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Melissa Meagher Jan 2011
Love, I know it is here. It surrounds us all. Yet, it still seems unreachable. Everyday I reach for the branches of the trees but they are too far, too high. The leaves stare at me from above, lingering, but eventually fly by as if they are saying goodbye.

The mud below tries to pull me in and I run. I run past it all. I run through the tall trees and hear empty noises scream at me. But what do they say? What do they want?

I listen more closely. They say nothing. I keep walking until I reach the end. There are no sticks, no brush from the trees beside me. The trees are too tall, and the mud, too drowning. The screams, gone, I am without leaves, without branches, without noise. I am just, there, torn.
Amanda Aug 2018
Let go of the problem weighing your soul down
Lay your head on your pillow; rest
Listen to insightful words
Let my advice help you do what's best.

Slowly moving between dark realms
Tingling with faint apprehension
Entranced, stumbling in a clouded stupor
Ravenous greed beyond my comprehension.

What will it take to open your eyes?
Days are fading fast
Insecure about how many tomorrows you have
Or rather, how many you lack.

We have little time on Earth
I am screaming but you won't wake up
Hearing same opinions repeated
Broken spirit remains stuck.

Center of your universe
Drugs have your mind caged
I cannot tell which parts are real
Which are perfectly staged.

Your forgery is well-crafted now
The world is starting to see
The way you live not good or right
To speak then act differently.

Could I aid your hand somehow?
Each attempt met with resistance
Say the same phrases each time
From each other grow distant.

Honestly it has been over for awhile
I have given our love my all
Though I wish we could be together
It hurts too bad to sit back and watch you fall.
Its painful to watch an angel fall
PoserPersona Jun 2018
I.
The moon sings the languid flower,
  to bloom at midnight hour
Harmonious feast transpires -
  luminescent choir

Pedals mirror la hue de Luna,
  but pale below her glow
Though the desert sweet aroma,
  is fragrance plus photo

Neither causing nightly failure,
  in idyllic charm
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

II.
The moon a long gone distant rock,
  yet pulls on ocean tops
Cereus lures with sweetest tricks,
  and stings with countless licks  

Battered holy asteroid face,
 woos flawless solar gaze
And even though it causes mire,
  lunar eclipses fire

The cactus thrives in driest sands,
  and chokes in fertile lands
Alluring lonesome wanderers,
  promising mere water

The lucid beauty bewilders,
  as much as it can haunt
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

III.
You, once my cereus and moon,
  were drowned in my love well
Perhaps, I was this to you too,
  though your hole I’d not delve

However, what was first velvet,
  morphed into devil’s horns
Winter shed those thorns in my chest,
  now spring gifts hope and more

The icy grips of each winter,
  provides spring fuel to spark
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

IV.
Although we have gone our own ways,
  I wouldn’t change the past
For each step was necessary,
  to find true love at last

We were once greater together.


I’m now greater apart.
lulu Nov 2018
You were my cigar,
a very toxic one,
you were waiting to be lit.
I was your lighter,
i was hoping to see a flame.
We burned,
intensely,
brightly.
But now all that's left is smoke.
'our love has burnt.'
so, i thought but no.
Adam Jan 30
My smile seems to have been misplaced in the past month
It treats me more like an acquaintance now
Stopping to talk every once in a while
But never wanting to get in touch
A horror movie scene as the heroine escapes.
Everything is still besides her convalescing breath and the distant, chasing wind.
Not a noise is heard except the fall leave's rattle and the birch wood's moaning bark in the moonlight.
Her body slouches into the protection of a lone shed, and shrouds itself in the aroma of cut grass.
A tense brow relieves and tired eyes close, thankful to receive the momentary peace.

A possible misstep turns the wary peace on end with the jagged cut of broken leaves. The once relieved brow now concedes surprise as wild eyes are cast towards an opaque barricade.
Sly pieces of garden equipment leash a weathered jacket in place as she attempts to stand.
A cackle is heard, a shriek undone.
To spite the brittle wood, that formulaic jump-scare-skeleton-hand bursts through the shed's solicitous walls, set to declare the last of a weary soul as his own.
The wind catches up and spearheads any hole it can find.
It begins whistling around the dim room like a tornado elated to havoc behind a castle's walls.
The tree bark howls, the leaves, now delight.
We learn there is no reprieve for a begging champion.
The camera slowly backs out of the splintered hole, and pans over a silhouetted forest to face the waning moon.
The hero succumbs with muted screams to a gore far below and out of frame.

Our only closure, a somber black screen, with bright white letters, slowly scrolling up.


The end.
Just something I had fun writing, figured not posting it would be a waste despite it not being "poetry", just an experiment I guess. I feel like it would be good, in like, a high-school, short story competition. *****.
CK Baker Dec 2016
six lanes
in a sight line
past the cedar shims
and trim tempered insert
past the washed murals
and water stained tiles

covered eyes
fight for focus
over cork strung ties
and dark, distant bridges
foot crawlers on lemon pegs
teaming
under clouded halogen light  

dreamers contend
in a variation of chant
(thrown off in a
complex drawl sequence)
a glimpse of the guard
and warm towel assignment
forge comforting relief
in a task filled day
Woody Jun 2018
I still dream of my father
crossing the pastures
on his one-eyed tractor
mowing acres of sorrow
heading east of a moon
that'll be gone tomorrow
turning one last time as
if to say: so long my son
there’s going to be days
of sunshine and plenty
more of rain as he went
along his way, and my
sadness waved back like
grain in fields of long past
summers and summers
before that, so long a time
ago I can remember only
on lonely nights of heat
lightning and the low
rumble of distant thunder.
A nice surprise on this Monday evening.  Thank you all very much for your reading and very nice comments. Please know that I appreciate all of you and your kind words. Thank you.

* To Ravinder Kumar Soni: Opinion entitled to and noted. Thanks for taking the time to read.
AmeriMav Dec 2018
Tears, words, and thoughts fail
To give the whole of my soul
Only shadow like
I want to be so near you
That my own heart breaks with yours
A tanka
CK Baker Apr 2017
Sunday sermons are spilling on the inner city streets
through the green heaps and brown bags
through the downtown whisperers
and sage solitude souls

Army bands prepare for march
their trench members filling packs with canister and cane
the high command and tricked militia head pinned
quick on the look for splinter, lorry and skuttle

Traffic patterns change at the COP connect
camouflage bearers break formal stride
battle men slip between colorful floats
unsuspecting slumlords (vein pricked and weary)
grin in their second suite dying rooms

Twitching men and rubbernecks
sit discreetly on the corner wall
JJ and the chief revere a 21 gun salute
holy rollers raise cheer (in a moment of silence)
chess men hold steady
with ivory cues

Flames belt from the distant sanatorium
streets are alive with crackle and dust
members of the attic group glance down from their glorified perch
an elderly man in a straight jacket (happy in the now)
sits solemnly in a cold reflective stare

It’s not far from the steely mud holes
from the flying fragments and pierced broken dreams
from the arsenal digs and madmen (who quietly turned the *****)
the ivy trellis
and flowing white gown
is a nocturne fit
for this elevated rolling highland
Zeleyha Mata Jul 2018
You call me
She, Her, Daughter, Girl
Shhhhh...
You speak with a blind mouth,
Look at me, see me
She isn't me,
Only a fantasy that you clutch till your knuckles grow pale.
I'm not broken, I'm free
But you hide behind a veil
Afraid to finally let go of...

Long hair, Lipstick, Lace dress
You question each time I show you my truth,
"Are you trying to hide your femininity?"
No, my femininity is simply not my definition.
Spend a day in my skin, in my cage,
And don't cry when the words start to pierce you like daggers,
Shhhh... Stay silent, don't worry, it's just a phase.
Now do you see that "She" just doesn't make sense?
You speak to me but your voice seems distant,
Bouncing off of me and echoing
Like I am the hollow statue of the girl you used to see.
"I am right in front of you, you know"
But my words are only heard when they come from her lips.

Mother, Children, Wife, Woman
A silent prayer each night for all the things I am not,
Stomach swollen, hair to my waist
The glow of an expecting mother on my face.
Curves, not edges,
Pink, not blue.
Delicate hands grasping the man who stands in my place.

The man who has...
Pants swollen, hair to his brow,
Along his jaw,
Down his legs,
Sprouting from his toes.
Bulged, Buzzed, Boy
Blood on his sheets, not between his legs
A beautiful girl lies beside him
Fresh coat of gel and cologne,
Swirls of shaving cream.
Bare chest, scars, burning skin
Twitch of an Adam's apple when breath comes short,
Nervous fidgets with a tie,
tick tock,
"Pick me up at eight"
"Treat her right" "I will sir"
"Will you be my..."
"You're going to be a father!"
"You are the best daughter we could have asked for"
...."Son" I whispered.
But you didn't hear,
Maybe one day you will.
Any one who can relate to this but can’t say it, I hope I can be your voice.
Adrian Betz Jun 2018
Tell them soon I won’t be home this night
And relieve me of the burden, the bitter farewell
Comfort them, a calming voice such as yours
Will be all it needs to keep sorrows away

Tenderest tides, so timelessly fleeting
A yearning verse with an endless story to tell
Purple moonlight, the shores of a cleansed sea
Woeful the sighs sung to the horizons afar

Eternal solstice
Harbor of the distant, pale blue sight
Come under this softest blanket there to see
Where the tale of the first scribe came to be


Separate seams holding the same cloth
Then I saw my closest company wake
Fear not, still, before you I will hold my world
Hand in hand with my messenger, my friend

Snow-white stairs, a valley of figurantes
A stellar choir with the quietest piece to play
Come now the breath of a warmly greeting fall
Inviting me to witness the cycle begin anew

Eternal solstice
Harbor of the distant, pale blue sight
Come under this softest blanket there to see
Where the tale of the first scribe came to be


Sing me to sleep with peaceful times
Another one then might finally begin

Eternal solstice
Harbor of the distant, pale blue sight
Come under this softest blanket there to see
Where the tale of the first scribe came to be




©2018, Adrian Betz
Julia Hones Jul 2018
Your life is made of distant springs and falls,
a straight route is not
what you own
for hurricanes and storms divert your path
to new horizons.

Will you find horseshoe *****, mussels, clams
on the stopovers?
Food awaits you
if the shores are not ravaged
by human greed, ignorance.

Your resilience is written in B95's ordeals,
a mosaic of adventures ingrained in his own cells.

The threads of your trips assemble
the places of Mother Earth connected in its roles;
nothing is detached in the collective harmony of souls.

Red knot shorebird,
peaceful messenger,
icon of strength without rage,
your story is the universal flight of awareness
waiting to be heard.
Red knot shorebirds are endangered birds due to human greed and ignorance. B95 is a survivor who has traveled the moon and halfway back in terms of distance.
Silverflame Mar 2018
A loaded gun behind the perfect shot,
infiltrate my mind with memories I forgot.
Pills and potions couldn't help ease the pain,
the man with the mask I can no longer keep sane.

And in the bleeding sky I saw,
scars I've encountered once before.
The depth is scary, but I can't look away,
I dive and drown in this red ocean every day.

I close my eyes and hum a song,
trying to outshout the things I've done wrong.
It's a suicide mission to try and win this fight,
so I'll just get lost with the strangers of the night.

On the gleaming tracks I run with no goal,
its just an endless journey within a distant black hole.
I'm just a fraction of something that could've been great,
but, I know it's too late to change my bulletproof fate.
Totally shrouded in stark memories,
within the walls of echoing voices;
My bones are chilled and frozen now,
while remembering painful choices.

The sunlight fading into dusk,
with purple streaks of a bitter sky;
As one final ray of amber light,
gently streams into my tearful eyes.

The porch where love had been professed,
lay paint-chipped and desolate in gray;
My words are stuck inside my throat,
I struggle but there's no more to say.

And while the Autumn breezes blow,
through the bronzed and wistful trees;
Their sighs will carry our old sweet song,
among the damp and trembling leaves.
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