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✓My favorite weapon
✓Bikini ski boat
✓Fluorescent sand
✓Her eyes immaculate
✓Keys to the prophet's house
✓Emotional screening device
✓1 cup of sun, 3 teaspoons of rain
✓Third world treasure map & saxophone
✓Alternate flightpaths
✓Extra parachute
✓Mediocre Shakespeare
✓Poison pen letters
✓Getaway car & escape route
✓Ladies in waiting (in lingerie)
✓Subterranean lips
✓A pinch of film noir
✓Night vision
✓Antarctic scenarios
✓Fountain of remembrance
✓Policy of containment
✓Silhouette machine
✓Water wings
✓Pillow
She hurried on,
A laptop clutched to her chest,
Heavy bags with some books
And a pile of thoughts from nowhere.

She seemed to levitate,
Lifted by her own emotions.
She nearly lifted off, but she tripped
And fell on a bright fall afternoon.

A tiny, ridiculous bump,
Like a karate fighter’s sudden strike,
Sent her body reeling with a single blow.

She groaned.
She couldn’t stand up,
Her ankles were hurt.
The ego suffers shame
Lying flat, stripped of dignity—
Flesh and bone with higher aspirations
At the lowest score.

People passed without a word,
Without even bending down.
Invisibility. Disappearance.
Soon, perhaps, she will be taken
To another plane?
There lay a woman— not a human being?

Strange things happen on this cozy Earth.
Perhaps it was consciousness itself,
Or simple hellish humiliation on the wet sidewalk?

All speculation ended
with one short remark:
“She’s just drunk!”

How can you not love all these people
for their deep insight,
their tireless devotion to shapes
and short, simple lines.

Oh, Prophets at every step of our shared path,
always knowing more about my life –
and yours.
 Sep 8 Bekah Halle
Jill
Round and baby smooth
Before the heavy lessons
Now more gold than globe

Earned geography
Topography in bruises
Ridged in blue and black

Fault lines and canyons
Shining yellow Kevlar-filled
Stronger in the cracks

But this recent dent
is a gut-aching crater
that wobbled my world

So, I wait for healing gold
And grow stronger from repair
Kintsugi is a Japanese art that involves repairing broken pottery with gold, making the brokenness part of the beauty of the object.
 Sep 4 Bekah Halle
Laura
Touching Jesus is all that matters.
And our lives will never be the same again.
Just one touch.
Only one touch.
As He leads us on our way.
 Sep 4 Bekah Halle
Laura
He said.
I am your provider.
I am your healer
I am your strong tower.
Believe upon my name.
Ask in my name.
Trust in my name.
And I will deliver you.
Because
I Am
The Way Maker.
"Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection.
Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined.
It's a kiss, whispered sweetly" (2)



who needs challenges, commissions.
kicks~in~le butte~
when heaven heaves rains, one downs tall orders in
short shot glass verses, which glossed over at its
first communion(cation,
come back
months later
to subtract - another
poem from where it lay dormant
on the doormat
of my sub~sub~terranes
of my diluted subconscious au natured dry & rugged terrain

a favored poet,
a secretive admirer,
whoa~whose~her truthful name, I've yet to uncover,
but whose one true soul inspires me repeatedly,
ana~lyrically licks me into
dredging from me
un begrudgingly

and yet,
another love poem,
she herself wrote when elixiring (commentating (3))
'pon one of mine,
a long long time ago

Alas!  Alack!
unnaturally immodest,
one concedes,
when obviously a Super~Woman!-cedes,
seeds in three verses, what I  could never unknot
nor uncover

so I requite & requote with
unlabored pleasure
miz patty m's
primary terse verse,
neither secondary & never tertiary,
her absolut perfect mixed drink
defining, summarizing,
the essences of love

"(Love) Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection.
Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined.
It's a kiss, whispered sweetly"


I concede, in deed,
and in writing,
I know nothing,
of writing
of only love poetry
and all the great predecessors,
elsewhere lyricized, named and tabulated,
by yet another women, (1)
I will take my weary words elsewhere,
and if
perhaps,
disguised as a woman,
(Natalie, Natasha, Natali
see note below)

perhaps my verbal herbal insides,
my turgid insights,
will be shorter, sweeter,
but never more completer
than those of,
who can syncopate it
in rhyme
and the naming of my
predilection,
by mid~initial,
will give a measuring
of solace, and
a kiss and hug from my mirrored selfie,
having been unsuccessful at
my one chosen endeavor,
only love poetry,
adieu,
I, due,
utter
Nevermore
                    M>
(1)
see https://hellopoetry.com/poem/5134157/whispers-of-the-romantic-soul/
(2)
patty m
(3)
pompous stupid word; use commenting
(4)
https://www.google.com/search?q=female+names+that+start+with+Nat&sca_esv=dee9b9933ec66180&rlz=1C9BKJA_enUS1169US1169&hl=en-US&sxsrf=AE3TifMLzVbCWkH-hNwziZl2gYN5AIX_dQ%3A1756974288039&ei=0Ey5aPeUAt_Q5NoPjNus8AY&oq=female+names+that+start+with+Nat&gs_lp=EhNtb2JpbGUtZ3dzLXdpei1zZXJwIiBmZW1hbGUgbmFtZXMgdGhhdCBzdGFydCB3aXRoIE5hdDIGEAAYCBgeMgsQABiABBiGAxiKBTILEAAYgAQYhgMYigUyCBAAGIAEGKIESJxFUNQXWI9AcAJ4AJABAZgBZqABqAWqAQM1LjO4AQPIAQD4AQGYAgOgAu0BwgIHECMYsAIYJ8ICBxAAGIAEGA3CAgYQABgNGB7CAggQABgFGA0YHpgDAIgGAZIHATOgB8IYsgcBM7gH7QHCBwUwLjIuMcgHBQ&sclient=mobile-gws-wiz-serp
 Sep 2 Bekah Halle
irinia
ask your blood
your limbs, your breathing feet
what Poetry is -
a phylogenetic anomaly
in light’s discontinuity

or just…
the strange yearning of hematopoiesis

ask the silence in your lungs
the bursting DNA, reinterpreted
how it allures memory inside your bones
how it treads conventions of sleep
with the weight of a sigh

if you ask me
what Poetry is
I’d say: breath calligraphy
a winged dream of depth
on enchanted retina
the bitter-sweet art of airy harmony

ask your hands
what Poetry is
perhaps they’ll take a moment
to bloom
 Sep 2 Bekah Halle
Khoisan
A rainbow appeared
as an Epitome of grace
Like the Holy grail
BLT's
Merriam Webster word of the day challenge
Epitome.
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