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L B Aug 2018
Pinto?

No, not the wild-spirited, color-splotched mare
with mane streaming like flames-thrown
behind in the wind
Taking desert inclines
with scuffing hooves on rock
catching her balance in mesquite
curbing?
The sage, dust
All
that nature throws in its pathway to knowledge
toward treachery of crosswalks?

“P-l-e-a-s-e  don't slow down!
Stop signs--?
”No!
Just keep going!
Don't slow down now!”

“They'll hear us coming
3 blocks away!”

Pinto?
Clogged carburetor--?
No one much-mentioned
rear-end inferno reputation??
A mere twinge in my signature
Woman-without-a-clue

“Hey, it runs, right?
Gets where we're goin'?”

Kids duck in back seat
so as not to be seen
In the cloud of smoke
We make our approach

Hiss Spitter, Belch, Pop
and--

BANG!

--Like a gunshot

Kids take cover
on street, in backseat
duck down
so not to be noticed...

“Oh Ma!  
MA!!!
Not right here!
Farther down!”

...so not to be seen
...by friends that matter...
in this ride
from hell!
Backfiring Beast--

“Friends”
skitter away
from what will emerge from the smoke and fumes
of high-risk-situation

Kids spill out through jammed door
to unexpected accolades
onto equality's curb
of laughter  
Public school's
wake of exhaust and relief

I drive mercifully away


Start of another school day
True. I swear!  Had this car for a short while in the early 80s when I went back to college.  It met its demise in a front-end collision.  Woman with no license ran a stop sign, plowing me into a utility pole.  The Pinto's reputation for fiery explosions burst across my mind.  I couldn't help but note the clicking hissing sound.  No time to think of my banged-up head.  Door was jammed, but window still rolled down, so I climbed through it in a skirt, no less, and ran.  Car was totaled.  If the collision had been just a little farther back, I might not be writing about it.
Debbie Brindley Aug 2018
My heart is breaking
Can you not hear
****** tears weep silently
today
life is to hard to bare
Through shattered shards
pockets of sadness
seep in
darkness creeps deeper
under my skin
Run from these feelings
but go where
My heart is breaking

This life's Harsh Lesson
Well yeah

IT'S HERE

In my face
Poking holes in my personal space
It hurts so bad when unable to fix
When life throws tragedy
into the mix
My heart is breaking
What can I do
Nothing
But be here
beside the one I hold true
Feeling sad
Egeria Litha Aug 2018
Hello, Waitress in the sky
So long her fear to fly
She throws the world a smile
bats her eyes in a wink she's gone
hurling through the clouds
calming others through turbulence
**** the corporate scene
Type A personalities acting mean
humiliating her in a board meeting
so she trades blue for green

Goodbye Waitress in the sky
trade her wings for a diamond ring
So long her need for speed
racing on the runway


She was flying with the birds but now
she's swimming with the fishes

Deflated dreams of broadening horizons
a-popped balloon and a rolling stone
nowhere to go but everywhere
Oh Lord, she won't get the answer tonight
Oh sky, give her the strength to fly
Oh Queen, find her a smart place to run
and that's why she took US 66 for a drive
Mohamed Nasir Jul 2018
Life is short, we all know
Whether we like it or not
Maybe good, bad or holy
One day we all have to go

Our children may query
Look upon a starry night
Of the trillions there's us
So why fret & why worry

For what else can you do
But to take it on the chin
The straights, hooks, jabs
 Life throws swing at you
stopdoopy Jul 2018
(In a vacant church Little Girl and Big Man sit on a parish
a few feet apart, in between them lies a book titled"My Feelings".)

(The curtain opens. Little Girl sits staring at Big Man. Big Man gets up and goes to the statue of himself in front of them for a closer look.)

Big Man: Will talking in person really make a difference?

Little Girl: I like to think it does.

Big Man:  (turns to look at her incredulously.) What wishful thinking, you're so naïve.

(Little Girl opens her book and starts to read aloud.)

(Big Man cuts her off with a noise every time she starts to say something until she falls silent.)

Big Man: Just as I thought, it doesn't change anything.

Little Girl: But you don't-

Big Man: (cuts her off again.) You just can't let things go, that's your problem. I told you I didn't want to do this, yet you dragged me out here. It didn't accomplish anything!

Little Girl: That's because you don't even want to listen or try to talk, you just want to yell and blame me!

Big Man: That's enough, this conversation is over. (Walks off stage right.)

(Little Girl screams in anger and throws "My Feelings" at the Big Man Statue.)

(The Curtain closes.)
I wanted to try something a little different! I've never written stage directions or a play before but I thought this would be a nice change. I didn't really convey the raw anger or passion, nor was it the scene what I originally wanted but maybe it's a step in the right direction. Trying out different styles is neat. Not happy with this piece though but... oh well.
Logan Robertson Jul 2018
there's a fisherman down by the sea
sitting on the wharf
watching the sun sink into the western sky
a frown frames his house
he looks out the window
at his pole, gear
and especially that of his net
emptiness
metaphors that weigh on him
uprooting his garden
a garden of no delight
one lonely row of forget me not
and regret
all wilting
his foundation
lost
never found or realized
he pauses
runs his hand over his pole
like a belt without any notches
his grip slipping into the abyss
as the last of the orange
sinks
bleeds also
at where the sea  meets the sky
where his day slowly turns to night
somewhere out there he sees his image
in nature's mirror
at his crossroads
for deeply
and some may say shallowly
he looks onto the sea one last time
and he means what he says
and throws his fishing gear in
tears welling in his eye
as he watches his teddybear sink
lips gurgling
seemingly asking why
... why
he answers back
there were no fish or bites
in his lonely sea
or wind at his back
... there
his window opens wider
the sea not singing or dancing
he sees the ambient light
correlations
... here

Logan Robertson

7/06/2018
If one reads between the lines the poem reads like a eulogy with a
harbinger to come.
Esther Krenzin Jul 2018
The ocean booms and rages
And something inside me stirs
at the wild beauty,
ancient power,
and feeling,
that calls my name.

The warm salty breeze caresses
my face,
and as the sun slips into the sky
silhouettes of birds winging their way
amidst the glowing darkness
enter my mortal vision.

I lay in the soft sand,
and pull some into my open palm.
Are we like sand?
Soft and pretty at first,
but once rain falls
and the world throws hardship
at us,
we become harsh
coarse
and gritty.

If so, we must learn to
accept that there will
always be rain,
And learn to soften into the
person we are
deep down.

Strong,
and yet still soft enough to
experience life's joys.

-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
You are strong. But it is okay to feel. It is okay to have strength that does not bow and does not break.
Andrew Oct 2017
When will this suspicion
Go into remission?
Splitting like nuclear fission
Is their miserable mission
So they poke and ****
Claiming I'm a fraud
Thinking they're my god
Which seems kind of odd
Because they know so little
And I know so much
I play them like a fiddle
Then eat them for lunch
For when it comes to raging rhetoric
I prove myself to be the better *****

They turn suspicious
So I become vicious
And treat them like *******
Because all of their wishes
Are of being capable witches
So they can morph me into a frog
Maybe then I'll hope on their log
And live the limited life they want
But they'll always tease and taunt
So my sensitive secrets I'll flaunt
To disarm their negative notions
Yet that's a never ending ocean

We live in a world of suspicion
With a hatred ignition
We live in a world that's a prison
A world that's sad to envision
Where everyone's a guard
And everyone is charred
By the judge
Who throws sludge
At the fragile mirror
To make hatred clearer

We must break the lawyers' locks
And sell their suspicious stocks
For when we fear one another
We don't hear one another
Communication goes
Suspicion grows
That's the flow
While we sit in our vaults
Hoping that this halts
But it never stops
In a world of cops
A world that's continually turning
While suspicion keeps burning
alex welsh Jul 2014
When my cells wont replicate themselves any more,
I'll have to bribe saint Peter on the door
I miss smoking lucky strike
I miss that my cat eased my troubled mind
I miss the weight of the world in my palm
I should have broken Crispin's arms
when I had the chance.
And when the rage that I have saved throws me overboard,
it best weight me down with cannonballs
because I'm a real good swimmer
I had all the awards.
Rafael Melendez May 2017
As I visualized people in my mind, and wondered,"Who are you?"
I felt a real person within my existence. I felt like a real person even if only for a moment, I felt like one of the others, one of the ones I imagine.
Yet, it's fleeting, it only comes when I feel the deepest sadness, when the rawness of this perception throws me into the ground, gets dirt in my eye.

She is in so much pain, and I can't do a **** thing because I am not real.
Ironically, probably one of the most realistic things I've ever written.
ryn Sep 2014
Life throws at us the worst practical pranks
Some call them challenges... I call them sick ironies
With challenges you might emerge victorious, and slide up the ranks
Ironies are just mean, bad jokes; locks with no keys

Call me godless, sad and trodden, bitter man
Call me a cynic, call me all including jaded
I've arranged it all in various permutations, much as I can
But my view at this point cannot be compensated

Allow me to illustrate...

•It's funny how you feel very certain or strongly
About the bog of sadness and depression you wade in deepest
You know it's real, you fan it with strength your mind could carry
When it could be better used to rise from when you're weakest

•What's this about having to crash to your fiery death
Into the realm of darkness; into the belly of hell
You'd have to almost die and lose your last breath
Before granted an epiphany, a slim chance that you could turn out well

•When life throws you in the deepest end
Fills your lungs with copius amounts of bad water
Tries to **** you before allowing time to mend
When if we were first taught to swim, it would've been much easier

•Sure... A treasure trove of splendours, life does offer
But like a spin of the lottery, you mightn't get even if you deserve
No matter how far you reach into it's elusive coffers
No matter how hard you worked to get ahead of the curve

•Life is like Christmas at times when it feels like giving
Like the gift of love much coveted by most individuals
Gives us all these fanciful things that need extensive assembling
But mischievously hoarding all the instruction manuals

•Fraught with grey areas and blind spots to fight
Presents ample opportunities to find the place that you'd belong
You go through shitloads of wrongs to get a right
And finally you think you're right, in actuality, you're dead wrong!

"More", you say?

•Friends during good times but not the bad
•The perfect red apple hosting a worm inside
•Faking a happy smile when you're deep down sad
•Putting our blind faiths in politicians we know who've lied

•Achieving superstardom only after death had ensnared
•Using heavy machinery to rid the Earth of impurity
•Shooting your mean motor mouth and wonder why no one cared
•Starlets dying for attention but crumble under scrutiny

•Health warnings on cigarettes but still sold for revenue
•Acquiring your sought after sports car but drive within the limit
•Promotions to idiots in suits who haven't got a clue
•Stretching up for the stars even when you know you'll never reach it

Well...

I could give more examples but I've typed enough
Life is but a game we're all playing; a circus we're all living
We can't help being helpless when unable to read and call its bluff
All we can afford is to keep siphoning water out of our boat that's sinking
I know I have been whiny in my recent writes. I also know that living a hard life makes you stronger... When life gives you lemons, make lemonade... Blah blah, yada yada... YAWN... SNORE... Zzzzzz. I know these already and I'm sure they're true to a certain degree. Just want to rant and complain. Please forgive my whining.
laura Sep 2017
the more she says daddy
the more milk she gets
puts a show on for her daddy yeah

takes shelter in a five million dollar home
licks her up in lapping waters
throws her in the tub fitting eight people

august burns away slowly
but these memories don't
and probably never will
Donall Dempsey Mar 2018
ANOIS TEACHT AN EARRAIGH
(NOW COMES THE SPRING )

- for Noreen -

Spring throws
a switch

and turns the flowers on
even the old stars come

to see
the newest season

and how
the world is getting on.

The blue ball
keeps on spinning

and we haven't fallen
off yet.

Birds keeping on singing
trying to tell us how

it is
but

...do we listen?
The title "Anois teacht an Earraigh" is from an Irish poem Cill Aodáin by the blind poet Antaine Ó Raifteirí (1784-1835). ;One of 9 children who caught the smallpox...it blinded him and killed the others. One of the last things he ever saw was the other children laid out dead.

He lived by playing his fiddle and performing his songs and poems in the mansions of the Anglo-Irish gentry.

His work draws on the forms and idiom of Irish poetry, and although it is regarded as marking the end of the old literary tradition, Ó Raifteirí and his fellow poets did not see themselves in this way.Raftery was lithe and spare in build and not very tall but he was very strong and considered a good wrestler. He always wore a long frieze coat and corduroy breeches.

All the Irish of my generation would have learnt this at school. The rousing Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile has almost the same line but it is the coming of summer and I often conflated them...whether it was the coming of spring or summer!  Ah well sure ya can have everything.

Such are the wee little things knocking about inside the head of an Irishman like myself...can't be helped!

I remember passing a little school one day and this wafted out in a myriad of little off-key voices and it was as if little flowers of sound flourished there in mid-air. It was a thing of fragile beauty and I plucked it from the Spring breeze and tucked it behind my mind. 40 years later it resurfaced and made itself known to the old man I had become.

But my now the world had gone on and it was a different Spring that wanted me to put it into words.

.But as we Irish have it: " Bíonn dhá insint ar scéal agus dhá leagan déag ar amhrán!"

Or to English it for you: " There are two tellings to every story, and twelve versions of every song!"

This is my version with its pale and almost see-through hope with only the Irish title hanging on in there.

This is the great Frank O'Connor's translation.

Now with the springtime
The days will grow longer
And after St. Bride's day'
My sail I'll let go
I put my mind to it,
And I never will linger
Till I find myself back
In the County Mayo.

"Anois teacht an Earraigh
beidh an lá dúl chun shíneadh,
Is tar eis na féil Bríde
ardóigh mé mo sheol.
Go Coillte Mach rachad
ní stopfaidh me choíche
Go seasfaidh mé síos
i lár Chondae Mhaigh Eo."

His most famous poem is his Is Mise Raifteirí ...again a beloved staple of a 60's Irish school day.

Is Mise Raifteirí an file,
Lán dúchais is grádh,
Le súile gan solas,
Le ciúnas gan crá.
Ag dul síar ar m'aistear
Le solas mo chroí
Fann agus tuirseach
Go deireadh mo shlí

Féach anois mé
Is mo chúl le bhfalla
Ag seinm ceoil
Do phócaí folamh

I'm Raftery the poet,
Full of hope and love,
With eyes without sight,
My mind without torment.
Going west on my journey
By the light of my heart.
Weary and tired
To the end of my road

Behold me now
With my back to the wall
Playing music
To empty pockets.

And here is the first verse and chorus of  Óró sé do bheatha abhaile!

’Sé do bheatha, a bhean ba léanmhar
do bé ár gcreach tú bheith i ngéibhinn
do dhúiche bhreá i seilbh meirleach
's tú díolta leis na Gallaibh.

Chorus:

Óró, sé do bheatha bhaile
óró, sé do bheatha bhaile
óró, sé do bheatha bhaile
anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh.

Hail, oh woman, who was so afflicted,
It was our ruin that you were in chains,
Our fine land in the possession of thieves...
While you were sold to the foreigners!

Chorus:

Oh-ro, welcome home
Oh-ro, welcome home
Oh-ro, welcome home
Now that summer's coming!
Nicole Dec 2016
4am
i never want to sleep again
i need to be awake experiencing everything
even if my only experiences are staring at the ceiling at 4am
waiting for replies, i never close my eyes

i never want to make friends again
everyone just throws me away
the cold night exists only in my room
my posters smile at me
they're all i have today
Donall Dempsey Oct 2018
WHAT A WONDERFUL LITTLE BOY

The view
gazes at him.

The landscape gathers
itself about him

as if he were a piece of pigment
in a painting a blob or blurr

of blue or green or
something in between.

"What a wonderful little boy!"
a passing cloud, pauses...muses

and says once more in case the hill
hadn't heard.

"What a wonderful little boy indeed!"
a tree agrees...winking...its leaves.

A river runs through him
alive in his senses.

The grass runs all over
the field tickling his naked toes.

Sunlight throws
itself at his feet

bows before him in all
its glory.

A breeze throws his hat high
up in the sky and

returns it to his hand
as if by command.

The clouds grazing now
upon a hill top

fascinated by his presence
how he has come to be.

"He makes us feel
so very much alive!"

One cloud nods
to another.

"Oh, there's a poet in him
to be sure to be sure!"

the river remarks
its voice clamouring over stones.

Time that sheep dog barks
but the clouds only luahg

"See how he lends us
his voice

in order that we may think
and speak.

Look I'm talking
in human words."

"Ballea...Ballea...Ballea!"
the farm shouts its name.

Again and again and again
the river exclaims

"Owenabui...Owenabui...Owenabui!"
sunlight dancing in its voice.

A bird stands stock still
upon the air

neither coming or going
just standing on nothing

as if it were a punctuation mark
typed upon the sky.

Time returns now
in policeman mood.

"Move along now...nothing to see here
move along now!"

And the landscape loses a voice
the sky its ability to see
the cloud has no words
the bird become a dot

only the sunset
whispers to an horizon

"What a wonderful
wonderful little boy!"
Benji James Sep 2018
Could it be
I've never seen
Beauty in me
Took time to reflect
On all that I am
I haven't shared everything I can
On this soul-searching road
The winds and turns
Each corner holds secrets
Each road taken holds challenges untold
Which road you choose is how life unfolds
Some are rougher, Sometimes it's smooth sailing
All the time I've invested in this world
I've come to realise
Each moment is just a piece strung together
In this story called life
I have no wisdom in my words
All I know is I've survived
Yeah, still alive.

Some would say I feel too much
Some would say, I'm too ******* myself
Mistakes I owned them
Haters I outgrow them
There's a whole lot in me
Only a few people see
A light that shines slightly through the cracks
I'm not all bad
And all this strength gathered
Has taken me to heights
Others couldn't imagine
Like a lighter, a little spark
Can ignite a torch
Revealing truths in dark corners
It's all these things
That makes me a lyrical philosopher
Through these lines I conquer

A man made up of scars
Each marks a tale
Each a reminder of lessons learned
I've been through the ringer
Still standing, And I'll still fight
Until my last breath drains all my might
No matter what the world throws my way
I'll always say...          
"Challenge accepted."
Never gave up
I still dream
I still fight my way
Through each day
No matter the odds stacked against me
I'm a raise my head accept the challenges met

Some would say I feel too much
Some would say, I'm too ******* myself
Mistakes I owned them
Haters I outgrow them
There's a whole lot in me
Only a few people see
A light that shines slightly through the cracks
I'm not all bad
And all this strength gathered
Has taken me to heights
Others couldn't imagine
Like a lighter, a little spark
Can ignite a torch
Revealing truths in dark corners
It's all these things
That makes me a lyrical philosopher
Through these lines I conquer

Nothing is going to hold me down
I'm going to dance like a warrior
All these bad habits couldn't be sorrier
All these battles I've won
Some left me scarred
But through this my skin became hard
Got a thick skin, Never cut through it
Got a good heart, shines through in my art
Belief only takes you so far
Have faith, it'll take you beyond the stars
They say wisdom can't be found in bars
In unlikely places, you can find yourself
And accept it is all you are
All that you've become
Water washes over me
Setting me free
All this dirt cleansed from me
You haven't even seen the best from me

Some would say I feel too much
Some would say, I'm too ******* myself
Mistakes I owned them
Haters I outgrow them
There's a whole lot in me
Only a few people see
A light that shines slightly through the cracks
I'm not all bad
And all this strength gathered
Has taken me to heights
Others couldn't imagine
Like a lighter, a little spark
Can ignite a torch
Revealing truths in dark corners
It's all these things
That makes me a lyrical philosopher
Through these lines I conquer.

Don't make me a role model
That I can never fulfil
All I wanna be is an Inspiration
Show people if they stick to it
They can make it
They won't fail if they fight tooth and nail
Revealing truths through poetic paragraphs
Silver linings rising, capture lightning in a bottle
Hard to contain, just striking in ways they don't expect
In life, you'll realise your blessed
If you take a deep look around
And all that surrounds us
Just shows that you can achieve
Be anything you want to be
And all I choose is to just be me
Open up your heart to see.

Some would say I feel too much
Some would say, I'm too ******* myself
Mistakes I owned them
Haters I outgrow them
There's a whole lot in me
Only a few people see
A light that shines slightly through the cracks
I'm not all bad
And all this strength gathered
Has taken me to heights
Others couldn't imagine
Like a lighter, a little spark
Can ignite a torch
Revealing truths in dark corners
It's all these things
That makes me a lyrical philosopher
Through these lines I conquer

©2018 Written By Benji James
Lynn Legend Sep 2015
Get up out that bed
Slip out that depression
Everyday you wake up is a blessing
Life ain't over

Pick your head up smile
Get it together
Sitting around miserable
Ain't gone make it no better
Tuff times don't last
they only make you better
Life ain't  over it

So he cheated on you?
Your friends turned they backs on you ?
Life ain't over

Social media got you tripping
Like you ain't worth ****
But in reality
The ones stunting
Be broke as ****
Life ain't over

The world is changing
You just now seeing the facts
Life ain't over
Ain't no app to get it back

You was put here for a reason
They only here for a season
Life ain't over

Make a deference today
Life ain't over
**** how they see it
do it your way
Life ain't over

You keep your eyes on the prize
But give God the praises
He's with you at all times
Even when life throws you mazes
Life ain't over

-Lynn Browning

Lynn Browning ©
Life ain't over!!
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