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clmathew Feb 2
Weft and warp
started January 22nd, 2021

The cloth is woven
weft and warp
twigs and twine
bits and pieces
gaps and flaws
make the fabric
of my life.

I try to worry out
the threads that I know
aren't right
the flaws that threaten collapse
yet have become
integral parts
of the weft and warp
that is me.

I smooth this cloth
with my worn hands
then fold it up
and put it away
to work on
another day.
We are all looking for answers, to some question or problem. If I knew, I would tell you. Since I don't know, I will stay here with you as we work on us.
Naveen Malhotra Oct 2020
Poetry
Criticizes life
Doesn't condemn
Abusing God
If you condemn
Criticize life
Bring forth realities
Eye openers
Adversities, perversities
Incongruities, atrocities
Maleficence, imprudence
Whatever prickles inner self
Suggest solutions
If you can
Don't condemn life
You condemn God
In doing so
rose hopkins Sep 2020
when you blot out the problem
you can also
blot out the solution.
Orakhal Jun 2020
The
only way
out of a problem energy

be
to activate the solution energy

not
to be digging
into more of the problem energy
Kairosclere May 2020
I know you’ll just be okay
When you work
Till your whole being shivers
With exhaustion
And your eyes cloud
With salty perspiration
And you push yourself
Into that one last lap
And keep pushing for another-
And yet another.
I know you won’t fall;
That much faith is essential.
And, wherever you trip,
You don’t tread on again.
With all those lessons
You’ve learned on your way,
You know you’ll just be okay.
Connect to me
Via Instagram @_kairosclere_
Via email bhama26@gmail.com
On Pinterest  @_kairosclere_
On hello poetry at https://hellopoetry.com/Kairosclere/
And my blog https://kairosclere.blogspot.com/

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Thank you for reading <3
Vera City May 2020
When digging for answers
I found a new level
Kept shovelling deeper
Ran in to the devil

He offered protection
He baited with vice
Through his ringmaster's grin
Promised Paradise

Politely, I declined
In peace, took my leave
He tracked me and traced me
Devoid of reprieve

His net cast so broadly
An erroneous shove
What he didn't see coming
Incalculable love
Wealthy people have a knack
Of making contributions
They don’t let trials get them down
But focus on solutions

So don’t let anger conquer you
Or seek out retribution
But seek to take the higher road
And offer a solution

Of several ways to undertake
A problem’s diminution
The best by far is simply choose
A mindset of solution

So cultivate this daily choice
There are no substitutions
To making it your daily goal
To seek out good solutions
This is Prosperity Poem 67 at ProsperityPoems.com and you can see it displayed on a beautiful background (copy and paste the link below). https://prosperitypoems.com/delivery67Solutions.html  
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Ron Sanders Feb 2020
Up with the sun, his mind razor-keen,
he hikes up his trousers and starts his machine.
Though barrels of funk feed their reek to the dawn,
he pays them no heed; the trashman rolls on.
Up alleys, down thruways, past storefronts and stands,
he guides his behemoth with rock-steady hands.
Though big rigs and small fry speed hither and yon,
he sticks to his creed; the trashman rolls on.
Down **** to Impostor, past each stinking bin,
he makes for the junkies and merchants of sin.
Though winos raise eyelids, though punks point and grin,
he straightens his shoulders and thrusts forth his chin.
******* and derelicts lurch from their sties.
Pimps and their harlots flash Jacksons and strut.
“Hey, you in the truck,” a pickpocket cries,
“What are you, buddy, some kinda nut?”
With hands on the levers, and brightly lit eyes,
The big driver leans out and coolly replies:
“No, sir. I’m the trashman.”
And down comes the fork, and up goes the muck.
The gears maul the lowlifes, the fork rocks the truck.
Though hollers and screams shake his steel mastodon,
he longs to proceed; the trashman rolls on.
The truck passes perverts, creeps churned in its bile,
up Felon to Pusher, down Vicious to Vile,
where block upon block, where mile upon mile,
the hookers regale him with smile upon smile.
Near-naked floozies exhibit their wares.
But this man just glares while they trumpet in pique.
“Hey, you in the truck,” a drunk strumpet cries,
“What are you, mister, some kinda freak?”
His hands on the levers, with brightly lit eyes,
the big driver leans out and gently replies:
“No, ma’am. I’m the trashman.”
And down comes the fork, and up goes the slime.
The gears maul the contents to streetwalker chyme.
Though hollers and screams are distressing and drawn,
his heart fails to bleed; the trashman rolls on.
Pining for virtue, he clatters along,
up Bully to Bigot, down Trollop to Spawn,
past Conman and Cutthroat to Thirteenth and Greed.
He steadies, caresses, and readies his steed. Virtue, indeed.
The trashman rolls on.



Okay. NOW CUT AND PASTE THE LINK BELOW TO READ HERO, A SPRAWLING, GROUNDBREAKING FANTASY FOR GROWNUPS IN TWO PARTS. (BUT YOU MUST CLICK ON THE PROVIDED LINK AT THE CONCLUSION OF PART ONE TO ACCESS PART TWO! THAT’S WHERE THIS TALE’S AMAZING RESOLUTION LIES. But please...intelligent, soulful readers only!)
NOW HERE’S THAT LINK:

https://allpoetry.com/poem/14922744-Hero---Part-One-by-Ron-Sanders


Copyright 2020 by Ron Sanders.

contact:
ronsandersartofprose@yahoo.com
CUT AND PASTE THE PROVIDED LINK TO READ HERO, A GENUINE MASTERPIECE OF LITERATURE. IT'S EASY!
Empire Jan 2020
I feel alone
I feel desperate
I feel destructive

20mg hydroxyzine later

I feel tired
I feel calm
I feel drugged

I don’t want to be like this
Seeking relief every waking moment
Begging for the pain to cease
Pull solutions out of a hat

take pills                      
                    *******
drink                            ­       scream      
                                            slice your wrist
a few more pills          
                              bother your friends
sleep it off                                                  
           ­      cry                          write
plan your death                      
                                     ­         try to ignore it


And know
That though this mood will pass
The illness never will
It will always stalk me
It will always come to torture me
It will always be waiting
To destroy me
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