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Carter Ginter Jun 2018
My ex called me the other day
We ordered something together
And she wanted to drop it off to me
I didn't want to see her
I didn't know how to tell her that either
After I told her I wasn't home
She decided to tell me that she missed me
That she hasn't stopped thinking about me
In the moment I stayed silent
I knew I didn't miss her
I wasn't letting myself think about her
Now that I think about it
I wonder if she actually meant it
Or if she was just so used to saying it
Because I've heard that same line
So many times from her
But her words stopped mattering to me
Because her actions never matched them
And sure enough
Later that night she wanted to exchange things
But I was busy so I told her no
The next morning I offered to stop by
Even though I was scared to see her
But she was angry at me again
Probably because she knows
That I know she's not worth it
Not for me at least
And I do feel sad that
She might feel so bad about herself
That she relies on her ex's commitment to her
To define her worth
And I hope she finds help for that
And I hope she finds happiness
Because I do still love her
But I'm done
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2018
0 followers?

then I'm your man,
your very own first
Northern Star,
the first of a 3 legged stool,
upon which all enthroned poets,
the world, do rule

the honor you bequeath me  
to be, a first follower, your own
first responder,
cannot be
disdained nor diminished

this case, this birth, revival,
heart transplant, makes it
the greatest
to be the first,
the quencher of your thirst
so long in the parching,
the throat burnt by a desert sojourn
of an an ended forty years

so come to me,
message me a message,
find me a find,
a poem so fine,
I here now vow,
our embrace n'ere be broken

give me this honorific,
let us together be terrific,
raise our glasses,
arms entwined toasting you
and all that mind and breast of yours,
bursting full of future~contains,
the full release of,  brings longer life
to us both

I am a father.
I am a grandfather.
I am a First Follower.
I am a First Responder
for all who need a leg up,
step up upon my heart,
the first step upon a ladder
with no top, no end sighted

my legs are as old as time, but,
measure me not by the rings and the
metered scales of gray hair aging,
the shock of white, the cain mark

but by the muscles of my affection,
the solemnity of this,
my irrevocable promise

this,
the blessing we both earn and make
when you write,
while we wait
in quiet attendance -
for all your good works,
your kept promises

Blessed are You Lord our God, 
Ruler of the Universe
who has given us life, sustained us
until just now,
allowing the reader and the writer,
to reach and greet this day.
Keiya Tasire Jun 23
It
Are you bothered by "It?!"
Are you pushing it away?
When you hit rock bottom
The only way back is up.

Make friends with "It."
Move  closer to "It."
Expand your awareness around "It."
Totally embrace "It."

If you drop the story line about "It."
"It" will become a Love story.
A story about Unconditional Kindness & Love.
Is it a person, place or thing?
What is it that bothers you? What is it about it that bothers you?
It bothers you so much!
Now what? What are you going to do?
Do you have a choice?
If you do what are your choices?
Questions, questions! So many questions!
Yes, it is okay to embrace it and ask questions.
Have fun with it.
You never know what may arise :-)
jane taylor May 2016
life…..

a blank canvas

with blurred edges

and ambiguous spaces

thank you god

for allowing me

to paint

©2016janetaylor
ryn Feb 2015
You are the light
That hides below the horizon
I await humbly for your rays
To illuminate this darkened season

You are the beacon
That would build me anew
Equip me with newfound notions
When dreams and hopes are far and few

You are the air
Of a fresh new start
Allowing this body another chance
At retrieving a brand new heart

You are the opportunity
Held my breath for far too long
Soon be granted to live again
And choose the right from the wrong

You are the day
Like many have too often said
Due to arrive after tonight
And embrace me as I laid in bed

You are the tomorrow
The promise of my brand new day
But there have been many tomorrows
That have come and gone away

You are my tomorrow
My future, bearing much needed balm
Maybe tomorrow I may finally realise
**That you would never ever come
ryn Oct 2014
tell me...

will tomorrow bring,
     all the things
i'm longing...
    stowed upon its elusive wings,
tirelessly beating
    and fighting
to show what's dangling
and hanging...
          ready for the picking...

                          awaiting...
such time so it could begin its need for unloading,
                   delivering
                                      and dropping,
its gleaming
                      treasures
on those who are deserving,
        in no way lacking
so they could be at the receiving
end of this pressurising,
           inking
                      of dwindling
                                        words...

carel­ess thoughts conceived only to
              fuel
           my deranged ramblings...
incessant mutterings of a shattering
                         mind...

           bending backwards, almost breaking,
         risking...
the chance of ever fully
                                          mending...

hopin­g and praying
   for a sentence that's pending
dawn's approval...

allowing
   the rising
of the sun...
                  paving
            ways for thriving
                                          wishes,
unbarr­ing
                  gates for soaring
                                                dreams, unlocking
                   latches,

relieving...
the heightening
                     anxieties of grieving
                                                        ­ hearts.

constantly whispering
                               utterances, promising
good will, happiness
                              and titillating
                                                     ­ sanity.

we're thinking...
     the earth is spinning,
         the moon is setting,
     so the sun must be rising
                         but...

             tell me,
                           tomorrow...

                                *is it coming?
Amanda Nov 2018
Wish I could do something right
So words would ring true
Wish I met high expectations
Maybe then I could lose a few

I wish I was not weighted with
Weakness well within my core
If only I was put together differently
Strength would emit from every pore

I create my shortcomings
How am I sabotaging my own goal?
Not trying in the first place
Allowing fear to take control

My heart bleeds in anticipation
Before cuts have a chance to appear
Live my life in apprehension
Assuming danger to always be near

My motionless state of insecurity
Realm of dysfunctional doubt
I forever am encapsulated in time
My skull is a jail and I cannot get out
Not so proud of this one but eh.. here it is anyway

Written 8/25/18
Eryri Sep 2018
Thank you for the memories,
The unexpected, sudden hits of nostalgia
Taking me back to carefree days
Of playing football after a summer rainstorm,
Of laughing in woodwork class,
Of my grandmother's awesome cakes.

Like time travel on the cheap,
You weather away the years,
And the strata of cynicism and regret,
Momentarily eroding my reality,
Revealing the manchild at my core,
Allowing him the briefest chance to once again explore.

But these are unpredictable reveries,
Three dimensional snatches of memories.
It's time they developed some kind of smell recorder,
Just like sights and sounds can be held for posterity.
But such technology would not compare to my physiological wonder;
Magically transforming scent into vivid memories.
Dan Nov 2016
I have seen plenty, felt plenty,
loved deeply.

I have seen different faces, heard different voices. Some soft, some strong, some even gone...

I wish I could carry them all with me as I grow old. May my memory serve me well. I can only hope to pass them along to people whose hearts are warm, has a penchant for old tales, allowing mine to be told over and over.

May we never run out of reasons.
Better yet, may we someday never need one my love...
Tammy M Darby Dec 2016
Allowing my heart to plummet into iridescent spiraling tides Dipping my thoughts into iridescent spiraling tides
Trailed my fingers through the cold waters of the mind
Releasing thoughts from the subconscious purposely hidden
That by self-command were long forbidden

Reviving emotions once deliberately struck from thought
The body a pale failing vessel
The faint beat of a frail heart

In my, despair I leaped into the waters of time
Disappearing into gathering memories
Chose not to rise
Preferring a surreal obscure existence
Immersed in rivers of doubt  
At loves insistence

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Dec. 25, 2016
I used to say , yes it’s ok , don’t worry, no problem,  i am so sorry ....
It’s my heart, it’s a fire in the ice
                   Is that nice ??
Explain it with mathematics and science..
It doesn’t work , but try that twice !!
                 Why am  I nice ?
Silently, listen to my story ..
I never said to someone No
I follow them wherever they go
In the rainy weather even in the-snow
        Why always yes , why not
                       No ??

Being too nice is a door to hurt your soul
allowing anyone to enter and attack you Without control.

This is  my advice , don’t be too nice
Because you’ll pay the price ,
And it won’t suffice
This is my advice...
Be nice , but don’t be too nice ...
It’s about very personal experience..
her eyes glistened
with the light of
a thousand stars.

they told me
she was not enough.

her scars were painted
across her canvas called skin -
each one unique to itself.

they desperately
cried out for help.

her glossed lips smiled softly,
pulling her ****** features
into a jovial facade;
allowing a melodious
voice to fill the air

it said
"i'm okay, thank you for asking."

- v.m
she is incredible and doesn't deserve to feel like anything less. she is you. you are incredible. keep reminding yourself of this until you believe it.
Elizabeth Zenk Jul 2018
As a slob, I see no reason to pick up my own messes.
I’d rather just sit amongst my problems
allowing them to marinate
in a puddle of negativity and self-hatred.
I’m such a pathetic slob.
A mess.
A disgusting freak just
bathing in my own
filth and *******.
Decaying along with
my grime and trash.
disgusting
A B Faniki May 12
Your smile is like the scent
of a wildflower, you give
it generously and graciously to all;

like a flower you wear beauty
Marvellously, that is why designers
made you their abode;

the bees(journalist)and beetles(fans)of the
concrete jungle love your sweet nature
which is like that of a flower,

that is why your name is
on their lips and they chase
you wherever you go.

You are the most gorgeous flower
with the most captivating blush
and stalk;

you make the world blissful by
allowing our eyes to drink your
beauty till we stagger drunk with it.

By Jove! Everything about you is
wild, charming, and down to earth
like a wildflower in the spring.
This poem is for all the beautiful women out there,  whos smiles and beauty make the world an amazing place.
PoserPersona Aug 2018
The concrete drum
beats two steps;
their sound signals
dear freedom

The cricket hum
drowns the day
and instills a
tranquil numb

The bare breeze
strums leaves and all
and breaks the heat
in welcome

The tonic sum
a blessed song;
allowing one
to triumph
multi sumus Aug 2018
Hollow shoes in hallowed halls
This sunswept maze where shadows fall
upon the stones which lie beneath my feet

Through the doorway thresh is held
By bated breath
and faith dispelled
my faculties restrained i do entreat

For many a moon has passed since last ive cast mine eye upon that has such beauty uncompared to any other

Chaos thought
A thousand dream
With hastened heart
Although it seems
i seek not her a Love
but yet a Lover

          They began to whisper...

   Which shall speak that her gaze may fall upon Us?
   And to what voice heard will her hand reach forth?

   Be it by pillowed tone her heart be swooned?

   Nay, But with intellect and eloquence shall she be found appeased

   And what of charm found south with a hint of gentleman drawl?

   Or does she desire a tumble and rough to take hold and charge her?

   Perhaps raw and silent with mystery air, allowing her curiosity to draw her near Hahaha!

Ahh humor, Yes a quick travel in, entertain her that she may be...Tickled


Cease this banter
Silence
Still
Strength within
Bend
Break i will not
follow in Your footsteps any longer!

Now bold am i
Through time and times
With patience prayer
and then i find
That that which destroys not    
just makes me stronger

So with humble speech and subtle grin
Repore is built
Then questioning
"Opportunity may i have to call upon you?"

Refuse me not
My dear i pray thee
Words amassed
Forgive and let be
known they're spoken only unto few


And within the shadow They murmured
Each by Their turn...

   Bound by silken thread and silent tongue?

   Nay, By soft and sweetened lips shall We speak unto her flesh
Be not word nor sound that echoes in those ears but merely whispers to her soul

   Mmm, inch by inch shall she be ravished, Savoring every delicate morsel, And feasting upon her succulence shall We find solace

   Oh! That We be granted leave to bestow upon her such pleasures

   Pleasures yes! And through pain she will know them!

   Release Us That We may consume!

Deny Us not for We hunger!


NAY! the scream
though not aloud
Consent withheld
within a shroud of
mystery to why the unacception

So unto the lock
the bars do hold
These "demons" kept  
since times of old
speech silent to avoid any detection.
jane taylor Apr 2016
The chill in the frigid night air
casts tremors of lingering shadows
upon an ancient windowsill
where a liquescent candle’s glow dims.

Peering into shattered mirrors’
silver hued jagged edges
that no longer reflect counterfeit images
a nascent paradigm unfurls in the wind.

Terrifying diminutive steps are taken
in directions au courant
enabled by years of refinement
in torrid near incessant fires.

An excrescence of wisdom
has broken the weathered mold
allowing a senescent wisdom
to shimmer a phosphorescent glow.

The venerable map leading
to this transcendent destination
is not read but perceived
through intuition’s faint whisperings.

©2015 janetaylor
address to soundcloud version
https://soundcloud.com/user-229781433/whispers-1
forged in the likeness of you
the whisper meanders in my memory bank
it dances softly on a burgundy velvet glove
that covers my wrinkled hand
it visits me in deepest dreams
and speaks in hushed tones
of the infinite days ahead
when we shall once again dance together

forged in the feeling of you
I live each day like the last
holding onto the past
like a cat with a caught bird
not allowing it to die
waking to the sounds of winter winds
and old favorites on the radio
the ones we listened to together
so many years ago
those years that forged a love so strong
that I rarely blink twice
without the thought of you dancing by
12/2006 slightly revised
Carter Ginter Dec 2017
Simultaneously I experience love
Three sources
Not three divisions
My love for one
Cannot define or change
My love for the others
Endless
This love is fearless
Despite the terror I often feel
New territory brings out new emotions
But it's allowing me to grow as a person
This is a little older, since two of my three partners are no longer in my life, but the love is still there
Jack Jul 2018
A phantom kisser leans down to kiss my lips as he presses himself against my timid body, allowing me to let go.
Fear ingulfed fades away,
Replaced by peace.
Mind and body collide,
Set aside the hurt.
So far and distant,
But so close all the same.
A phantom kisser,
So far and near.
And oh so dear.

(C)
Umi May 2018
Inspiration, alike joy comes in different types,
It could be as simple as a little wallflower, or as complex as astrophysics, or even more than that, what counts is the source,
Allowing us poets, from a simple emotion, to develop a piece of art,
Allowing the artists, to express themselves within beautiful illustrations, each unique in style and shape, even if some parts may look as if they have been repeating themselves a couple of times,
A word of love can be enough after all, to set a lonely heart ablaze,
Such is the beauty of this earth we are living on, the beauty of being different from one another, but finding what ties us together is truly magnificent, with each difference may come a nice mutality,
Some look up to the sky, shining beyond the scene, the sun brightens up their mood, followed by the dearness of the dazzling white clouds,
Others may find a rainy day wonderful, the raindrops which can be interpreted as tears are but for them falling jewels from the heavens,
These are a few examples of what may birth inspiration, but it can be even smaller, like a small, delicate corn of dust.

~ Umi
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