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Leeann May 11
i hate this
tumult of emotion
this primordial cordial of something and maybe and
never and could be.
it is dark 
bittersweet and sour as it pools on my tongue and slithers down down into my throat and lodges there
solidified into a churning mass of
it will never be the same and regret and guilty
A single loss of
gilt jewel 
and a single loose word spilled 
from a mouth and
a cog is thrown 
out of orbit and into
the dissonance that it has caused.
a decision made
logically but painfully
with a wound that thuds slowly, knock knock knock
against my chest
not acute, no
more like 
a bruise 
a reminder that i am not as
mournful as i
should be
and that change, that hated, cursed change, 
has occurred.
change is inevitable but sometimes painful
Amanda May 7
It is a brand new year
Time refreshing once more
I wonder what changes lie ahead
What 2020 has in store
I wrote this at the beginning of the year obvs haha
Once were dinners a deux, you see,
Was it only a few months, or a century?
Once were schools abuzz with kids,
Teachers agog to see what they did,
Once were universities,
Alive with youthful dreams, indeed,
Once were pubs with beers.
Once were football here,
These are viral times, my dears,
Once were bushfires too,
A horror story for me and you,
Yes, Stephen King wrote this year,
Once were Oz fun times, not fears.
Feedback welcome.
Nylee May 2
It's a routine
and there is a disruption
Everything is fine
On the surface
Dig deeper, an eruption.

Let's believe in it
but worry is constant companion,
Hope is whimsical
It flutters and breaks
And burns again with flame.

It was a dream,
A beginning and the end,
A living breathing trend.
But a life is beyond imagination,
Ups and downs and a show.

Now to this slowdown,
We don't know,
The time in abundance
Is going to drain
A fear turning to a new name.

The year has been
straight out of some ******* movie
It is building and building
and no one knows
what kind of end it will bring.
I wish I could think of
the right way to say
I love you...

It's like there's no possibility.
My vocabulary is far too limited
  The love I feel is far too complex
              And I am far too unimaginative
to give you something that hasn't been
Said a million times.

      you would certainly find a way -
      youve always been fantastic at words
      and i wish i could borrow
      some of your genius...

Every combination
Every language
Every time I try
I can't figure it out

You have made me feel like...
Like the solar system revolves around me
Like death could never take my life
Like I know the Name of the wind

      ... no ... i can do better
      i want to keep trying
      i need to keep trying because
      if i cant figure it out
      im going to implode

You deserve a special
I love you.

      something to mimic the special
      you make me feel every day
      i yearn to give you that
      so bear with me while i paint you
      a written picture instead and
      hope it can convey some semblance of
      i love you:
You are a city.
And that city, in my head,
Looks a little like... well

it's under constant construction, the
scaffolding where you expand
the buildings - your knowledge.
and despite what you might think
it's a comforting presence

between them run roads, so many intersections
all leading to different interests
but those streets have potholes - your past
experiences - and there isn't enough tar in the world to fill them.
not that it matters, because your traffic never stops and the
streets are never still; potholes and all

zipping around on those roads are cars
that get you from point A to point B - your responsibilities,
when you really need to stop for gas. it's admirable
how dedicated to those pit stops you are, and
that you still really love driving

fortunately, despite pollution - the toxicity dumped
by other people - your city is still eco-friendly. you wanted
fresh air, so on each building you install solar panels - you
never sit back and let people ruin the world

so people sit on their porches and listen to music you pipe
through the city streets, via loudspeakers you installed
because you want people to enjoy themselves - and they
absolutely love it. they show their appreciation through
smiles and laughter. how could they not? nothing can compare

In your city
I want to be a window washer
                      a maintenance woman
                      a taxi driver
                      a gas station attendee
                      an ecologist
                      a musician
I want to be someone involved with all you are.

You're a constant inspiration
So call me selfish, but I relish just being around you
And lavish that I get to be special to you

You deserve more than these simple three words
but for the sake of concision - your favorite, I know -
I'll simply say
I love you
The Century’s Wake
by Michael R. Burch

(lines written at the close of the 20th century and introduction of the 21st century)

Take me home. The party is over,
the century passed—no time for a lover.
And my heart grew heavy
as the fireworks hissed through the dark
over Central Park,
past high-towering spires to some backwoods levee,

hurtling banner-hung docks to the torchlit seas.
And my heart grew heavy;
I felt its disease—
its apathy,
wanting the bright, rhapsodic display
to last more than a single day.

If decay was its rite,
now it has learned to long
for something with more intensity,
more gaudy passion, more song—
like the huddled gay masses,
the wildly-cheering throng.

You ask me—
“How can this be?”
A little more flair,
or perhaps only a little more clarity.
I leave her tonight to the century’s wake;
she disappoints me.

Originally published by The Centrifugal Eye. Keywords/Tags: new, century, wake, new year, party, Central Park, fireworks, song, display
Amanda Mar 8
This is the end
Another year
Lying under the moon
Without you would be lost
Room colder than Neptune

It does not matter my location
Cough wracks lonely lungs
Roll over
Shut my tired eyes
Dawn forces mornings hum

Do you feel heavy weight like me?
As your emotions fall
I can sense the incoming year
The impressive looming wall
Written 11-31-19
Prosperity is a silent snowfall
On a winter night
Building slowly flake by flake
And the whole world
In the morning
Is a white carpeted wonderland

Prosperity is patient growth

Prosperity is a mighty glacier
Moving imperceptibly
Year by year
Carving through solid rock
And easily clearing
Any obstacles in its path

Prosperity is power

Prosperity is a mountain range
Packed with winter snow
Delivering water week by week
To the valleys below
With vibrant rivers and streams
Bringing nourishment
Month by month

Prosperity is giving
Last week I was driving home from my parent's house in the evening, and enjoying the evening glow on the snowy Utah mountains. Snow can be so beautiful and soft, and yet it can be powerful and strong under some circumstances also. The snow here in the mountains of Utah nourish the valleys all summer long, so snow can be giving also.

I thought of how prosperity can be soft and incremental, and strong, and giving! The whole poem was in my head by the time I got home.

This is Prosperity Poem 68 at and you can see it displayed on a beautiful background (copy and paste the link below).
You can sign up for free weekly delivery of poems at Prosperity Poems (.com)
YusufKudsi Mar 4
I am a year older now,
Yesterday feels like history,
And tomorrow is too far away.

I am a year older now,
All this knowledge but still know nothing,
Seen too much but still saw nothing.

I am a year older now,
Don’t know where I am heading but I know where I came from,
Don’t know who will stay but I know who was with me,
Don’t know who will I become but I know who I am now,
Don’t know about the future but I know about now.

I am a year older now,
A year closer to my death,
A year away from my birth.
Today is my birthday ^_^
Ken Pepiton Mar 3
Mean music, blues, is what they called

the noises,
morphing to music, in mir
act all-outs miraclue-lesss time of magi Ai ai ai
ical memes, mere memories of
the sound,
the music is in the pattern,

commas make no noise, breathe,
see, slow and steady, wins the race, been
done that, is a game sons of god once played,
perhaps, they were grandsons, in the summer of 1969.

Been there done that went way back,
that night by Lake Mohave,
when I built the carbon
oxidizing pyramid,
that burned the lesson this deep,

so now, some fifty years after
everwhen that was, when I was there
and you were not. That
is all you know,
you were not there. But here you are.
While listening to Stephen King on his 2014 Revival tour.en
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