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How often have I read a verse
then tried to write a line?
As if, through some divine reverse,
the poem, it could be mine.

But, read too many other books,
I've heard them say I do.
My mind and pen behave as crooks.
I just feel the same way, too.
 Sep 2016 Et cetera
Stephan
.

*If I were a poem
I’d ask you to fold me up
and put me in your pocket,
then at the end of the week,
toss me in the wash
with the rest of the clothes

And when you find me later,
smudged and smeared,
ripped and tattered into
little unrecognizable pieces,
don’t worry about it,
I was already like that
I have been notified that this poem was plagiarized and posted on Poetfreak by someone using the name Blurry Face. I can assure you, this is my poem.
 Sep 2016 Et cetera
Nigel Finn
You call me broken, not knowing
That my hopelessness stems
From watching you lie to yourself
Over and over again.

What causes my suffering is
Having caught a glimpse of what is real,
And you, not understanding,
Trying to change the way I feel.
Understanding a person should always take priority over medicating them.
 Sep 2016 Et cetera
Nigel Finn
Endorphins need to be released
In the quest for happiness and peace,
So if you love it let it go
And feel the joy it can bestow
In reply to Ryan - SparKticas's "Single Cell Organism"

Cheerfulness is never more than a thought away, although I appreciate that can seem like quite a distance away sometimes.
 Sep 2016 Et cetera
Nigel Finn
"How am I feeling?- I think I'm fine,
Or at least not as bad as before
I think that I'm having a wonderful time,
Although I really can't be sure.

If I tell somebody I'm feeling OK
They smile and say; "Is that so?
What's made you feel better today?"
And I mumble; "I don't know."

It makes me question what I say,
And confuses me more and more.
I think that I'm having a wonderful day
Though I really can't be sure.
"Ask yourself whether you are happy, and you cease to be so"- John Stuart Mill

“And then I felt sad because I realized that once people are broken in certain ways, they can’t ever be fixed, and this is something nobody ever tells you when you are young and it never fails to surprise you as you grow older as you see the people in your life break one by one. You wonder when your turn is going to be, or if it’s already happened.” — Douglas Coupland
 Sep 2016 Et cetera
Nigel Finn
It's a plan in itself,
Not an open invitation for suggestions
To go on long walks, or dancing,
Or paint-balling, or take a drive
Down to the beach.

It doesn't mean I am free
To do one of the hundreds of tasks
You decide are more important,
In an attempt to fill my day
With a different kind of meaning.

Today I am doing nothing,
Because I have become lost,
In a world where doing something, anything
Is so expected of ourselves and each other
That simply doing nothing is viewed
As a waste of time.

We so rarely have opportunity
To have the conversations in our heads
That determine who we really are,
As we watch the moments floating past,
Lying under the stars.

Today I am doing nothing,
Please understand that what I desire,
Is silent doorbells, unknocked doors
And that the phone doesn't ring
As I curl up by the fire.
You have to allow a certain amount of time in which you are doing nothing in order to have things occur to you, to let your mind think. When was the last time you spent a quiet moment just doing nothing – just sitting and looking at the sea, or watching the wind blowing the tree limbs, or waves rippling on a pond, a flickering candle or children playing in the park?
 Sep 2016 Et cetera
nobody
Thorn
 Sep 2016 Et cetera
nobody
Hide your heart, with open arms,
impaled on a thorn, piercing your core.
It's just a rose,
a beautiful rose.
Take heart, my dear, take heart.
How the petals do fall, and gently fade.
It's just a rose, a beautiful rose.
Ouch....
 Sep 2016 Et cetera
Diána Bósa
Today a little
pale-veil vein was discovered
under your skin right
there, below your right
eye. I am aware that
it was a tough day
and you're so exhausted
too, but I just marveled it,
because I've never
seen it before; it
never revealed itself to
me, yet somehow, in
a strange way it made
me happy for I had no
doubt that you are real.
 Sep 2016 Et cetera
Austin Heath
Sworn in secrecy,
a language that only we
could read, understand.

A promise we wrote
with our lips on our bodies;
The world would be ours.

We'd start at the stars
and work our way back inside
one sun at a time.

We'd lie other nights,
and we'd never get downstairs.
We'd make our own dreams,

and we'd fall asleep,
full of dreams and promises.
Gone when morning comes.
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