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the rushing water
what is it running from
to find out i guess we have to know where it's coming from
Celestial May 14
So, there is a gap.
No bridge to be seen.
A precipice untapped.
I can see the green.

Ah, the challenge.
forgetting all secrets,
Can you find the hinge?
Never mind, I can see your pockets.

Also green in color.
You won't tell me,
You don't even remember.
Like a honey bee.

I'll take the ominous message.
Not sent by you,
but by the passage.
What a wonderful clue.

Ever closer to the answer.
Hopefully, the gap will close.
I'll see the other side with pleasure.
So you pose.

Questioning what isn't, or is.
Wanting the green again.
Looking it over, deeply knowing the bliss.
Misunderstanding the plain.

Anyways, this side,
isn't so bad.
You can watch the tide.
The blue only lingers a tad.
Sam Steele Mar 29
See the kettle boiling
(Ate the biscuit long ago)
Have to let it brew a while
Tenterhooks are all aglow

Nervous system ready
For the stimulating brew
     {sip}
Oh my goodness gracious
Too amazing to be true

For the answer scroll down














C See the kettle boiling
8 (Ate the biscuit long ago)

H Have to let it brew a while
10 Tenderhooks are all aglow

N Nervous system ready
4 For the stimulating brew

O Oh my goodness gracious
2 Too amazing to be true

C8 H1O N4 O2 – The Caffeine Molecule
KG Feb 5
I am not a poet.
I am what I lack.
I am a scholar that doesn't read
Atleast the prose that you misinterpret.
I am not strong.
I am what I lack.
I put these daily burdens on my back
These ideas that break your bones.
I am a demon with no inclination,
Towards evil unless for myself.
I am what I lack.
These angelic guardians hold me close
While your demons tie you down.
I am apathetic
I am patient
I am death awaiting your final gesture
To the gods I am nothing
To man I am a riddle.
What am I?
I bought a hat which fit me
It was a hat was never worn

I loved every lass who kissed me
And had five children born

I told a lie will own me
Moment to moment to my last

I owed a debt that drove me
To regret my wasted past

I've drunk more bottles empty
Than written poems of worth

Counted friends aplenty
All cherished for their mirth

People say my Father made me
Happy the hat that finds a peg

People say my Mother braid me
Unhappy the noose that fits the head

The good I left behind me
May never see the light

Any bad which lives in memory
Is a hat was made too tight


Tommy Randell 07.01.2020
I am here but that's not clear
I am in there but not in that
I look different when in front of the rest
I am here and I always will be
riddle me this
Eola Dec 2020
The metal boxes which burn people’s eyes

Are a way to escape one plague by immersing into another

On it the people are communicating with portraits

That look like deceased ones' photos
Guess
Eola Nov 2020
It runs through it's masters veins
With a thick consistency that stains
The journeys that it usually takes
Often are in snowy plains
When it stops, it makes chains
Of epic tales that advance our brains
After the centuries it remains
To help us in the quest to obtain
The knowledge we seek to retain
What is it?
Eola Nov 2020
There was a village
Called Ludnica in maps
Quite old and vintage
The population reached 100 at max

It was known far and wide
For it's weird rules
Everyone had to abide
And dress like white ghouls

Half of them were blacksmiths
Working day and night
Others had to submit
And were to be polite

Every once in a while
Another black sheep would appear
Some even hostile
Not understanding why they were there

Then the blacksmiths' work would restart
They chipped away the metal chains
Reshaped the mind part by part
Untill the sickness didn't remain

"Where was this Ludnica?"
You might ask
But don't search for it
Because it will find you at last
This might be easy to guess
But I still wonder if this text makes sense
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