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Mya Sep 2018
You make me happy
I felt like I've been sitting in the cold
Dark corner
All alone
Until you came and said
"Hi"
To me
Erica May 2018
.
.
.
.
.
and so i sit here
staring at the words on the screen
feeling so empty
and so alone
without her
to keep me happy
and once again, i am lost
without her by my side
Rebecca Sue May 2018
We sit.
We wonder about possibilities
Counting them on our walls
Narrowing down their importance.
We linger far too long.
Missing what could have been.
So we stay there...
Sitting still.
Poetic T Apr 2018
Eclipses of what was draped,
             woven on me like entombed
shadows that never feared luminosity.
          
Within I was a contradiction
                   that was rising on
                        every morning.


But I was nothing,
                   but what was a raven on white.
37 words
Jenny Gordon Feb 2018
...asking if I'd "--left the kitchen because it was too hot?" as I'd brownies in the oven and dinner warming on the stove.  



(sonnet #MMMMMMCMVIII)


Lo, nary voice flits through this warm pretense
Whose eye is April's in a trice, the pale
Blue heavns white clouds dim with four geese' detail,
And yes, a silent flock of birds which thence
Fly past, light flashing off their wings, a sense
Of deathly naught held like a notice frail
Warm hours are but a tease, as sparrows fail
To merrly answer, whiles I feign what hence?
Thin nonchalance, just as last night in tour
Where I "performed" sae poorly with a crew
Of local poets at the Lit Fest.  Were
Their kindness not Thy mercies, LORD, what through
Our vain hours should we answer?  Is't sae poor
I cherish 'gain these minutes I once knew?

27Jan18
I'd only thought in looking out the kitchen window on all that it was too silent in the kitchen sans bird voices, when lo, there were none to be heard after all. NOTE for L14:  in 2011 I used to hang out on the back stoop in the warmer hours.
sweet ridicule Nov 2017
Drops of red drip down my hand it
(looks like blood)
sweet red juice
the cold water is numbing my tingling
hands as I separate arils from peel
one popping bright red jewel at a time
I am learning to be patient with
(traffic and fruit peeling and anger)
myself
this sink room smells like burnt
ramen and popcorn and my socks
stick to the ***** floor
sitting on the ground
against the wall
If this is all there is I swear
I will be happy
Bryan Oct 2017
SITTING, staring patiently
debating taking silent leave
to heave my bones toward reprieve
and shake off all that's shaking me.
SITTING, staring patiently
I see the demon's point in me.
I see it shine, I see it weep,
and see it when I go to sleep,
LAYING, waiting patiently.
Horribly, these foggy dreams
do less to please
than psyche needs.
I feel a presence gazing me.
LYING, waiting anxiously.
Now here it is debasingly
teasing me insatiably,
promising my every need:
LYING, hiding everything.
What do we call this foul disease?
This object overtaking me?
A spoon and needle ****** me.
LOSING, hiding everything.
Poetic T Sep 2017
Old rocking chairs sways
       in the wind of
                              yesteryears.

Collecting fragile memories
      viewed over silent
                              contemplations.

The world moves on
                       but memories
                viewed sitting here
Luis Liriano Sep 2017
there's no time for wishing
nor for us

there's no time for hoping
nor for you and I

but I can't help it, so I sit here waiting for a fate to decide that you and I
that us should exist  

hoping that us could exist
even if there is no time left
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