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 May 2020 Yaz Dincer
Sue Collins
The poet bleeds ruby red words to match the injury. Follow the stains to find out whodonit, cathartic agony before redemption, loose ties abound.

The poet’s words a kaleidospoke of spiritual colors come to life. One strand of hair can mean life or death in the poet’s world. Always bated breath for clues.

The poet’s heart and soul cannot be bought and sold. Above the fray, giving hints of the immortal. Never didactically explaining. That’s below his pay grade.

Look to car bumpers for slogans and clichés; poetry is a unique view of the quotidian and the extraordinary together in curvilinear form. No straight lines.

The drama of internal dialogue is an art form for those willing to let the words in. Chew on them a while, and let the digestive process be everlasting.
 May 2020 Yaz Dincer
Kanishka
I wonder if death will cure my life.
 May 2020 Yaz Dincer
MawaLin
Longing
 May 2020 Yaz Dincer
MawaLin
And when you left
I overwatered all your flowers
 May 2020 Yaz Dincer
Jackie Mead
Dad, I know you would not want me to say..
but I miss you every single day.

You were my hero from an early age
my guardian, my teacher, my wisely sage.

You and Mum raised us all with such love.
Handling us all with kitten gloves.

Your knowledge and experiences you would freely impart.
You really were oh so smart.

There was nothing you wouldn't do
To keep your Family close to you.
An arm to hold us, stop us falling down.
An ear to listen when no one else was around.

You were strength
You were smart
You were fun
You were loyal
You were our rock

We won't forget you Dad, you'll never leave our hearts.

Love you **
It would have been my Dads birthday on Sunday, two days after my Daughters, four days after my Grandaughters.

He would have been 84.

My Dads been gone for two years now but I miss him every day.

Since last November ive written and self published three children's books and it is my only regret that my Dad didn't get to see this I know he would have been so proud.

I will be visiting a local place very dear to us on Sunday and raising a glass to my beloved Dad.

Thank you for listening **
 May 2020 Yaz Dincer
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
 May 2020 Yaz Dincer
Lyndsey
I talk to my cats,
to the shadows on the wall,

I talk to myself,
or I don't talk at all.

I'm swirling in thoughts
that won't stay away.

I spend far too much time
wasted this way.

Stuck somewhere between
depressed and numb,

My only reprieve,
sitting in the sun.

Moments while the rays
illuminate my skin

I don't feel so trapped,
I dont feel shut in.
For anybody dealing with their mental health demons during this pandemic, please remember you aren't alone. ♡
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