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As I  look to the sky
Through the depths
Of the night
I  see you shining
In your own right
For you are
A Shining Star

Then when I  wish
Hope or Dream
Even experience reality
I know exactly
Where you are
Dear Shining Star
You Witness Me

My every breath
That I  take
Showing how
I partake
In a sense
Of being struck
Star Stuck
By your  Love!

Debra Lea Ryan
01/08/2021
My Heart Today!
Ylzm Apr 18
Surer knowledge by cross examination
of witnesses than belief in imaginations
Will more certainty than mindless chance
Shakespeare was a man rather than monkeys
and Eve than washed up fishes learning to walk
Àŧùl Feb 1
When Love arrives,
Don't be hesitant about it,
Don't be dumb towards it.

Improvise to be expressive,
Improvise your poems & verses,
Be romantic and passionate too.

Learn to be flirtatious & elegant,
Learn to be welcoming & courteous,
Be adventurous and spontaneous.

Receive love with all its grandeur,
Reflect it with twice the splendour,
Witness the magic of love.
My HP Poem #1907
©Atul Kaushal
Traveler Dec 2020
It’s me
But it’s not me
The witness behind
It’s always watching
I pretend to hide

This is my life
So why would it care
What ever I think
It is aware

And when I give in
Nirvana take over
The laws of nature
Intoxicatingly sober!
Traveler Tim
Mariyam Ridha Nov 2020
Just don't think about those people
Who have left you with no choice
But to think the reason of your aloneness.

Just don't hover around,
Those,
Making you feel unworthy,
Shut their door,
And don't worry dear,
It isn't ego,
It's self-respect,
Self-help,
Self esteem and
Self-love.

Just don't be with those,
Bragging about their victory,
By belittling your tiny beginnings,
And don't worry dear,
It isn't that you aren't worthy,
But the person is so unworthy
To witness your
Victory by stepping tiny it's.
You are a gem ❤️
Heidi Johanna Oct 2020
Beauty is my witness
To the better things to come
Dante Rocío Sep 2020
Imagine a young fervent swarthy portrayal,
caramel strong un-clad lady,
yet at touch so “douce” and glued
whilst leaning out
from a window
slender rainy on a balcony too urban
pane
And eyes at digital art
Spin a confession
Of how the watered petals of flowers there
do not explain
The origin or calling of the rain
And that its every end or beginning
In her unbetrayal made swayed
Has actually
since always
there
been taking
its rightful place.

The world in that fact
does not have,
find
nor
make relay, sense.

Someone right  on the other side’s
staircase stroll
Would extract their own core
by extending through their ribs own

her beloving so longing and old
that one at last will find it
possessing a too hurtful call.

Head lolled.
Dew owned.
Hereby a painting
The Rain gave me
As my new rightful face.
They will hold it forevermore
As their subject yet bearer.
The chosen laid and left there
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