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John McCafferty Jun 2020
Third of five
A gemini
When she flies we soar
Her noise can floor
Echoed in our ears
Remembering laughter brought
A powerful injection of positive vibes that elevates temporary state

The scales etched from one to ten
A bell of Tibet
She cares to share so extra
Between be relatively unseen
Conceded when she dips
her time is needed
Worthy as a sister of mercy
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Samriddhi Arya May 2020
Broken,
What a strange things?
Light shines through the crack of things are broken.
Broken,
What a strange concept?
The most beautiful words are always flowed from the most broken soul.
Broken,
What a strange concept?
There's a beauty in broken things even light has to be fractured to make colors.
*Broken is a temporary state for humans,
Broken never existed to begin with.
Hii guy it's my first poetry 💖
Tierramxrie May 2020
I give too much of myself away and end up not having enough left.
What do I need to do so you can see me? So you can understand how much this hurts me.
I’m just one of those people who feel too much and love too much.
I’m one of those who just can’t seem to let go when I know I have too and my only reasoning of not letting go is because I love you too much to do so.
But what about me? What about what I need out of this?
I’m fighting for a love that probably never really belong to me—was it temporary? Am I only good for temporary things?
Do I make you feel—anything?
Kinty May 2020
The most beautiful things in life: the beautiful blend of sunset colors, the beautiful bloom of sunflowers, the beautiful crisp of leaves that fell last Autumn, and the beautiful curve of your smile, are never more than temporary.

It’s sad how being temporary makes things beautiful.
Would you rather stay forever or be beautiful?
Mr Poet May 2020
No matter how much of a burden you have for a while
Just let your emotions die and put on a temporary smile
Inspired by the people who fakes a smile to conceal their sadness.
Andrew Crawford May 2020
A new day breaks,
same ageless sun comes dawning;
its tender touch enough to stir landscapes lush and sprawling.
The morning’s warmth breathes life,
illuminating colors young and still crawling;
the frost of nighttime evaporating and slow thawing
awakens anticipations, dewdrops naked and still yawning-
a newborn alienation in the face of creation, left fawning.
Holding onto what it can while free falling,
ambiguous mist collects then forgets
what it reflects is its own longing;
capturing, refracting back,
confusing light diffused as itself when recalling.
Condensation grips, flips image and slips,
fights gravity and hangs there stalling,
and yet it is not prolonging its inevitable dissipating, dissolving
as indifferent heavenly bodies keep revolving,
dusk recurring and always resolving.
Rhiannon Apr 2020
To comprehend the idea of freedom,
Thrown around me in retort,
Goes along the path of reason,
The very thing that I was taught.

Unbeknownst to me this beginning,
Built up of loss and flames,
Brings me courage to carry on winning,
Lifes ever changing games.

I bring you chance of please and pardon,
A route not yet walked by,
Snakes slither round you in this garden,
But you do not flinch or cry.

From broken bones and desperate illusions,
To a place to rest and drink,
We open our minds to other conclusions,
The worlds bigger than we think.
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