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You are poets

You share your lines
Your trains of thought
Turning your pain like green-lathed wood
Into trinkets of inspiration
Vessels to hold loose-change
Something we are open to
When mood strikes, and we take long, slow, sighing, shoulder-chest-heaving, deep breaths
And learn to let our troubles slide quietly away without undue ceremony
You are the change-makers

Pillars of strength to
Hold and keep aflame all our spiritual candles
Chandlers true

Makers of conceptual substance – alchemists
True to type
Sensitive, thoughtful, caring, deep, hurt, yet caring still
Melting flowing crucibled guilted-blood into untarnished solid gold

I love you poets
I hope you love you

World’s greatest chefs
Pound of flesh, institutional vegetable, crème-de-la-crème, occasional dash of whine
Binding, sticky, starch-collared recipes
Improvised to your own rebellious preferences
Bakers of the most sumptuous, flowery, melty warm chocolatey cakes
I relish dining on your mercurial epicure

Painters, decorators
You embellish blank-walled leaves
With the most delicate of symbolic stencils
Enriching horizons of static sloths

Architects, builders, engineers
You design emotionally tailored homes for heads and hearts
Sometimes clashing with nature, sometimes sympathetic and empathic
Life’s daily bricks packed from fearful mud, into solid foundation
Offering comfort, friendship, and warmth
Intricately constructed handshakes connecting one with another

I love you poets
I hope you love you

Musicians, you fiddle and tickle and strum and beat and blow out your thoughts
Into visual sound making hearts beat; just that bit faster, that bit stronger
Soaring up beyond bounded skies into ethereal heaven
Evoking telekinesis on our usually unnoticed miniscule skin hairs in places we’ve never seen
Words, simple solitary, sometimes harmonic, and in truly inspirational moments, symphonic maestro-flows
First, a tear, then rivers flowing from our eyes
Like pristine, pure, virgin glacier on first sight of light, onwards like moth-ice into full summer-blaze

World’s greatest athletes and hunters
Flexing rippling glossy muscle, prowling, stamping the earth, charging into full battle
Meticulously eyeing up opponents in deceptively gentle martial mating dances. Then BANG! You got me!
Feasting on gladitorial victory or imbibing minimal nutrition on humbly licked mouse wounds
After the kill, you show me you are my friend, and I yours, and we share our meal

I love you poets
I hope you love you

Do you see what you have become?
How far we move each other from lazy comfort of favourite, threadbare, reading chair?

I love you poets
Please you love you too
Lilly frost Jan 5
Hello there
Sitting in the corner grumbling about your health
Would you listen?
I need some help
It’s hard holding up the world all by myself
When you bother to look up do you realize my shoulders aren’t a shelf
You can’t pile things on top of me and expect me not to crumble
My legs are weak
I’m starting to stumble
May I have some support
Not your usual retort
I understand I must be stronger
I don't think I can hold on much longer
May I lay on you
Simply a word or two
Just a brief relief
A second of peace
If not I understand
But please would you take my hand
So I know where to go
On such a slippery slope
Where is the dry land
I'm being buried please understand
The weight in this muck
I'm losing my luck
Back bent eyes closed
Its up to my throat I have nowhere to go
Ms Noma Jul 6
Life can be kind
When you learn to confide
Liberate your stress
Don't avoid but address
Your issues at hand
Which may not be so grand
Once you tell a good heart
So you don't fall apart

Treasure the days when you feel most alive
Savour the moments you finally thrive
In increments we change
And expand our own range
Not built in a day
More complex than clay
Born from months of gestation
To live contemplation.
Colt Sep 11
When monsters fall in love, do they leave their ways behind them?
or terrorize towns hand in hand?
Do they still open tops of buildings like giant jars of jam
with giddy smiles striking fear for miles around them?
Will they still pick planes from the sky? Or just the crust from their lover's cloudy eyes?
Do their mangled hearts become manicured?
With razor claws brushing wretched jaws,
will children hear them making out in closets?
Will they huff and puff at armies, or yell sweet nothings to pass the time?
Their passion would be fascinating, making love while making masses fear their wrath.
And maybe if we're lucky, we'll see two monsters in the park--
with lipless mouths and fighting tongues--
showing us a love so stark, it would be a first to be given hope
by such vile a folk.
For there's a chance for all of us, if even monsters fall in love.
Atli Sep 8
i never knew the
importance of friendship
until i lost a dear friend
to think that a friendship
of two girls finally
came to an end

i look up at the sky each night
wondering what i did wrong
to see that some of the
twinkling stars don't twinkle
all night long

i wonder if it was i
who made those big mistakes
i wanted to apologise
for all the hearts i break

in my journey of life
i don't know which people
really care, it was hard
for me to give you up
but i had learnt to share
this is to all the people who have lost their best friends.
rob kistner Sep 5

let us speak of power

the writer's words
the artist's eye
the craftsman's hands
the singer's voice
the player's soul
the actor's courage

all who rise up in creativity
to share their gift

who elevate our humanness
shun our negative self

who share their spirit to inspire

who see great possibility
in the face of great challenge

who will not succumb
but prevail
as a kindled flame
to light our darkness

their's is the power
they are the powerful
for they empower


rob kistner © 2006
(revision © 2018)
A contemplation on the positive power of creativity.
rob kistner Aug 30

money binds the soul
tangled with dark history
wise men understand

what may seem easy dollars
may prove confining collars


rob kistner © 2018
All that glitters...
Marle Aug 30
You were never there, for me.
Like, I, for you.
I would, share, my whole self.
For, a love, like yours.
But, it has come, to an end.
& now, things won't blend.
Maybe, like a painting.
It is, blended, but never there.
Maybe, like a dream.
Seeing, you, everywhere.
Haiku Donna Aug 25
Good morning wagtails
Yes it's a wonderful start
Thank you for sharing
First birds we saw today was three wagtails such lovely happy out-going birds xxx catch up soon
Escapism is always fleeting
it's the law
Two sides must be competing
and an escape we saw

So we continue to burn
these words inside
Towards a shrine we turn
leaving ashes for others delight

I collect yours, you collect mine
like dust in an urn
As I give it freely it shall be thine
Of each others escapism we may learn

Knowledge is my thirst
so I sip from the ambrosia of books
You, who saw my wisdom first
a heart made of poetry, this is how it looks
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