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Kenneth Gray Oct 2020
I've got the pedal to the metal on a highway to hell.
Gotta keep my eyes on the road. Only time will tell.
I struggle and suffer through each passing day.
Gotta change my route, Gotta change my ways.
I see the exits that are off to my right, as each lonely day
shrivels into night.
The hands of the clock aggressively tick. No time to decide, I've gotta be quick.
The exit sign reads "green pastures, still waters ahead". Gotta decide, or else I'll be dead. The sun rises in the east and sets in west, foolishly speeding forward at least I'm trying my best. Ignoring the signs warning "danger ahead!". I've gotta turn off, or else Ill be dead.
So focused, so determined, to barrel ahead.
Why can't I stop? Why don't I hit the brake? Its right there!
Turn off for Gods sake!
"Still waters, green pastures ahead". I rush along as if nothings been said.
"Excuse me, Lord? What did you say?" As I struggle and suffer through each passing day.
"I've told you once and I've told you twice. Is there really a need for you to be told thrice?"
I say "No Lord, the sign is there, I see. No need for a thrice, the problem is me.
The sun rises from the east and sets in the West, you know Lord, at least I'm trying my best."
"Still waters, green pastures ahead". With deaf ears I've heard it all said. Barreling forward. Soon Ill be dead.
"Still waters, green pastures ahead."
I was living a life that wasn't quite the best. I felt like I needed to change my ways, but felt stuck at the same time. I needed God. I was laying down thinking one night when the lines of this poem started coming to me. So I jumped on Facebook and started writing.
Blackenedfigs Apr 2020
A new beginning;
A do over.

                                    Time does not stand still
                                    But instead moves rather slowly
                                    and sneaks right up on you.

                                                                    I blink and everything is changing;
                                                                    In a hundred, wonderful different
                                                                    shades of blue.
Velvel Ben David Apr 2020
He handed out love
Like it was an object
In a gift-wrapped box
With gift receipt taped on
After few times use
They went to the store
They got a full refund
He never got back
What he freely gave

I’m still young
He thought
I’m just enjoying life
He thought
I really care about those women
He thought
I’m being honest about my feelings
He thought
I’ll find the right one this way
He thought
Twenty-eight women later

He was more degraded
Than ever before
The number wasn’t impressive
He certainly wasn’t proud
He’d rather it roll back
To zero or maybe one or two
At the most. Only those few
First cuts who left their mark
Were still on his mind from
Time to time or all the time
Depending on how honest
He was on that particular day
He’s a suicide case
He feels sick to his stomach
Unsteady, faint, vertigo
He falls - falls - has fallen
He feels a hand at his neck
His chest tight like a rope
Was wrapped around it
Tied to a pick up truck
And drove forwards at full speed
Clutching him ever tighter
His breath sapped from his lungs
“I only want to be a better man
A better man than I am
To live and not to fear
To thrive on happiness
Not fall into the same old trap
Of mortal hungers”
These words loop in his head
Like a broken record
Light fades from his eyes
A ringing floods his ears
Like the dial-tone of an old phone
Left hanging on the cord
When a call is long over
The choice is his to try again
His alone
Either to live on
- or -
To die a lump on the stone cold floor
He starts to cry
He’s full of fear
- but -
No one’s half as anxious as the crowd
kmr Mar 2020
I’m standing here
Naked and bare
To you
And to the world.
I haven’t been ready.
I’ve been dancing in meadows
With my eyes shut tight
And covering myself
In hand-me-down clothes.
But I’m not dancing anymore.
I’ve shed the scraps
Of ripped up cloth
And my skin
Along with them.
My eyes are open.
I’m listening now.
I’m ready to see
What you have
To show me.
I’m ready to hear
What you have
To tell me.
CarolineSD Jan 2020
The night is a broad canvas
And the mountains emerge along the edges
In serrated silhouettes.

A black ribbon highway lies ahead
Splitting the snow-brushed open spaces that
Glow faintly white
Under a yellow moon.

And here, I will forget

All that rests behind.

I will give up these thoughts of
Not being enough
And let
The great painter brush
My soul into the very center
Of this wild
And forest-laden place.

I will rush along the snow-touched pavement
To the darkened bodies
Of the hills

And a love that
I can feel
In the atoms of the air.

It is born of wilderness
And winds
That tumble from the high rocks
And bend the grasses only to rise
And begin again.

It is born of narrow roads
At higher elevations
And hidden, rushing streams in places
Where I walked along the banks
And held your hand.

It is born of my children’s laughter in the
Orange-red sunrise of the morning

And it is born of forgiveness;

Forgiveness for what is forming on the canvas of a life
I have washed clean

And it is born of finally allowing myself the grace to see

The beauty of it.
Michael Marro Jan 2020
The deepest beginnings start by wading through shallow waters
A thought inspired by Ackyra Maver Hunt's "Maybe I like you", published on Poetizer.
Michael Marro Dec 2019
It's been 30 years since I've had to think about these things.
A long time between lovers, infatuations, and flings.
While the players are new, their roles have stayed true.
(Yet I find myself lost; don't remember this cost!)
As I relearn the rules of woo.
First bit I wrote as I began my new life. Funny how how much is the same and how much more has changed!
Molly Sep 2019
If I could have one last conversation with you
A final day in the sunshine
I'd tell you I love you
for the first time
and the last.

If there's one more thing I could teach you
It would be that the way you're living
is no way to live.

But I'd say it in my head, send it through my exhales in the hopes it subconsciously reaches your ears,
so as not to ruin the present moment.

We're sitting in silence
knees touching
bodies leaning into each other so it all hurts less

You'd stroke my eyelashes as they flutter with your fingertips
I can't remember what your laugh sounds like anymore

I can picture you laughing, but it's like a silent movie

But I remember how your voice sounds as it cracks through your tears
And I can see your restlessness
even with my eyes open.

I can feel your sadness
Its weight I can still see imprinted on my love seat

If I could tell you one more story about myself,
To the version of you that was still open
like a sunflower
so willing to receive

I would tell you that I'm tired of being scared
done with hiding my need to be protected
so tired of staying up all night guarding my own heart.

I may require affection and love more than you're used to giving
but you have seen my love move mountains for free
and I need just once for someone to do the same for me.

If I could meet you for the first time
one last time

I would share with you that I see your fears and I honour them
sooner than I did before.

I'd tell you
you're safe here

I would believe who you said you were the first time.

If I were to say goodbye to you again
a do-over
an un-doing

I would sit fully in that moment with you
and thank you for your honesty
forgive you for your shortcomings

Accepting that you never really unpacked your bags

Even though in my mind,
we had already grown old together.
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