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sandy gallagher Jul 2018
he will always be my heartbreak,
the muse that comes with every unsung melody
of a new lover.

he will always be the scar that permeates
through every touch
and piece of love that others give
now that he is gone and out of reach.

he will always be bittersweet,
and though i have moved onto better palletes,
i will always still have a taste for his words
that gave me the wings to write my own.
for the same boy i've been writing about since 2014
(i also wrote this within a couple of minutes w/o edits, please forgive me)
Doshi Feb 22
A pillar
spitting out poetry
as we exchanged our last words
unbeknownst to me
How comical
that we met at a place
called Make Believe
haley Oct 2017
The trail of a wedding dress
The flower girl holds with tiny fingers

We too hold the endless stain of blood
On white t-shirts
On nights that scatter blue trees over black heart
Alight by shooting stars
The mother tells her child
Unwilling to unlock the truth

The truth
The truth those stars
Don't grant your wishes
They grab them
With scarred scratching hands.

The damp stitches in the soil
Cemetery symmetrical to hospital
Those shooting stars circling
Like a vulture
Speeds towards dead carcasses
Still, the murdering star will not cease

To break bones
That have already broken
To take lives
That have already been taken
To burn
What is already charred

It smells like not your favorite food for dinner
It smells like having to do your math homework
It smells like burning books
It smells like gnawing on your own skin for feast
It sounds like tired, howling machines
Spurring and sputtering, never-ending their onwards trek

Swallowing distances and with it, nameless faces
Nameless places
For nothing has gone without the occulent scratching hands taking hold

Today the earthquakes of death
Don't make the land shake anymore
For it has learned to cope
With the desolate cemeteries filled with mute bones

Today burns like gasoline
Looks like intestines decorating destroyed doors
Today it rains curdled crimson

Tell me shooting star
If the child liked  jam on his toast
Did he snore?
Did he like math? Or english?
Shooting star doesn't know and neither the bombs.

As bodies fall from trees
like rotten plums.

The world was born in blood
And has not ceased to suckle its wounds
Endless blood thirst, Endless war
But not endless skin to bleed
Donna Jun 20
Today I woke up
and decided to paint walls
like clouds in the sky
**  ⛅️⛅️
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2015
be ever gentle to thy words
treat them, your tools, well,
cleansing and protecting,
wrapping them in cloths of chamois and moleskin
that they may be well conditioned and
pour forth with a temperament clear and viscous,
reflecting their high honors and a noble lineage,
they are well-intentioned to exist far longer
than your meager temporal life,
upon this ever hasty, ever perpetual, orbit

give them all respect, their fair due,
they are treasure immeasurable,
for which you have been granted guardianship,
custody received from others to be gifted onwards,
yours, but for the duration

so oft we trifle words,
expel them from the country of our body,
without passport and earnestness,
as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler,
day tourists, to be treated as leavings,
refuse for daily discardation,
barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance,
but leaving not, a mark of distinction

more truffle than trifle,
find them in the dark forest of your life,
use them sparingly, just for soaring,
take them from the roots of your trees,
shave them with a paring knife,
counts them in bites and measure them in grams,
even in grains,
for words are the seasoning of our lives,
agent provacateurs that can modify the moment,
bringing out to the fore
the flavor of the underlying

speak them slow and distinct,
for they arrive slow to you,
a trickling of refugees for your sheltering,
harbor them as full companions,
protected by natural law,
provision them well,
prepared and ever ready for a quick departure,
moor them at the embarcadero,
for the next restless leg of endlessness,
which they themselves will inform you
will last longer than eternity,
long after there are no humans to speak them
Oct. 6, 2015
Manhattan Island
Donna May 16
Today I’m just a
fallen petal blowing in
a warm summer breeze
Feeling slightly low today but it’s lovely that I can express and heal slowly through poetry, x
Loving my husband and children for always standing by my side and grateful to HP and all you lovely people **
Nat Lipstadt May 3
the spring mantra arrives with distinctive citified sparkles

a family of ducklings splash, mimicking young children,
shaking, spraying, squeaking, babies bath bathing,
jumping in and out of a fountain pool
of a tall-storied Manhattan apartment building,
the mother-leader attends them well for she recalls
the untimely end of the babies of last year,
lost to wanderlust on York Avenue,
cars and taxis as instruments of mass murdering,
but new spring is the season of new birth

the Cercis Siliquastrum tree trunk (!) oddly sprouts
unusual pink flowers
well before it’s branches grow up into a fully blossoming tree,
a signed spring time ritual, but since it is a/k/a, the Judas Tree,
we wonder if spring hints of Cerci Lannister’s fate betrayed,
in this, her final May dance, oh, which Judas brother/lover
will bring us a winter fin finale

the temperature control dial busted, the variability too wide,
the youngers are skipping the interregnum season,
going direct to elect shorts and T-shirt, while those who no longer bloom in the semi-warm, recall the wet chill of past evenings,
voting to dress defensively, wearing their aging skepticism
aware that all changes are exact crossing line-defined, wrapped in
medium weight coats, concealing embarrassing gloves in pocket,
decorative silk scarfs for non-decorative purposed,
all betting the under/over the spring is here all-in not yet sighted

the streets are busy, the momentary pleasantries
of warm sky and sun push the apartment dwellers out,
a magnetic force pulls us to the outside to exhale, in order to inhale,
guises manufactured excuses appear, a loaf of bread, a latte necessity,
the children desert happily their wintery confinement,
by pushing their own carriages, containing in their stead,
their lilting accented nannies, excited by their version of spring break

Me? toy shopping for this month brings rashers of birthdays,
more May galorey, singing come Dancer and Prancer, Ian and Isabel, Alex and not-a-baby anymore Wendy, and because the weather so pleasant, cautions ignored, the credit card swiped repeatedly, frequently and joyously, xmas reimagined, another May time ritual, rooted in the September month of *******, of staying warm, staving off winter *******, and winter planting for spring harvesting

children score grand-multiplicities for god made in his place
grand parental substitutes, each with two hands each equal,
so both must be filled with maypole ribbon, brightly colored
toy bags, presents wrapped in paper unicorns and all manner of
sporting *****, as we turn 2 and 6, 7 and who ate 8?

all that my eyes did see when we surfed strolled the streets,
vignettes fell like the spring rains, they, now, from daytime banished,
to after-midnight to do their breast feeding of tulips and weeds,
letting little children grow up snuggling in still over-heated rooms,
naked legs kicking off winter blankety snow remnants while dreaming of springing onwards and forward
into the party of life by inhaling nature’s

5-3-19  606pm
Chicken Dec 2018
Look here, to the East, the South, the West, the North....


Trust thy inner knowledge,
Power is placed within,
Take any which direction you choose,
For when you end, you will always begin.

And So,

Goodbye from the parts of you,
that do not know the soul,
They may choose to meddle a while,
though no longer can they control.

Your path unique, in divide dual,
an individual task,
Not one may interfere too long,
Not even those whom are masked.

So Forth,

Take some air and not hurry then,
Knowing you are on thy way,
Be eating foods just as mother Earth,
See the brake of dawn each day.

Take some water gradually, yet
steer clear of the water of fire,
firewater be the end of thee,
instrumental of setbacks, tis' dire.


Placing thy feet upon thine soil,
Souls of yours, not Nike,
Connect in self to the nature of hertz,
To calm a forlorn psyche.

When ye be ready, take flint and oil
Fuel your athanor fires,
Take the elixir sure to come, and,
be not afraid of the mires.
This is an epic by my standards. Enjoy, or not.

Firewater = High Proof Alcohol
Athanor = Furnace
ishaan khandpur Oct 2018
I've written of you,
A million times,
But never felt,
The lack of a beat.

I've spoken of you,
Like a villainess tyrant,
But never felt,
This taste of defeat.

My heart is gone,
The light is killed,
Darkness swarms,
A haze it fills.

I'll fight no more,
I'll always be yours,
But this love of ours,
Is your sweetest ****.

You ripped my soul,
You took it away,
You can burn it now,
It holds no weight.

Love is painful,
It's never around the corner,
But while I fight onwards,
You slipped in the blade.

The fault was mine,
I let you lose,
A treasure cove,
Invites the rotten few.

I loved you more,
Than I thought I could,
I let you fall,
From my grasp too soon.

My heart is gone,
It's buried deep,
What beats inside,
Is death's own keep.
The city flickers in the valley
while they sit on the hill 
where the Akrópolis
He sees the lights in her hair 
finds her really truly
captivated from that moment
onwards connected
She sees him in a different light
lays her tears in his hands
Too much beauty
fears too salty
She spills wine on her dress
He takes her back to the hotel
It is all alright and
It will be for a very long time.
Deep Aug 2018
So you are gone, I realized this tonight
At the thousandth night of our separation,
Stars glittering, Moon playing hide & seek
Same like the night you and I talked last,
How I hated change-
And how I found it at every step I took, is inexplicable.
The promises were not plenty to stay
Oaths were mere another words said in frenzy that
Washed with the first rain of the season.

All those texts that I wrote, stanzas I composed
Were not enough to win you.
I ask you; was I that bad?

I remember me; so different than now
Awake all night waiting for your call
to start talks having no purport,
To listen your gasps, kisses and breathe and yawn
Every moment felt like you were breathing unto me
Traversing miles, splashing on face
Warm in winters, cool in summer nights,
your breath reached;
Inhaling all, I stored it inside
Like a souvenir; to remind me how close we were once.

You said,
you “are weak in catching the hidden meanings
In my poems”. How ignorant I was to not listen
But if you were around now,
I'd explain those connotative lines
full with request and pleas,
I had typed in midnight emotions
tears gashing;
Only had simple meaning;
I long and yearn to live with you,
around you, beside you
every second.
If I’d known substitutes of hundred diverse
emotions spinning,
I'd have used it
to avoid your confusion.
But I didn’t find. My rotten luck!

Sometimes, I ponder
If you're there to see me awake all night for words
that can match you; your radiant beauty, then all
would have been different.
But you're not there to witness the devotion.

To my ill-fate, words carry only pictures
Reading depends on reader,
And you read it all different than I intended,
Maybe, it’s fault of my poetry
broken and stained in failure
Never achieved power to conquer you forever.

Every word I wrote haunt me onwards
See, the sorrow I'm indulged in,
When you have forgotten my existence,
and the love we shared.
Still, after all these years
I fighting with change
Waken all night
weary, tired, sleepy; Write you in poems!
ALC Apr 8
This world will throw road blocks in your path
Disguised as people.
People masked with love and honesty
Men and Women adorned with fair hair and a sparkling smile.

This world will throw boulders into your path
Marking you with kisses and scars
Swaying you to stray from your goals
Asking you to give up your morals.

This world will send storms into your path
To push you back
And off the road
To hold you down.
Though through all of this,
We continue to walk
To run
Away from their grasping hands
And through the pelting rain and hounding thunder.
Toward the horizon shining with the ever-present idea of hope.
-ALC April 8, 2019
Clare Coffey Mar 11
I am the warm air of spring
Heralding the time of rebirth
I caress the first shoots of growth
As they poke their way through the earth

I ponder nature’s resilience
As her landscape comes alive
I marvel at her citizens
And their will to survive

I dance over fields and rivers
Whispering to sky and sun
To all the hiding creatures
A new season has begun

I am the zephyr of summer
Come now and heed my call
Blowing sweetly from the west
The kindest wind of them all

Walk with me over hill and dale
Carpeted in joyous colour
Feeling my soft caresses
More tender than any lover

I will kiss your upturned face
Brushing it with rays of sun
Breathing warmth into your bones
Till the sunset says day is done

I am the wild gale of autumn
Stripping the leaves from the trees
Nothing withstands my fury
All bow to my desperate need

I whip the rain into torrents
Pouring water over all beneath
No quarter asked or given
I gift you the dying year’s grief

I move restlessly onwards
My dark tempests taking form
But the harvest is gathered
The bounty safe from my storms

I am the north wind of winter
Bringing the first flakes of snow
Scattering them with abandon
On the gardens and streets below

My blast is icy and chill
Freezing your toes and fingers
Sweeping away the last of the year
Not a single vestige lingers

Time for you to stay indoors
Cosying in front of the fire
Enjoying the comforts of home
Away from my insolent ire
A couple of days ago I got talking to a lovely lady about her poetry society - she invited my to go. The theme of the meeting is ‘wind’...
Amanda Mar 4
My toe
Is filled
With woe
Because one
Sad solo
Sock and shoe
With wet ice
And freezing snow
But I won't show
Or let anyone know
The cold I feel
Numbing me slow
I know
It will grow
But onwards
I go
I guess
My warmth
I owe
To this foe
I realized
Long ago
I can't or won't
Or say no
To chilly air  
That through me flows
Without fail
Stealing my glow
I suppose
I'm used to it though
This evil villian
That stays down low
My feet
I wrote this nine years ago!
Becca Nelson Feb 3
I don’t care
I have moved forward
Moved onwards
The shackles you placed
Shrugged off like an ugly jacket
Because if I was nothing to you
You’re nothing to me

I feel amazing
As if I could take the world
And place it in my heart
To protect all those who deserve it

I cannot hate you
I don’t have it in me
What I can do
Is never forgive you
And apologize for whatever I did
But what I don’t care about
Is what you have to say
You don’t know me
Only those who know me
Would know you are a liar
Who never cared for me
And decides to spread lies
To make himself look better

I’m just glad
That I can truly say
That I’m
Finally okay
Columbusphere Nov 2018
Splitting off like split ends,
Old faces flying backwards,
As you cut yourself a new hair-do
And put on shoes that match a grown-up attitude,
Which melts into your sofa and those pyjamas
Every evening and every night.

Skating onwards, to that place
With the good pay, good food, good vibe,
Except no one there's on your side.

Hovering dragonflies ought to breathe fire
And a ladybirds blushes rise higher
With the indignity you feel,
About the waste and the pace
And you start to hear the voices, you'd rather dictate
The way you move and your right to choose
Sighing mournfully at your brew, or forever
Walking the straight line.

But you want the mountain waves
Save the line, it's stuck,
Not many decide to cut it up and rearrange
The paths they take into shapes who change
And with manners grow up.

Letting time whistle through your fingers
The deep night sky
Stares back.
And you challenge him with a, why?
Is it that I walk in a line.

He winks,
With many eyes.
You know he's old, so must be wise
Beginning to push at your line
Unfolding a parachute
You can see all it brings
Letting you guide and move without strings.
a poem that keeps changing, because it feels scattered but I like the sentiment.

© 2018 Columbusphere All rights reserved
Yenson Sep 2018
Stinking Thieves and Degenerates thus proudly declared
We will drive you paranoid, give you ******* brain cancer
We will put hot things in your head, head lice they blared
We will plant dissenting seeds in your mind by our passers
Chatter and natter with toxic germination brain  furrowed

With poisons, fears and doubts we'll polluted your mind
We are the majority and we'll recruit followers in numbers
Build a pyramid of lies and hassles to hound and down grind
One tell ten and onwards, chinese whispers makes you to wonder
Peck like vultures at your life  with harassments that's unkind

In our putrid pond, caves and gutters a Grass is what you are
Goody shiny two shoes who stays aloof thinks he's better than us
Whistle clean, no crime or stains, how pompous, how you dare
Evil and destruction is our wont, purity is anathema go you suss
We'll sling mud, blacken you, weaken you and lay you bare

Go call your Jesus to save you, see if he dares tussle with the pack
The ******* cemetery is full of Saints who we've offered free rides
Showed them the Hell we make for good people before we wack
We'll get in your head and mind and trounce your soul with hide
We are knaves, criminals and reprobates and we have the knack

Yes, we burgled and stole from you, that's our trade, what we do
We are criminals not ******* Mother Teresa saving the poor
You work hard to acquire, we work hard to acquire, isn't it so
Then you chose to grass us up, ruin our trade and shut our doors
see what happens to upright and legit, jobless, lonely and broken too.!
Brother watch out, it could be you..............
Do unto others as you want them do unto you............
ktle Sep 2018
For the first time
In all my years of living,
I’ve felt what it’s like
To have your heart pound
So stubbornly within your chest
That everything in the world
Seems mute in comparison;
I’ve never felt so anxious and afraid
With the only antidote to my worries
Being your voice.

And for the first time
In all my years of living,
I’ve learned what it feels like
To leave all your emotions bare
And scattered
At the feet of someone you love.
And never before,
Did anyone bother to pick up the pieces
And keep them close to his chest
In a humble wooden box
Like you did.

For the first time,
I fight the elastic smile on my face
That snaps back every time you cross my mind
And even the monsters in the back of my head
Run away with just the smallest thought of

You’re the first
That I’ve been so open with.
You’re the first that laughs with me
At my own petty jealousy—
Hopefully because we both realized
That there’s no need for doubt

Since we’ve found each other.

And for the hundredth time and onwards
I will thank God everyday
That we did.
to the someone who is finally different than the rest
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