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Timmy Shanti Oct 2018
Birds of a feather,
Not unlike me,
Love fine weather
(When it’s pouring tea).
Manners, wine and dining, too.
Mantis, llama, kangaroo.

Overmade, they do make over.
Things so brittle like the rover
Sent to Mars, the Milky Way,
Bounty, sneaky in its way.

Inbetwixt the words they utter,
They choose bread over the butter.
Frying French and grilling Jerry,
Jamming jars of juicy berry.

Duty-bound, they bound off duty.
Flock together! Fly, my beauties!
Plumes all owned. And not one borrowed.
Standing still amidst the horror…

Jokes aside, and folly ousted,
Peace preferred to putrid bloodshed,
They, like me, are hard to find…
Seems, at last, I’ve lost my mind!
took me a while in '18
Pauper of Prose Oct 2018
A trembling leaf, lifted
By a passing truck
Where a Mother and daughter
Sing in vaulted out of tune tongues
Their hands salted in sweat
From a day of numbing unnamed work
A strand from each of their hair
Floats out of the window
One flying into the forest
To rest upon a fallen tree
That had seen enlightenment
In the darkest most obscure storm
The other strand floating
For many miles
Into a crowded city,
Sampling each sound
Gesture,
Pace,
Before landing atop a door handle
Savoring the touch
Of so many souls
Ann M Johnson Oct 2018
Stained Glass
We all have a story to tell.
We can stand alone or become part of a bigger picture together.
We come in different shapes and sizes.
We are all part of a kaleidoscope of various colors like individual gems.
We are each unique but we can band together and become part of a masterpiece.
Some of us maybe smoother than others.
Some of us maybe a little bit jaded.
Some of us may have more lines than others.
While some of us are shapelier than others.
We can choose to shine alone or shine together like precious gems to become a masterpiece of stained glass if we join together and let the light shine through us.
Let your light shine.
The above poem was Published in The October  2018 issue of The Sr. Perspective Newspaper LINDBERG  edition in the Poet's Corner Section.
There the merry hologram glowing blue purple blue
Cactus human cherry on a stool
Beyond the window he would not look
Inside the sky made of wood.

The barber talks to his ferns
The flowers he understood
The living they earn
Sparkling its rough nails of your barber.
The breath and life he will spruce with apple-pie order.
He listens to
Each one story
Always about a time
A time which was cheery.

He looks piercingly to all their prickly
What he touches intently
To turn the time that latches onto your head which started feeling heavy.
Lifted into glee so jolly and carefree.

A man
Or the boys
They finally stand up easily.
Capes dusted
Top hat powdered
Their voice of fears collected as tips
For pricking up his ears.

The door that opens in the end
The swirling light that beckons
Hair became a way to lighten ---
When times get rough and belligerent
Cut it off, rugged and ruffian.

The barber hears him and all
The others like soldiers
They share their laughs
Troubles leaving shoulders
Leaving like a waterfall.
The barber knows everything
The barber knows all.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Rhymes are better heard than seen.
I feel like that is what makes poetry...
Martin Dove Oct 2018
I had no idea how terrible it all was
Until I matured a bit and opened my eyes
It cleared the mist that I often now miss
From the eyes of an unwilling devil
Seeing the tragedy unfold from a first-person level
I remember it all from that god awful view
The bad things I’ve done, over which I had no control
The outcomes I hoped with the manifestation of some
Who am I kidding - I’ve been among a fortunate few
Except for the fact that life dealt me an ace with a ****** *****
Not quite like anyone - an outcasted sole
With depressive thoughts - eating them straight from the bowl
Until euphoria strikes - then I’m a lightning bolt
These emotional storms - they strike me as cold
Who am I to cry and complain about life
Everyone is united by the suffering light
The random subscription to a life with a set rhythm
If only I could command my heart not to wither
Derrick Jones Sep 2018
I strike the ground
Sparks fly all around
The sound shatters window panes
Planes fall from the sky
Tall tsunami waves grow higher and higher
Eventually my light will expire but for now my might is an empire
My soul is a vampire
Drinking in the world I admire
Blink and it is gone
So sink into each song
Dive into each moment
Thrive, let it foment
Be alive, be a component
No opponents, only love
You fit into this world like a hand in a glove
Fly high and look down from above
From the bird’s eye, we are all the same
Arbitrary labels, constructs, names
So we can faithfully play the game
That was constructed before we came
Maybe I’m a rebel
Because I would rather revel
Than try to beat another level
For more poetry and essays, follow my blog on Medium at https://medium.com/words-ideas-thoughts
Thanks for reading!
Aditya Sep 2018
A tiny droplet falling Aimlessly,
The skies withering away its Pain,
Losing its existence Lifelessly,
The purpose was lost to Sustain.

A ray of hope striving to Permeate,
Relentless in its effort to Save,
A purpose higher than earthly Fate,
To break free from being Enslaved.

A Refraction of varied Thoughts,
Dispersing for a Brighter Cause,
An acceptance to connect the Dots,
Rising above all notions and Laws.

Reflecting a unity through Diversity,
Generating awe beneath its Glow,
Purging from every Perversity,
Shining in glory like a Rainbow.
It is the unity in humanity that creates a rainbow, else we all are nothing but tiny droplets cruising through life without a purpose.
The Light of Wisdom resides among each one of us, that when combined, creates a beautiful Rainbow.


The bigger question is —
Do you realize we all come from the same light?
Derrick Jones Sep 2018
I gaze upon the soft pillow of the night sky
Underneath, the gentle moon illuminates a quiet world
With no one around I relax my identity
There is no reason to be “me” with no one watching
I simply am

The peaceful environment paradoxically invigorates me
Underneath the vast expanse of space, I feel infinite and infinitesimal
My calm mind produces visions of beauty
I hum along to the night’s quiet song
My heart beats to a rhythm I cannot hear
A flowing melody of wind blowing through the leaves

Restful, I bask in the aura of tranquility that pervades the darkness
I am not asleep, but also not awake
I feel as though I am in a lucid dream
With no fear of waking up
I fade into the background of the night
For more poetry and essays, follow my blog on Medium at https://medium.com/words-ideas-thoughts
Thanks for reading!
Samuel Canerday Sep 2018
What is light but cold and thoughtless
Effervescent souls brought to slaughter
The writing tells of deeds undone
Of glory taken and fools cast out
A world without fear, so they say
But the day turns to night
And the dark comes to play
To take back all it once knew
Before the world eschewed its face
Or knew to give its voice a name
Oh yes, there was a time indeed
When beasts were men, hungry to feed
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