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dina Jul 2018
i'm a hard worker
i've been a hard worker
almost all my life

i get good grades
and i get rewarded

but i feel as i advance
my hard work
will not pay off
and my hard work
will not be enough
dina Jul 2018
the gulls
flying by
their wings
shrouded in the morning mist
or silhouetted against a bleeding sun
i think i'm not going to participate in poetry for a while. i'll miss this community but i think i need to try something else.
  Jun 2018 dina
Nat Lipstadt
why I love certain men

it’s a raining and writing Saturday,
a washout for the beach visitors who chose their
calendar lottery tickets poorly

but hurrah and huzzah for the poet
in the no-sun-today-room with
steam collecting on his face from his 20 oz. Canadian mug,
the rest of him cozied neath a
wooly mohair knitted and tasseled blanket,
from a now naked and shivering alpaca goat in Turkey or Tibet

perhaps we’ll make a tiny dent
in the 1319 poems,
in the ‘sorta started to do’ list

new one sneaks in demanding immediate satisfaction
and threatening my mind’s incarceration unless,
serviced and unleashed as the Frenchies say

Frites, immédiatement!: (french fries, now!)

I love most men; certain men more than others,
not because they are soft to the touch,
look great in thigh highs, can fix a backhoe,
lay hands on animals, just as they do upon their grandchildren,
or write better poetry than me,
they make me weep from zealous delight at
their capricious unprecedented constancy of their
honorable actions

they are soft to the core, which is itself
wrapped in a leather soldered steel,
which defines them by their self-questing constant,
asking themselves preface and postface,
doing it well, in between,

what is the honorable thing?

this honor idea of which writ previous
doesn’t dissolve - indeed grows crescendo stronger,
like the miracle of the Yom Kippurs rams horn
crying out to heavens at the concluding end  
on the holiest judgement day,
a shofar miracle for it inhumanly grows ever louder,
ceasing only when nightfall marks a new day begun,
reminding both sinners and saviour each,
to inquire of their colluding selves on this forgiveness-giving day,

what is the honorable thing?

some are borrowers and some lenders,
of anything, the substance or the whom matters not,
but the bonding bonfire from which the deal is done,
is of a uncharted organic chemical matter unrecognized
but millennium ancient

here I stop

the call to breakfast must be obeyed,
for it’s with lovely made, menu man-poet requested,
this is too an honorable thing to do,
and the 1319 half blood~half writs poking my eyes,
can be faced with new courage afterwards
on a perfect raining and writing Summer Saturday
for the next one hopefully and woefully

may not come till the September (Rosh Hashanah/Jewish New Year) when acorns fall

certain men will greet that fall Sabbath/ New Years Day,  
when Atonement begins, a ten day process to the final conclusion,
by asking of everything living and of every act human performed,
for the forgiveness requested inherent in the absolute bar setting of

what is the honorable thing?

which by the by,

is why I love certain women too...

and all who are honorable
will read this honorific and remain
clueless as to whom it is addressed...

oh god, I do so love that best!

what could signal honor even more...
dina Jun 2018
chimneys and cobbles
from a long time ago
decorating this city
the place that we know
like the back of our hands
traced with blue lines
matching the transportation
the stops drooping with vines
plants rich with rainwater
that drips from the sky
a sky gray like concrete
dotted with birds that fly by
looking for a warmer vacation
with a sun that can shine
strong enough for imposing clouds
they're looking, but i've found mine
i'm really enjoying writing poems about places that i've been before
makes me want to go back desperately!
dina Jun 2018
tangerine and cerulean
cool beneath our feet
in a spiraling mosaic
while we rest and eat
olives from the groves
salty as the sea below
lapping on the shores to touch
fields marvelously aglow
with the shimmer of the fireflies
as they perform their dance
a lilting, evanescent display
that leaves us in a trance
we amble back to the villa
as the setting sun paints the air
a dazzling vermillion
that reminds me why i'm there
  Jun 2018 dina
Jaimie Ramirez
Trapped in a diverse world
Nothing others can imagine
Abandoned is how it feels
Mentally different just keeping it real  
Overthinking my mistakes
Hoping to change and grow
Been keeping this vile side on the low
Lost mind still looking to be found
Head always spinning around
Lucid minds cannot hide
Need your love to survive...
Been feeling lost lately
dina Jun 2018
while i endured
your winter love
of icicle words
and frosty lips
piercing my heart
and freezing my mind
i prayed for summer
to break me from your hold
and it soon arrived
in the form of someone else:
a beautiful golden angel
who carried me away
in tender, forgiving arms
who kissed me softly
and filled me with light
i flourished
in their summer love
of flower words
and sun-dappled lips
nurturing my heart
and warming my mind
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