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March has marched in
Half way through the month
It is hot and has brought summer along
The grapes and melons have turned sweetest ripe
The mangoes have arrived too
Raw and green, they are best pickled
Come May
King Alphonso, will be here
From the wild coastal lands
To conquer every heart
For a golden reign
 Mar 2021 shamamama
sandra wyllie
if you should leave? Trees shake off
their leaves in the fall. The sun leaves
the day as night calls. A man leaves his home
to take a wife. But if you leave my life I’ll
not shake it off.

What'll happen to me
if you should grow pale. My lacey
wedding veil fades to yellow in the wash. My face
loses  pigment as my tan recedes. But if
you grow pale? Not! For all pale
next to you.

What’ll happen to me
if you should die? The grass dies
in wintertime, covered in a crust
of snow. Worms are food for
the crow. But if you die I’ll not be
covered.
 Mar 2021 shamamama
Carlo C Gomez
Let's say,
you're an apple,
but you'd rather be a pear.

The internet recommends
phoning the produce gods,
in hopes of being replanted.

However, there's a catch:
it's a collect call
to another dimension.

And so you sulk and rage,
and pretty much bruise your skin,
until it dawns on you:

Wormholes are
spacetime's phone booth,
and it just so happens,
you're full of them!

Yes indeed!
Going bad never felt so right...
 Mar 2021 shamamama
m daly
d. iii.
 Mar 2021 shamamama
m daly
remember that when
your wavering soul
catches fire
for the second
or hundredth
time

when you call on me
once more
misery boiling over
a cascade of every
decision, you
never made

i will not be there
you are alone
 Mar 2021 shamamama
touka
fragment
 Mar 2021 shamamama
touka
a turn of phrase

I wait and wait
and wait and wait

"an apology you have to request is..."

he doesn't finish his sentence

I wait and wait
and wait and wait
its a lovely quiet
when he decides it is time for it
then he speaks with my mothers tongue
the blood is fresh, the wounds are young
again
 Mar 2021 shamamama
Lev Rosario
To write a poem properly
That is my dream
But I can't even
Remove my mask
I don't even dare
To think quietly

All my poetry is failure
Spies that pretend
To be activists
A violent movement
A laceration
That bleeds black bile

Violence circle my mind
Like vultures around corpses
The sky is touched
By the redness of my cheeks
And I end up crying
Until night comes

What remains of my poems
Are dead organs
Words that fail at being words
Mouthful gibberish
What's left of my tears?
Acid rain
 Mar 2021 shamamama
My Dear Poet
real eyes
realise
real lies
I take no credit for this amazing write. I found it scribbled roughly on a
scrap piece of paper by a patient
at a psychiatric ward.

I found it quite profoundly powerful.
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