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 Oct 2016 Timothy H
Mike Essig
How can
our hearts survive
so many battles
when they
can never be
satisfied and happy
at the same time?
A brown leaf lingers
At the mercy of the wind --
Hanging, like the stars.
I've bled
not because
I am a
broken sinner

I've bled
because I
am woman
harbinger of
new moons
and unspoken
mysteries

I've bled
life into the impermanent
landscape of the mind
like gravity
holding you down
in spite of the spinning

I am the fierce
darkness
traversing the
universe
barefoot

In this
black moment
I am forever
I carry
this womb
with the honor of
mothers before me

Now I am woman as a crone
ushering in the new world
of infinite love and magic
 Oct 2016 Timothy H
SE Reimer
~

prelude.

did you know that English stands alone as a written language requiring the capitalization of the word "I"... yet makes no similar provision for “we” or “us; a sad statement of self inflation.  it was after learning this that i abandoned the rule in my own poetry.


~

my i’s averted,
lowered, diverted,
reduced in size,
an exercise of
large proportions;
breaking down the me-isms,
finding room for we-isms,
to take the larger place;
create an i for seeing,
the case for simple,
smaller being;
no need to punctuate,
instead eliminate this
compulsion to inflate;
’tis my i-drop moment,
my i-reducing ointment,
these pupils are dilated,
deflating i and me,
enlarging we and thee;
finding that in i-reduction,
the eyes are widely opened,
thus to better see,
what i really need to be.
 Oct 2016 Timothy H
Mike Adam
Only the moon
Defines our day
With orbit

Only sunshine
Allows our life

Only our ***
Creates our people

Only your love
Made me whole

Now moon drifts away
3.87 centimetres
Each year

The night shall stretch
And die

You left
All at once

Only I cry
I cry
I cry
 Oct 2016 Timothy H
Bianca Reyes
120
 Oct 2016 Timothy H
Bianca Reyes
120
I hate when you leave the toilet seat up
Or how you spill toothpaste over the sink
I hate finding your clothes hung over furniture
And how you sleep pushed up against my back
Radiating your heat all through the night
I hate even more waking and realizing you're gone
I still can't bring myself to erase the signs of you
It's been a hundred and twenty days since you left
A hundred and twenty days since I last saw you
A hundred and twenty days since I touched you
I remember staying up late at night
You said you'd travel to the most distant places
With or without me
I never thought you'd actually do it
A hundred and twenty days since you left
I still feel you pushed up against me at night
And I wake to an empty spot on the bed
With a matching pain in my heart
While grief is the only one I wake up to
A hundred and twenty days since your death
Shared on Hello Poetry on October 7, 2017
All rights reserved under Bianca Reyes
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