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Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
I once believed in a man strong, beautiful and kind.  
His voice as familiar as his sense of humor.
He took me to gaze at the moon and on trails to see wild spring flowers.
His eyes green and the curves of his face rounded in the morning light.  

With my heart and life, I trusted him.  He held both in his hands.  
Our love was whole and true, so long ago.  
I feel his touch in dreams, caressing me late into the night and holding me closely.  
Soft jazz reminds me of these moments in time.

How could this love have gone so wrong?
I am caught between my love and my anguish.
Could I have been so blind as not to see the signs?  
How could I not have seen him fading into another, tossing me aside like a bloodied soldier in this war on love.

When did he stop believing in me, between the lies?
When did I stop, between the love and the lies?
Is there nothing real… were we ever one?
He is a stranger without a penitent heart and soul.

Can this ever be made right; friends that part in anger,
the us that will never be again.
My angel has become a nightmare of unfinished endings,
and I, still caught between love and lies.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Logan Robertson Aug 2018
I fished a movie
hoping to cast a reel
that catches a keeper
hook, line, and sinker
I waded in line
the tackle box optimism in my sights
butterfly's in my net
visions of a hotrod
I look up at the marque
with a good cast and reel
my boats singing
a song that's hooked on love
I enter the theatre
among the trees
branching towards my spot
such forestry
I race past the mainstream
hotrod in tow
I take to my seat
setting anchor to a fun outing
as the lights abate
skip to my Lou
at bay
watching the cast make a splash

Logan Robertson

L B Oct 2017
Caught in the tangled, death of weeds
I hear the shots ring out
It has begun--
between the fading day of sky and hollow
crackling ice beneath my feet

Again, resounding shots above my head
with baying hounds
and threat of voices blazoning the prey
I do as I have always done--
make a run for it….
and always, in the past
I seemed to get away

My soul is sinking, this time
along with boots in ******* mud
-soaked panic-sweat
clambering up a bank in naked peril
numb with cold
Heaving breaths billow
onto frigid air
Stumbling sluggish
Moments cling
grapples for an edge...

With all my body's strength
exhausted longing
I heave myself back...

Fear floods out
like birth
into the lake of waking

A long time there
I lay
paralyzed, dumbfounded
My father used to take us with him trap-shooting in the open fields of Hatfield, Massachusetts.  We would huddle in the car and wait for it to end, but this day, I was exploring along the edge of woods before they started, and got caught out....

This is also about sleep-paralysis-- both terrifying!
Words you write here are intriguing
They stimulate me to know you
The imagination so powerful
A romantic encounter
A sad story
A struggle
It draws me in to your world
It traps me in to wanting more from you
I stand at the door
I wonder
Is the Dr. In
curiosity of words might I find
duane hall Apr 9
We were walking a slippery *****, we threw caution to the  wind
We thought nothing regarding the repercussions of our sins
We got caught in the rip current and lost sight of the  shore
Our lives were set adrift, not knowing  what's in store
The storm clouds were gathering but we didn't heed the signs
Of the approaching hurricane  that was about to change our lives
We tried to fight the tide but to no avail
Now our lives are nothing but a living hell
We were wandering aimlessly on the highway of life
Neither would admit it we were both so full of pride
We were riding on empty with no station in sight
We tried to change directions but couldn't get it right
Searching desperately we both ran out of gas
At that point we were in  need of a moral compass
As time went by we seemed to drift apart
Wish I could go back and make a new start.
J Rodriguez Aug 2017
When you met a soul you've never seen , it can never compare to how good it feels , caught my self smiling for no reason , replying to kissy heart texts not knowing what can happen next . All I ever asked for was a better men than my ex which I will never have to wait for a text ...
Alaina Moore Mar 2013
Plagiarism of worthless ideals,
that you so ignorantly hold high.
Shaking in amazement,
how can you call your self alive?

Totalitarian, lethargic lifestyle.
Ignominious displays of disaffection.
Constant contradictions;
out of your mind.

Caught up in the clouds,
cognition of mania and level debauched.
Up to high to realize, you're an “open mind” with locked doors.
Maslow, Skinner, and Darwin alike, turn in their graves,
over your lack of evolution.
Caught between two worlds
It becomes harder to find your people.
the many nights are never spent
In ways worth all the while

still trapped within a life of glass and in a fragile world
The death of these pretty distractions is how my truth's unfurled.
The relinquishment of crude enticement
May halt this broken life
As I watch the moon and stars and rain
And try wielding virtues knife.

May I know you, true life,  someday,
& may my memories mindful; stay
In Brightest futures my hopes now lay,
As Henderson Avenue guides me away.

confuse my judgement, sometimes I still
As both worlds begin the same-
Consistent with worries and longing disdane,
One is love while the other is pain-
One is interest, while the other's mundane.

And so the initial ideal world
That's leading onward out of range
Is where I direct myself now to
And Hope I truly make it
An interesting pain & A Mundane love
Nesma Apr 2015
The constellation that speaks my name is the opening line of the zodiac.
I am an Egyptian golden ram, and in ancient Egypt, Aries was the indicator of the reborn sun; I’m a never-ending fresh beginning of a mass of fire.
I am a self destructive flame, constantly setting myself on fire, and you caught on it.
So forgive me, and then admit the truth that we both know; Flames are the ultimate spring of warmth and light
I was born at 11 am, on a Monday, on the third, of April, 1995. 12345
Captured moments in time
Nestled between my fingers
A treasured piece of that time
Past feelings tend to linger
Back to when you were mine
Caught within a frame
I hold this piece of you
The only piece unchanged
Unlike my love for you
People tend to fade
Into something unrecognizable
Familiarity ceases to remain
When I say I love you
Tis a lie that holds some truth
Reserved for the person you once were
My beloved that you outgrew
Some times I steal a glance at you sitting
Lost in a spaceless haze

Thoughts of wonder I hope, running through your mind
I smile slowly creeping over your captivating
Unknowingly it instantly lights up the sky

Your beauty at this moment overwhelms me
I promptly forget who I am, I too get lost in a timeless daze
The love we share I can never truly capture
Your beauty these words can give justice to
Just know I'll keep trying my love
Until my last breath
This words from my soul is true.
Aztec Cathrine Dec 2018
Depressions back for a visit.
It caught a Hold of Me and my fragile heart.
Once again-
Staring at the ceiling.
Wondering if my wounds are even healing.
Oh no, caught a Hold of Me.
Trying to fight it so my friends don't see.
Don't wanna lie.
But when they walk by-
there always asking if I'm OK.
I say I'm fine even though I want to die.
It Caught a Hold of Me.
Calling for help.
no one sees...
Except for you.
My one true friend-
Need help with depression? Reach out to your friends and family. Don't try to hide it or fight it on your own. Your not alone.
One day I was happily sitting and looking around.

With quiescence my heart said
To whom you are making dolt.
I have been of ill-temperament
in recent years. Impatient.
Angry. Inconsolable.

A nervous pressure wracks inside my head.
I feel wrongness, felt it long enough
that it's become an imprint.
I push people away, unconsciously,
No doubt to mask it: sourness, inner-hostility

and a great deal of pain; how did it start?

I remember how bad school was. Go back to May 2013
and you'd find a poem titled The Pyre. It's grim.
Rereading it sent shivers through my body.
How dark things were. Strange, that this darkness
should give me a glimmer of hope for the future, that it

gets better and I may venture; to open up to others!

I have hope, but there's a lot missing, much that needs
fixing, so many passing thoughts and minute behaviors
to adjust. I lost that thing I had as a child. My curiosity

is empty. My mind over-complicates, misdirects its emphasis
and struggles to sift through baseless emotions.
My soul is in the midst of decay.
What must be done?
MeanAileen Jul 2018
It must be so nice
to be as cold as ice
and live with a heart of stone.
No need to think twice
in a fools paradise
when your head is so overblown.

Existing so high
you can touch the sky
from your pillar of ivory and gold.
Everyday you lie
just to pacify
an ego which can't be controlled.

You don't play fair
nor do you care
who's heart you might break next.
Another sordid affair
caught in your snare,
treating women like they are objects.

You made love a joke
with vows you broke,
that golden ring is sure to rust.
One day you'll choke
on fallacies you spoke,
and your empire to fall to dust.

Looking down on all
like you're 12 feet tall
does not make you a bigger man.
Laughing as they fall,
watching them crawl,
forgetting where your own life began.

Just keep living in excess,
desperate to impress,
and surround yourself with cool ****.
Cause what you possess
when dead from stress
in purgatory, won't matter one bit.
island poet May 2018
“Moby ****,”  Herman Melville


~for the lost at sea~

after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence,
return to the island caught between two land forks
surrounded by river-heading flows
bound for the ocean great joining

the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools,
bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances,
peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls

sea accepts them then drowns the
warm newcomers in the unaccustomed
deep cold salinity, which
sometimes erodes
sometimes preserving
their former freshwater cold originality

I’m called to depart my beach shoreline  unarmed,
no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed,
walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom,
no depth perception limitation,
reading the floor’s topography,
millions of minion’s stories infinite,
many Munch screaming

god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders,
a daytime travel guide, hired for me,
not a friendly travel companion,  nope,
God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation,
designated for the masses, can handle large parties

my in-camera brain  eyes,
record everything for playback -
the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles

walk shore to ship, on soles to souls,
is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting?

puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness,
conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep,
is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence,
my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and
forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others

perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored,
older visions clarified and future poems
will write themselves
and sea to it my predecessors
be better remembered

Memorial Day 2018
Mims Oct 2018
There's things that I don't say
In between kisses
And bowls of ramen noodles
On weeknights

There's a quiet sadness settled behind the couch and on the inside of my ribcage during our twilight marathons
On the weekends

Things left
To hopefully be forgotten under the bleachers at your soccer games
I go to whenever I can

It hangs with your hoodies in my closet
In the pit of my stomach
It's small but I can't stop it
And it takes me out for days at a time

I see you every day
But sometimes I am distant
In a different way

It's been done to me
And I'm sorry I'm doing it to you
I'm trying to phase the disappointment that has nothing to do with you
Out of my life like cycles of the moon...

The stars are ours
And that is true
I've never felt like I do when I'm with you
But I tried to tell you
I don't think
You completely understood
You have never felt
Such a sadness before.

"What's wrong?"
"Is something wrong?"
"You would tell me if something was bothering you,


Listen to, in my mind by, dynoro while reading this. for the full effect
L B Jun 2018
I don't think about it any more
I take out the trash
Sticks caught in the crotch of a tree
The wind does what the wind does
breaks weaker branches down
does not care where
it leaves
on its invisible way

Days do what the days do
they don't count themselves
worthy as they go
to release
the afternoon
to evening—
an artless
to a low spot
where tears tend to pool
if I'd let them down

“You know,
in that low spot
out there...?”
Where it's hard to see
Where its hard to care?

They take heart
divide it by energy
for sadness—
I haven't got

Watched the clock go round
wipe out my little plans
with relentless hands

...and I never got dressed today
Ashley Chapman Nov 2018
In a playful vision sent
Your ****** homologue
Of amber shins and pale phalanges
Weaves four-leaved clovers.

In response,
***** spurs
And protean winged descent
To float into your kaleidoscopic star:
Freely falling,
To rest in lace extremities.

There in our bed of sensual feet,
Sunflowers breath,
Whose burnished rotating petals
Gather me in wisps,
Each spiral frond,
Before death's voids
Is drawn in purls.

And in pleasures held,
Cossetted in latticed limbs,
A ***** lustrous rich embrace;
Denuded and alive!
And with abandon kissed:

    Bony toes
    Deep arches
    Light and delicate.

As here between pretty shins
And fleshy silken feet
Our ascent begins
From low regions,
To scale new heights
And crown our night.

This lovers' leap into prismatic
In the empty Cosmic wastes
     In a web is caught!
Where feet and toes inspire
Continuity for pointed stars.

As material possibilities collide
The lust for life
Is born in non-existence:
So in our nest of feet,
Mating in the game
With heads thrown back,
Of lust drink deeply we.
A friend sent a mesmerising image taken from a kaleidoscope. In that image so many ideas came together that I was able to put this down. It tells of what I know, the line between life and death, or more succinctly put, between our conscious and the great unconscious. In mind, to love is indeed sublime as it removes us from ourselves and plunges us to meet our heart's desire. Out in the wastes of time and space we also see ourselves writ large where whole galaxies collide and in so doing, the resultant chaos, new stars are born. So I take solas in such thoughts, even if my soul does at times yearn to shuffle off this mortal coil and be at peace and know Truth at last.
Lizzy Jul 2014
This pink mass of mist
it glows when we touch
my waking has surrendered
it belongs to you
but the boulder
this crippling weight still sits

misty fog can't fly
can't float
never could
that rocky weight
it finally caught a cloud
and pinned it down

i didn't mean to show you
i never wanted you to see this
this amazingly heavy burden I carry
please don't let it catch your cloud

maybe I too often feel like a burden
only because I have lived as one
and this fear of being what I am
it adds ounces every day

maybe that's what I've been trying to get rid of
not my earthly weight
but the one that caught my cloud
Is that the one I've been trying to starve out?
This probably makes no sense unless you live in my brain
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