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eli Apr 2017
looked at your face
blew smoke in your eyes
it felt right.

i guess i'm fine
       writing between the lines

maybe this is what i need
i'll plant the seed
it will grow, they always do
no one will have a clue

can't say i miss you
can't say i miss you
who knew, who knew
you wouldn't miss me too

it's alright, for tonight
it's alright, for tonight
i'll just write
                      with the help of your bright

i lost my sight, i lost my sight

                   nothing's real, so what to feel

to feel? no deal.
David Flemister Mar 2017
I've lost far too much to care
From afar, you touch the tear
Feelings marred, I clutch your stare
I've lost far too much to bear

Cigarettes begin my day
Better yet, they singe me grey
I could bet on what you'd say
Please just make it go away

Can't you see that I'm in pain?
Don't you hear me call your name?
You've just got to stake your claim
On the boy that never came

When the sun returns, my dear
Don't question what I'm doing here
You knew that I would one day steer
My way back to your jagged spear

So on the day that neither know
Be sunny, grey or white with snow
I'll deal out the fatal blow
And on our separate paths we go
josh wilbanks Mar 2017
Deep inside of me is a voice. Normally i can drown out it's constant talking. Lately the voice has been getting louder and louder. I feel as if soon that voice will spring free. My soul will scream to the sky and let loose the deamons bellowing below. Desire will consume me; my old friend has forced his hand.
M Harris Feb 2017
The biochemical snow emanates bopping dejected the extended, short existences of winter,
Twisting and wandering in knee deep whiteouts that scream and moan,
The chemical spirit, at first light mildly falling in inverse star-shaped fragments,
Beseeches virtue before the wheezing shovels, the scraping ploughs,
The ghosts departed back to air in a crystal tune,
A triad stinging from the bare breach in grade school melodic period.

From the willowy walkway down the timbered trajectory,
Snowflake burdened branches combinate into a rhyme with the masked sun,
The raw, stripped light in overdue the hemlocks,
Stillness shattered only by the cracking cold.

The rivulet is icy over, yet liquid runs,
Underneath, under, deep in its veiled preserve,
Life, the anonymous shadow,
Scuttle’s from stone to stone,
Mingling up a smidgen of gravel from its silent inactivity.
Afrooz Feb 2017
Below the sky, she saunters
Within the shrubs, she wanders.
Among her herd,
towards the fiery bird.
Into the cave,
beyond the faithiful slave.
Accepting a daisy,
despite being hazy.
Following the slow, winter breeze,
among the trees.
Underneath, she sees
past the dance of a thousand bees.
Below, her downcast eyes did not reflect her mirth,
Unlike her feet, which were planted firmly, in the Earth.
Meg B Feb 2017
How long does it take
for the urge to fade?

I still
search for shelter in your
words and phrases

but there is nothing more written
on those pages.
Pisceanesque Jan 2017
In waking sleep we all expire,
remote organics built to tire –
searching lusts for something more
to fill our souls beyond our core

We lay awake inside a dream,
asleep within a constant stream,
alone, in part, to wander, lost,
with passing time our only cost

We play as shadows holding hands
with eyes wide closed and few demands,
our every moment briefly clashing;
fast forgotten memories flashing

Here, we count down from our birth
with time a thief upon this earth –
purpose teased at every corner,
Chinese Whispers our informer

But all will realise when we’re gone
that we were dreaming every song –
that death becomes another story;
a painless world of allegory

I fear we write this book forever
as single pages bound together
to lay inside our reader’s minds
in passing paragraphs of time
© Tamara Natividad
www.pisceanesque.com
Written 21 January, 2017
thehiddenwriter Dec 2016
People with broken hearts wander aimlessly,
they try hard to find some shelter and
cover from this world which sometimes burns very bright and it becomes very difficult for them to bear and survive .
I must confess
That the sun went West,
For it is in its nature
To do so,
Just as it is in mine
To follow its path,
A wanderer wandering,
A rouge retreating
Forever into the sunset,
Always seeking,
Never finding,
Always looking,
Never seeing.
You can find more of my poetry at caitlincacciatore.wordpress.com
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