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Jamie Jul 2013
I wonder if you think of me
As I do of you,
I wonder if you miss me
I'm such a fool,
I wonder if you'd ever tell me
What I've put you through,

Soon I will be just a memory
Of someone you once knew,
As I fade away know that,
Once upon a time
I loved you ...
Did you ever love me too?
September Roses Feb 2018
Brighter than the blinding flares of the sun, shimmering outward with power of thousands of stars
yet comforting
yet soft.
Filled with oceans crashing and wild, turning over ships, rushing under a powerful storm.
yet still
yet calm.
Filled with wonder and curiosity, yearning for the unknown, desperate for enlightenment
yet wise
yet content.
Eyes so wide, so deep, filled with delicate roses, the power of mighty warriors, elegant as the flowing dress of Venus, filled with souls of thousands, with passion, with yearning, with desire.
Filled with beauty
Filled with you.
ryn Mar 2015
Wonder if when constellations do align
And universe would finally see.
Would it be presumptious of me
To claim that then, finally you'd be mine.

Wonder if my sense would triumph over
So that my heart would be muted.
With all its contents looted...
Would I only seem sillier?

Wonder if I walked away
In due course.
You'd then take my hand in yours
So that a minute longer I'd stay...

Wonder if you'd understand
When if these feet
Should choose to retreat...
That they had to... It wasn't planned.

Wonder if it'd make a difference
If I said that I had to...
Not for me but more for you.
Would we still be able to love in silence?

Wonder if you'd wish that you made it all clear.
Before the gravity of reality would crush us,
Before the vastness of uncertainty swallows us,
Before my presence would diminish and inevitably disappear.

Wonder if you find my pessimism exhausting.
The volatile nature of my moods...
Especially when I dive deep in solitude
And resurface with a trove of words that are no less than exasperating.

Wonder if you loved me enough
In a day...
To stop me from walking away...
Or loved me too much to plainly say

That...

Future's days would see us apart...
Future's moon would glow but not for us...
Future's stars would sing but not of us...
Future's sun would dry out the passion in our hearts.
Shofi Ahmed Jan 8
Every atom is lenient towards the human being
streaming up from the deep root they spur
laying down the perfect descending of the stars.

They can take on the stellar in their deep club
that shows up opening the windows up in the sky
and down on to the earth cast their eyes!

The slim fit sharp atom knows all the shortcuts
constantly vibrating not a single star can catch nor will it ever
thin out – it has the extraordinary stroke of luck.
But the eyes are on the humans not over the amber. 
Dreaming to be physically absorbed within the human being
to be in the human’s divine proportion ever transcendental
a far cry from the sun and the moon but with it both gel together! 

Once they came so close almost touched the dream
they rose to the occasion, squaring the circle,
laser scanning through, as above so below, so humble.
Submitted them without waxing lyrical took the brush off
the colour bowl of the day then blindfolding the moon
in the night reached out to the paragon of the phi mania,
flawlessly made to measure, numerically perfect Fathima!

Presented themselves before her as pure blank
whereon she can jot like her chalkboard
or do as she please like she could show up
taking it as her shadow in silhouette, she exactly did that.
Touched down on the earth, in the veil
and revealed her as above so below.
The ocean moved stirred the water but none saw the sunshine
behind the full moon in bloom that steals the starry night.

Day in day out Fathima did all in a veil she lived and gone.
Keeping the atom on its toe ever honing tracing the footprint
in its own shadow as once a human being without a mark
crept in it lived in pi magic and leaped out!
Marco Buschini Dec 2016
Lie within chaos, and create comfort
In visions of endless love.
Riding slowly on the crest of a morning fling, and flutter,
The body stutters
Like a street dancer.
Shine in different directions
And end the yearning
For a love of creativity
By stripping off
And darting
Into a sea of uncertainty,
with a sense of
Unimaginable lust for what keeps you
Ticking like a sturdy clock.
Find the rhymes that combine
With what lies inside the mind,
To stumble upon the future pleasure,
That you unearth with delight,
As you wonder.
Inspiration is born out of desire.
Fuel to fire the birth of creation.
The mind quakes for a taste
Of the cake, that is blessed with greatness.
Do you ever wonder
if the painter
tires of his colors?
Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
Clarifying failed. Spelchek is not on strike.

{clear ification, an ionic bond be tween me and thee,
alienated mind, not mined, crafted
from tactics and strategies
beyond chess.
Player One,
1980's era
jewish-geek-mid-pubesence-kid-level,
proceed with caution.
This trope has trapped many a curious child.
---
Now, enter the old ones,
Grandfather taught uncle chess so well
he went to the state tournament in Kayenta,
and a grandma was
state-champ-bare-bow-in-the-rain-shooter,

these, now must learn

minecraft on x-box to be considered
for the real life role of

good at games grand parents
from the time right after atom bombs kicked up dust
places dust had not been in a very long time and
as the dust began to settle

some dust mights was cationic.
Negative bits, they became embedded in the code.
Bumps, fering, coming together
just a knot in a string,
attracting anionic curiosity might

round and round phorward ferring to be
a thread to tie my heart to yours

like twisted Pima cotton thread,
that I pulled from an old sweatshirt
to tie a crow feather in this paho of words filled with old jokes

Making this clear would belie the entire story AI and I know true}

truth is. we agree. no capsokehspaceasneededcommasetal.
caps okeh space as needed commas et al
go.
Did that work? That line

subject of this act fact done, agree to follow,
and I may lead and be

not you, me, dear reader, I mean first true

there is no any if nothing is. So simple some say its sublime beyond the spectrum of ones
and zeros thought on off probably

either or any time time can be accounted for

wouldn't you take a

thought,  nothing,
as it is commonly said to be understandable,

the state of not being, imagine that

the state of not being we negate in being,
unless you are mad and are lost in a whirlwind
such as such voices have been said to

have twisted into threads as
wicks for our lamps
turn floating on
golden oil twisting
wickered into wickering wee shadow fibers
on the western wall for legends to sprout from.

Wickering mare over there, expands us both by my hearing her
you had no idea she was near enough to hear
time is no barrier in actual ever.
What phor can contain me,
whispered my whimsy

Imagine she spoke,
what would she say for what reason
would she say

good good good, I feel good, ha,
I am right, by accident. ever body can feel this good.

good is good.
good is.
Sam Harris, agrees, good as far as good goes, is good
in every vecter from now

the terrain does exist, beyond the moral landscape, to

true true
trust me, I been there.
Been there done that was inserted into the vernacular on my watch,
first summer post war.

matter must not matter as much to me as it does to thee, nestypass? no se?

All jewish boys have chess move metaphors.
(a phor is for containing,
bearing
meta,
everybody knows, like metaphysics,
after physics in the stack of stackable metadata)

OHMYGOD THE IDW circa 2018 -- who knew I ate this **** up?

[the old code calls for excretion of digested material
from which meaning has been extracted in the idleword accounting processor:
literal
<pre>what if utterance=****, then **** haps, no else then</pre>]

Did that happen? One of my friends told me that happened in Florida, the whole world turned to ****... for lack of a nail a kingdom was lost, they say, little foxes spoil the grapes,
hung chad ex
cuses...

Pre-expandable ROM, not magic. tech,

pre-infinite imagination? impossible.
and nothing is what is impossible with good as god.

Is there no perfect game?
is the game the session or the life of the user
offline

rerererererererererereroxotoxin, poison pen
ideal viral umph exspelliered
up against the wall

reset. We

kunoon albania omerta oy vey, who could say?
one way better, one way not? quark.
up or down, with variable spins, who can say?

Life's right,
yes. but mo'ons of other something must have been for higgs to ever matter

and it does, I got commas, from 2018.

Are you with me? This is that book I told you I had access…

You or some mind other than mine owned mind, where
my owned peace rests in truth,

otherwise, I know every any or else in the code since I can recall,
in time

if this were a test I swore to take to prove to you
the we can be me in your head

phillipkdicktated clue

if you don't know me by now, maybe we should stop.

Temptations are times. Time things. Time spans, yeah, like bridges

or portals, right
The Internet in One Day, Fred Pryor Resources,
Wu'wuchim 1995.

Ever, not everish or everistic or every, but ever
body knows,
but you.

Catch up. We left all our doors blown off, once we learned that we could blow our own doors off,

there are no open sesames or slips of leth or sibylets

shiba yah you knew all along there was a
song she sang all one and we watched it morph
before our very eyes

alone.

The magic stories words may contain, may bear, we must agree

more than we may know, by faith, metagnostic as we see

the sublime gift of the magi
become clear und

be und sein sind both trueture same tu you, we agree.
But. Lock here, no pre 2018 editing codes

validate past last go.
Do one good thing today. That was my goal. Today https://anchor.fm/ken-pepiton Part 3 Soyal Hopi Mystery Enactment (called mystery plays). And the intro to Moral Landscape by Sam Harris, led me let ******* write a poem.
charley gwenn Mar 2015
i wonder, when you think about me
and all the things you think i was, and did
do you remember
that i was seventeen?
do you know that you traumatized me?
do you know that there is a year
that i don't remember
because of you?

i wonder, when you think about me
and visit all my old haunts
lurking, looking for a weakness
a nearly healed wound
to open back up again
i wonder, do you still see me
as the predator
and not the prey?

i wonder, when you think about me
do you remember
what really happened
or just what you told them?
have the lies transformed
changed shape, through sheer will
and become the truth?
what am i to you?

i wonder, when you think about
what happened in southern california
do you remember my words
my trembling body in your arms
the tears that never seemed to stop
the photos you cropped me out of
or just the things you'd decided
that i'd done?

a painting knocked off the wall
while i slept on the couch
that i couldn't have reached standing up
a statue that i did my best to fix
the ***** in the sink that nobody saw
the nine panic attacks that just had to be fake
do you even remember the truth?

i wonder, when you think about me
in the night, wherever you live now
do you still hurt, deep down
like a scar that never healed
do you carry regrets in your heart
or is there just the satisfaction
that nobody will ever know
what you really did to me?
Tammy M Darby Feb 2016
Why poets are overcome by the need
To scatter words across the universe
Many wind-blown seeds.

To splash their sadness on paper
Paint black their rage,
A sea of raw emotion
Where melancholy rules as queen

I often wonder
If they ever desire to escape
From the fantasy worlds
Sometimes willingly created.


Relaying their loves, dreams, and trysts,
Oblivious to the reality
That in truth they don't exist
They are after all only a projection of light in the dark
  Simple words of the poet.
The artist of thought.


This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M Darby  2/3/2016
A Sad Alex Aug 2018
I wonder if you dream of me
If you remember me at all
I dream about you sometimes
It´s all I have since you are gone

I dream of us alone
People are so much noise
They distract me from what I want
You smile, your kisses and so much more...

I wonder if you think about me
If you can even think anymore
I think about you often
The cuddling, the hugs, the walks...

And it fills me with memories
Of things that can´t return
I yearn for remedies
For the malady of your loss

Yet what my heart aches
Is nothing compared to yours
I hope you can think of me, my love
As you lay dead on the earth
And you mind on the void...
Well time to honor my pen name with a sad poem, I find that now I just think of verses and try to build the poem around it, before I just felt a jolt of inspiration and poured it onto writting, but now I´m growing more methodical, guess reading as many poems as I do now to seek inspiration does that, regardless of that I hope you fine folk enjoy it nevertheless!
shamamama May 27
Pull the weeds, plant the seeds
this is what the garden said

choose what stays
choose what goes

be mindful when you do

the silver oaks darken the sun in the mind
trim the trunks, so light may you find

the bindweed traps the heart
clip the vine, free the art

the poison oak stings your delicate hand
let the goats eat these weeds right off the land

the pompous grass clouds the soul in your eyes
pluck these weeds before they set and rise

the deadweed piles darken your spirit
compost the weeds, lighten your merit

plant the seeds of love, hope and color
water with nourishment, fertilize with wonder
and you will warm the heart of another

and then,

begin again,

pull the weeds
plant the seeds
I feel like my garden has been talking to my soul and I want to share the conversation.
oh delirium, how much I have grown in-love with thee at this hour near morning twilight all hazy in the brain in deciding whether to see you or to drop my head asleep, accustomed to the bewitching time and longing to see that lingering daylight break, a dreamy state of thus, this moment wondering...
©2005
Penne Feb 19
A dictionary of words
Thousands---infinites!
Little marks to describe a vast world
Lest not care of lacking logic
Aroused by imagination is my magic
Lemon zests the cornucopia of citrus
Are not they a splash of kalopsa?
Charisma, karma, euphoria?
Not allowed to bleed in blanc
Wail in rosy franc
Puddles of messed reflection
Fictions wonder reaction
Wander in the wildest wilderness
Describe the autumn, fall
Moist, solitary
Fawn on the lawn
Reality is the contrary
Refuge in the creamed sugar
Like a cup of iced kiss
Deep burrowed in the mapled hiss
Wait for its marmalade bliss
Head exploding in fireworks
Magnificent, what about nightfall?
Showers and streaks befall
Stars shoot smoke of ball
Cry tears of meteorites
Sprinkle the blinking sprites
Flow streams of sparkling silence
Swim the chasing glares
Enchant me in your chemise, evangelic skin
Leitmotif of mimes' maim, mean?
Speculate the pixelled fairies
Hide in the fruits of Alice
Spark at the dance of hands
Paint the faint trees
Baskets of floating sheep
Bounce in the enigmatic realm
Drooling in
As they transgress the egress
In chiffon blush flushed
Bittersweet caress
Bare grasslands with strangers
Wet the glory shine
Morning then hoots for sleep
Shush, weeping willows
Flowers of your scent hover the grove
Voices sweetly surrender
Linger for tender
Gloam or roam
River of innocence soul
Reaping the afterglow
Aglow my fountained lockes
Blur for it to be clearer
Illusions of ambiguity
As its lips meet the prism
Of brilliant optimism
Breathtaking fauvism
Breathless onism
Succumb in the limitless reverie
Rare of not having aneurysm
Persephone's persepolis
Blood of perenelia
Where Opheus court Eurydice
Winter solace holies
Lakes of beating lights
Bloom irregularly
As the sesquipedalian crawl out from its vine
In the Brobdingnagian it creeps
Line between sublime and wine
Harmony weave in palette
Rhythm rose from my red
Fresh breeze hush the roulette
Leaves blade the crafted well-made
Dusk, dawn to diiferentiate
Eclipse the hysteria and the impeccable
Love waltz
Glide the glistened clarity
Perfume lilies
Stares of lavenders
Rain the clouds of keys
Crystallizing and fractalizing
Mesmerize, astonish, aghast!
Rise your mile
Fragile my rile
Bridge this moonlit immeasurable, fantasia distance
Repertoire of piano choir
Luxury in the polychrome noir
Royal in the loyal wintermelon
Poppies color the spring
Butterflies fly in the effervescence
My painting sings a summer fling
Jump in the pantones
Rest your all
Stones amble swish scone
Wishes twinkle then hone
Will-o-wisps chill your bone
Lend me a wing
Let not be done in a ding
What I fear, free from the fringes of meek
My, this lexicon is not enough!
How to occupy the million, jillion, eternal galaxies
Shout in the rave
Echoing in the waves
Marvel at the bejewelled revel
Image my imagery
Oh, dive away child!
Let us drive in the garden of glaze
Careful not to be too amazed in the maze
In the hummed woodglade
As the critters flutter and flute
No way to chain me out of this loop
Pool of pretty astonishments
Diamonds of nature
Endure, not inure
Words alone are insufficient
These are just mere fantasies
Some are unexplainable
Some needs to be felt
Some needs to be seen
Not just read
Not just dreamt
I may sound dubious
But this is incredulous
Just a random collection of pretty words º-º
Logan Smith Jul 2017
I often wonder
If your mind ever wanders to me
When it's dark and my side of the bed is empty
I wonder if you ever think
About the way my fingers felt in your
Curly, *****, ***** hair
Or about how the kisses we shared seemed to stop time
Or about the time when our love was gentle and sweet and new
Or about how we broke each other so many times
Before giving up

I often wonder if things could've been different,
If we could've had more time-stopping kisses,
And less earth shattering fights.
If you ever could've truly loved me,
The way you always promised that you would some day

I wonder if you think about me
The way I think about
How your hand felt on my back,
Rubbing all of my problems away.
Even though you were most of my problems.
Or how exhilarating it felt every time we came back to each other,
Like an alcoholic having "just one" drink, swearing we wouldn't get ****** in again.
km Jan 2015
I always wonder,
When the right person for me is coming.
I always wonder,
Where I'm going to meet him.
I always wonder,
If the right person for me is a person I already met.
I always wonder,
How others knew the right person once they see them.
I always wonder,
What it's like to truly fall in love.
lost Oct 2017
Sometimes I wonder
I wonder if our love
will grow like the flowers growing around the bench

But then I worry that
Our love will be like the weeds
that get pulled out

I sit in class and wonder
I wonder if you are doing to same

I set next to you
My palms are so sweaty
I wonder if your are too

I lay in bed
At 2 am
t
h
   i
    n
      k
        i
         n
           g
             about
                 you
I think about how your eyes glisten in the sun
I think about how smart those glasses make you
look
I think about the way you giggle...

But then I think about how I can't make you as happy as your
EX...

As I drift to sleep.
You finally leave my mind
then I walk up and see your face...
C
r
  y
   i
    n
      g
But then I realize it not you.
Its me crying at a picture of you.
Laughing with you ex.
Tanay Sengupta Aug 2018
Let the clouds invade the sky,
As my mind takes me to another land.
Today, I feel so high.

There is no reason to be shy,
The wind is my best friend.
Let the clouds invade the sky.

I feel so dreamy; I wonder why,
So many notes and letters to send.
Today, I feel so high.

I sit at the window as the heavens cry,
The tears that seem to have no end.
Let the clouds invade the sky.

I sit as my thoughts fly,
I have nothing urgent to attend.
Today, I feel so high.

I don't want it to stop; I will not lie,
But, everything must come to an end.
Let the clouds invade the sky.
Today, I feel so high.







Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018.
All Rights Reserved
I think you will be able to figure out what it is the moment you read it. Happy reading!
Peter B Mar 4
Sometimes I wonder
why
beauty makes me cry.

Sometimes I wonder
why
bright stars fall from the sky.

Sometimes I wonder
why
the precious things have to die.
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2018
Truth is big
it's imminent.
Little is in the know.

I wonder though
what if we knew it a lot
will we not die no more?

Pondering me
ended up on the water.
There was land no more.
Or the colossal ocean
at the end of the earth
is its backdrop who knows?

If this little soil earth
can stand in the midst
of the giant ocean
why can't a life's
bottomless backdrop
billow up when the
momentary death swoop?
(Thus propelling it into its
deathless eternal portion.)
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