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Someday,
I'll be a wife.
It's hard to imagine but
the future's just right there.

I can't bring myself to think that
there would actually be a man
to put up with me
in everything I do.

One day,
we would probably be at home,
watching TV on our lazy *****,
enjoying mugs of coffee
and probably keeping watch on our child.
(I can't even imagine having a child.)
Take care of each other,
give kisses to the other,
and say our "I love you's".

It makes me think of
how precious that future
would be.

It's scary,
thinking about the future.
But thoughts like these,
well, these are the bright ones
that plaster a smile on my face.
 Mar 2016 Trinity Monks
GaryFairy
another poem about a poet
another poem about a poem
another poem about poetry
i feel so much alone

finding depth in the shallows
by hiding under stones
dying without any oxygen
now i am drifting bones

another poem about a poet
another poem about a poem
another poem about poetry
i feel so far from home

(i promise that this will be my last poem about poetry, or a poetry site.)
When I log in, it goes to a page called "home". I think that this is self explanatory. Poetry "communities" ruin poetry, by alienating new members, and embracing being the same. Not to mention all of the drama and *******. Maybe we are all in the same boat, but some choose to paddle, and some choose to ride along. You might ask why I am here, but don't bother.
Before I'd give up everything for you
And I thought you felt the same too

Funny how a sentence, even a word, can change it all

Maybe I have realized too late  
But now I know that your pretty face
Was not worth the wait.
 Mar 2016 Trinity Monks
A Lopez
An early waking
For today
Remembering christs
Stone rolled
Away.
We have hope
In the new
Next day
Forever living
Beyond the grave.
 Mar 2016 Trinity Monks
MS Lim
I should never aspire
a leader to be
that would
be self-imposed slavery.

Neither should I
a follower be
in rejecting both
I would never lose my liberty.
 Mar 2016 Trinity Monks
MS Lim
When there's too much of me
I stop
and feel uneasy.

It's the perennial theme
the inexorable -the world and me-
it's real--not just does seem.

If there's too much of me
I must assume--the external
of things has encroached on my liberty.

I can only live
outside of me to some degree
beyond such I can't give.

Too much of me
I should not want
it would be a malady.

This, this only
will set me free
when there's little left of me.
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