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I dream
as a flower,
opening
in waves
as I open
the pages
of a book,
I bloom
between
dreams
and reality
while in
sips of tea,
the people
I walk past,
they too,
are beings
of water
in the  
oceans of
the mind,
visitors of
the earth,
stars are
in the words
they speak
within the
the ease
of the
midnight
hour, the
propeller
seeds lift
for the
moon in
the eyes
they held
for one
another,
it is in
presence,
the depth
in the
quiet
longing
to only
read
of the
secrets
of love
I, the
writer,
wish to
sing to
them,
“all the
unsung
is, by
the sight
of the
heart,
sung
forever”,
so then,
all the things
they behold
become
as they are,
wondrous.
A girl
had seen
the once
hidden
stars before
her eyes,
as small
as they
were,
they saw
a refuge
in the place
she called
tears,
soaring
in the
night, she
gently
lands in
the garden
of the moon,
she had seen
every petal
as a word of
poetry, a
cinematic
scene,
the flowers of
her becomes
a guest within
the heart,
they asked,
“how did
you know
of our
secrets?”
to which
she says,
“I am
love and
so are
you”.
Leocardo Reis Jun 2022
Let them be
as petals of a flower
scattered by the breeze.
david jacobs May 2022
wri
ting is
threading
your       life
thro          ugh
a nee         dle
and           if
you    sew
secrets
you’ll
get
po
ke
d
a
l
i
t
t
e
by me
formerly
Hg
What news is being disguised
By the worlds, Dictators, & Hierarchy,
The tales the rest of us hear, each day,
Why wars, conflicts, each of us will die,
Soon enough anyway.
What’s the real urgent reason,
So many innocent people,
You **** along the way,
Why can’t us possible targets,
Know the truth, if you plan to make our day.
Being Rulers of countries A gig
Ninety-nine percent of us normal minded people,
Will never imagine or see, You, have money, power,
Or is it some crazy bet, and you have already,
Picked the final hour.

                                                The Original: Tom Maxwell © 3/7/22 AD
3:00 am
Marya123 Mar 2022
The whole world's playing a game of poker
And I'm dealt a strange, confusing hand
I don't want to be mediocre,
I make rash moves, which were never planned
Inevitable, I fail each test,
To start over, again and again
So I'll keep my cards close to my chest
Hoping that this time, it won't be in vain.
My Dear Poet Feb 2022
a
   poem
      hides a
     secret within a
    letter or placing of
     a word look carefully
           and intent-fully
                   a secret you may have
                heard examine it ever closely
                       what’s preferred
                  or inferred if you
         open read it slowly
     it may fly out
like a
bird
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