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ryn Sep 2014
Poetry moves from within our souls,
It's emotions pouring out
Covering us in rhymes and flow,
Like rain from the clouds

Infinite letters, words and phrases
In various permutations we play
Collaboration between heart and mind
Breathed into these pieces that we lay


Touching lives with our written form
Healing with words, what's poetically true
Freedom of expression, thoughts and ideals
Crying out in ink, until our sadness is through

Similar in thoughts but meander through individual routes
We all sing the same but to different rhythm and tunes
Inscribe our innermost but to varying worthy causes
We all draw inspiration but from the same loyal moon


A different form of art, yet art none the same
It's in the eye of the beholder, so they say
Poetry is life drawn in pen, it's not an erasable game
It truly breathes life, looking forward to each new day

**We proudly fly our diverse flags
United under one banner
We revel in words of poetry
In the hopes they'd last forever
Deeply honoured by the fact that the amazing "The Girl Who Loved You" would even consider a collaboration with me! Such an experience! Thank you TGWLY for this opportunity! Awestruck!
wes parham Oct 2014
Pour one under the table for those who walk outside.  In memory of Spalding Gray, for what he meant to me...
    Thanks, “Spuddy”, for sharing your inner life.   Thanks for having the courage to bring so many troubles into the light.  You laughed at your troubles and allowed us a way to laugh at our own.  You put a voice to carrying an unbearable shyness or an excess of fear along with us as we go through life.  You strived to care when caring was out of fashion and in short supply.  Thanks for reminding us that life is the journey, and not only the destination.  You wrote a book.  You played a minor role in a feature film.  Those were some of your destinations.  When you shared your journey, you did it with humor, humility, and with love.  Thanks for reminding me that storytelling is all around us.  Thanks for reminding me that it need not be complex.  You were merely observant during your journey,  and you shared it through the lens of your own perception.
    I learned this January that life became unbearable for you.  If only we, your audience, could have comforted you or somehow stemmed the river; the flood that carried you to leave so early.  I would like to believe that, once you died, you might be able to hear our collective voice.  I imagine that you are able to see the people affected by your work, some inspired thus to create works of their own; tell their own awkward stories, sharing them as you shared yours.  I am far back in the line, and I eventually arrive at your table.  You flip a page in your spiral-bound notebook and take a sip of water before glancing up inquiringly.  I only have one thing to say, really.  “Thanks, Spalding.  Thanks for sharing”.
Written after I learned of Spalding Grey's suicide in 2004.   His performances, full of a bare, self-deprecating and personal mania, touched me as they made me laugh.  They said, "I feel this ridiculous *******, too".  They said, "we get by anyway, despite the confusion, the fear, or the pain".  They inspired me to share some of my own self in personal narrative or poetry.  He wasn't any idol to me, I just felt his passing strongly since his own work had inspired me, personally, to live just a little bit more.  Life's a collaboration.
Sofia Von Aug 2012
Its all just words
No faces
No looks, no clothes, no smell
A simple connection

It could have been anybody

But it wasn’t

It started off as a hobbie
Something to keep boredom at bay

By now you’re junior olympics... At least

It can be as flawless as beach glass

Or jagged
and farspread like the trees still dieing

I never know what to expect
Excitement
Misunderstanding
Seriousness
Interest
Laughter
­Understanding
Awkwardness
Distracted
An idea
... Clearly I could continue

It’s like my little escape hole
A therapist that Actually understands and wants to
We just click
Alined by the sun
Some would say

But I dunno if that’s true
All I know is what I feel

Should I not feel what I feel?
Do I feel what I feel?
Is what I feel real?
Or is it fake

Is it a lie?

Or should I make it one

I don’t know what’s best
How can I

I’m new at this remember

All I know is the words of the known
Who are unknown to me in one world
And an empty chair in the next

I sit down and wait patiently

Until its finally my turn, here is where I’ll sit

There is no shame finding comfort in the little things the chair offers
Its smooth silky surface
The wine stain down the middle
the dots that resemble a smile in the corner

You don’t forget what you know so well
You open up your palm

A baby snake inside

He doesn't take it
He doesn't **** it on the spot
He doesn't grimace with disgust
He doesn't burst out in laughter

He picks it up
and cradles it in his hands

And sets it free

Back into the world where it belongs

And then he gives you a dalia

You take it and tuck it behind his ear as something to be admired

He blushes

He needs you too
Maybe

But its real
Almost too real

So you push it away
It’s impossible
It might not even be close to what you think it might be

Forget

And stay silent

Hey

We start again

A haha here
A smiley face too

Climbing up the uncertain mountain that has never been climbed before

The chance of falling high
But you like the chase

And for now
Its enough

You don’t really care if you summit anyway

A possible when
always dangling
Inside the clouds
Alyssa Underwood Jun 2016
O darkest night, what are you for?
Sometimes to wrestle, sometimes to rest
But always to cling to Jesus more

Though senses are dulled, desires awaken
Aching grows stronger, inhibitions are taken
Less seeing, less hearing, more hunger, more longing
Answers are dimming while questions are thronging

More drilling, more filling
The canyons of my soul
More boring, more pouring
Himself into the hole
More stretching, more catching
Away my gasping breath
More tearing, more sharing
In the union of His death
"But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them *******, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ--the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."  
~ Philippians 3:7-14

~~~
once privileged Oct 2014
Let me explore you
Let me adore you
I wish to hear.  
I wish to care.
You're a novelty
Better than any.
Stories untold.
Let memories unfold
Give me the chance
Let our minds dance
You won't regret
Don't you worry
Here you're safe
Let me know you
Let me comfort you
You're blooming
So vibrantly
The sun shine
Staring back at you
Open up to me.
Give yourself the chance
Let's share tears
We'll never forget.
I wish to care
Do you dare?
Kewayne Wadley Jul 2018
Before I knew it I ate half the bag.
Fifty pounds deliciously resting the bottom of my stomach.
I regret nothing.
Weighing my stomach with my hands.
I tried to save some.
Each piece more than the last.
Resting on the coffee table of her heart.
I didn't expect to eat as much as I did.
A decision made in haste,
I smiled.
Easily reaching into my own bag.
Replacing what I ate with that of my own.
Her pieces taste far better than mine.
Knowing that they belonged to her.
My heart rejoiced in knowing this.
My taste buds on the other hand longed for more.
Savoring the taste.
Ready to reach again.
Her heart, the sweetest candy I know
Never learn a gesture
that don't make one
believe they are above God ..!!

SHARING is gesture
which makes one understand
they are all one big family -
The children of God..!!

SHARE -

JOY
FOOD
LOVE
LAUGHTER
WISDOM
BLESSINGS
WEALTH
CARE

Make a better world for
All and Everyone

..!!

Sparkle In Wisdom
13 Jan 2019
Bill MacEachern Dec 2018
Were You To Be Gone

Could I carry on
Were you to be gone
I guess I can
But do understand

The skies would be blue
But have no more color
Not driving with you
Would lose all of its wonder

Songs would be noise
Losing all of its joy
Sunshine on Leith
Sounding more like a bleat

A walk through the mill
Would only be Bill
No longer as green
A whole different scene

Those rides to nowhere
Would lose all of its flare
I’d hear no more laughs
For my driving gaffs

Going out to eat
Would just be that
No longer sharing
Just me getting fat

Could I carry on
Were you to be gone
I guess I can
Be a man with no plan
Loss of love companionship and sharing
Abigale May 6
I shared with you
what made me so blue
the feelings that seep
from my heart and make me weep

sharing
(your feelings)
is caring
and because I care
I share
the fact
that

I Love You

(sorta ig but tbh idek what love is)
for some reason this is by far my favorite poem
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
O darkest night, what are you for?
Sometimes to wrestle, sometimes to rest
But always to cling to Jesus more

Though senses are dulled, desires awaken
Aching grows stronger, inhibitions are taken
Less seeing, less hearing, more hunger, more longing
Answers are dimming while questions are thronging

More drilling, more filling
The canyons of my soul
More boring, more pouring
Himself into the hole
More stretching, more catching
Away my gasping breath
More tearing, more sharing
In the union of His death
"But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them *******, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ--the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead."  Philippians 3:7-11
Tommy Randell Dec 2014
To loosen with my bare hands
the wide air between us
in explaining something of meaning
I almost feel
I am pulling flesh
from the living and moving moments
possible here.

It is somehow breaking
the natural order of things
to use words alone
of all viable means
in setting out the wind-waves and rivulets
of ideas internally flowing -
but I must try and get something out for once.

I circle in bad phrases
prickling with the itchiness of sharing,
I send out a few vague words
horrified and perplexed
at their translation now they are naked
knowing you too listen
and they are at last unalterable.

Deep in the brain, far back
this is my bad time
but I know where the roots go
down into me
and from the storm’s heart
perpetual agitation pumps hand in hand
with calm acceptance.
The self *****, alternately
to fan and to freeze
whatever doubts or unease are burning.
Talk travels the spaces between us
through the clear air
in the kind of silence
surviving bones may know swinging in a wind.

But I know stillness can become alive
when living mouths bring their hearts to bear -
ears can well hear
what the breath has to say,
as the eye sees
the body’s smallest noises -
face to face we are a field of listening.

The warm comes without sound.
This is only the edge of a becoming.
We are not trapped in the lips -
already we lean inward
to know of each other and to give
not words for the wind
but a dance at ease with all that flows.
Lilly frost Jan 2018
Hello there
You
Sitting in the corner grumbling about your health
Would you listen?
I need some help
It’s hard holding up the world all by myself
When you bother to look up do you realize my shoulders aren’t a shelf
You can’t pile things on top of me and expect me not to crumble
My legs are weak
I’m starting to stumble
May I have some support
Not your usual retort
I understand I must be stronger
I don't think I can hold on much longer
May I lay on you
Simply a word or two
Just a brief relief
A second of peace
If not I understand
But please would you take my hand
So I know where to go
On such a slippery *****
Where is the dry land
I'm being buried please understand
The weight in this muck
I'm losing my luck
Back bent eyes closed
Its up to my throat I have nowhere to go
Stu Harley Oct 2018
night
is
a place
for
sharing
the stars
while
holding
their
bright hearts
but
only
when
seeking God
Postal Leo Jan 31
The world is super ******* frightening, I'm scared of it all,
And I’m so high off fear, and about 4-6 adderall.
So keep to myself, stay quiet, and stand real tall,
Man, hope I don't get shot…

Is life really that serious, I don’t know…
But i feel like a toddler, trying to run half-time show.
Or maybe that’s all i want, and aspire to be,
But, thing is, can’t tell if I can run, or am even up on my feet.

I can't pretend to be thugged out, or a G.
I’m just stupid *** original me!
I escalate nothing to something, yet still act carefree,  
And am completely unbeneficial to society.  

I’m a complete waste of space, live with my Granny at her place,
Sometimes I swear I’m just an alien, hidden, among the human race.
And i had to get me a lady to convince myself that’s not the case.
And I give my heart to her, because we met through the fates!

And the fates will tell me yet again, if she’s meant to be my wife,
Haven’t put a ring on **** yet, but I blame my ******* up life.
And if she was cheating on me, wouldn't even be confused.
I would get exactly why you did it, but my ego would still be bruised.
sharing my poetry
is like ripping off a band-aid
to a gushing river of blood

thoughts and feelings
crashing, tumbling
across the rocks
that line the bottom of the river bed
Elisa Benaggoune Nov 2018
I don’t want to share my body
With you
I want to be with somebody
Instead of sharing
Every naked bit of
Myself
To someone who probably
Won’t fall in love with me

I don’t want to share my body
With you
Unless you want to get
That close to me
Without destroying me
Through the process
Of touching me,

Can’t we just kiss
Instead ?
I’ll learn about
The little things inside your head


I don’t want to share my body
With you
Until you want to be with me
For things other than,
Other than exploring
My naked skin
Against your small hands
Touching every part of me.
I want to learn about you,
Instead.
A poem about seeing someone and it being ****** and not really knowing what it means to them or you or if it means something at all?
Khoi-San Jul 2018
Extermination decapitation
Nocturnal obliteration
Armadillos anteater bafoon
Typhoon heatwave...
Grim Reaper
DON'T YOU KNOW?
No grave can keep Her...
Men march on as to heaven
Twenty four seven
Three Six five days
Ten different ways
Passionate professional
Daring sharing nurturing
Caring...Monsters within Minions
Amazing people aren't they
There is no substitute for hard work
Just observe Ants
There is no substitute for hardwork
Just observe ANTS not a lazy bone there
Imagine the Queen becoming A motivational Speaker?
emily mikkelsen Apr 2017
between the concrete river
& the park where the bums share a bottle
wrapped in a brown paper sack,

there is a cul-de-sac of plastic houses
holding hands & sharing manicured lawns
wooden cars that don't even make any smoke
drive down gray asphalt streets.

fathers that tell mothers they have jobs
wear down street corners sharing beers with the bums,
like they already are one.

all these paper families rubbing shoulders
until everyone has paper cuts.
going home to dinner around a table full of paper love.

suburbia is flimsy
paper towns shining white
smiling neighbors & shared lawns
paper people slowly falling apart.

couples with their tongues down each other's throats,
midnight in supermarket parking lots
dribbling beer in the backseat
they bought off the bums.  

they say,
I love you, I love you, I love you.
until she leaves for a paper husband
& he leaves for a paper wife.

now they live on two separate cul-de-sacs
with the same cutout love,
as the parents they despised.

& when they have kids one day
they will tell them
never kiss before driving,
never befriend bums,
or guzzle cheap beer in backseats,
or on park swings.
& never settle for a paper husband
or a paper wife.


remembering the love
that was flimsy,
but never paper.

100,000 miles away from where they grew up
& 3,000 miles away from each other
3 kids each & plastic houses
rubbing shoulders & sharing lawns

living in a paper thin suberbia
chafing under their paper love.
inspired by "Paper Towns" by John Green
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