaction.

He'd been running for years,
or at least, that's how it felt.
Despite his eyes' red tears,
and skin starting to welt,
his drive had never reared,
but soon, to enervation, he knelt.

He fell into the leaves,
pain stung like blades unsheathed,
now too faint to run,
he peered up to the sun.

Then, the blue turned black,
he heard a familiar chime,
he knew, his lover was back.
She heaved her axe one time...

He still lies in the leaves,
no more cries or screams,
he speaks only silence now,
in a place that won't be found.
For an October project to write one project every day.
10/3 Theme: Fatigue
Witherhexis Oct 2
The Night sets in,
with stretched out sins,
and daylight starts to thin.
Time yet to be paid,
Night's song is played,
and so your climb begins.

The songs are howls,
grave wails and growls,
quavering in your core.
But alas the yowls,
are now your score,
they'll play forevermore.

Your eyes spot nothing,
as the sky is bluffing,
shadow cloaking light.
But now the darkness,
your adverse catharsis,
will coat you through the Night.

You mount the wall,
Night's idle thrall,
as screeching leaves you stunned.
But as you climb,
a rock slips high,
and now you know you're done.

You put up a fight, saw the light,
but now the time is nigh.
The Night has won,
the songs are done,
and you never spotted the sun.
For an October project of one writing project every day.
10/1 Theme: Dark
Norman Crane Oct 1
by brightness
you are my second sun
though your gravity is such
you are
my only one
Norman Crane Sep 28
/1975/ My mother died,
And forever cold she burned: cremated
No ceremony, no final goodbye,
Her will leaving me uncompensated.
Alone but for her ashes in the urn,
Which sometimes buzzed like bees and wheezed like breath,
I kept it shut until the day I learned,
That she would be my burden even after death.
Now every day I lift that hideous lid,
Remove the tiny skeleton within,
And place screeching in its awful stead,
Held by the tail, still in its fleshy skin,
A freshly caught rat / Hungry ash covers,
The dead too devour their living lovers.
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