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Steve Page Jul 2023
I carry my bags beneath
my no longer baby blues,
partly framed
and closer to grey

The bags darken with their weight
and they unwittingly pull
the eye down
from the splayed crows feet

I carry my bags
Prompted by a poem on this site, which I can't now find.  Getting old.
Man Jul 2023
Persons who, not agreeing with you,
Will tell you, your perspective is wrong.
That lived experience,
Has clouded your lense of reality.
But they offer no real difference
Nothing so substantive
As to say,
Mine is fixed
And based in a place
Of true, unbiased rationality.
Rakib Jul 2023
Beneath the kaleidoscope of city lights,
Drunk on the potion of our fleeting nights,
As we dance with shadows, shifting in the gloam,
Youth whispers secrets, in this world we roam.

And with each pulsing beat of our hearts,
We paint the canvas of life with our arts.
Our laughter's echo, a symphony of time,
In the theater of existence, our prime.

Time, oh time, your river runs so deep,
In every memory we yearn to keep,
Yet as the current carries us away,
The colors of our youth begin to fray.

Through silent forests, where wisdom hides,
Where Emerson's thought and Frost's beauty abides,
We journey seeking truth in nature's lore,
Learning to embrace what life has in store.

The ticking hands of time, the aging moon,
All singing the inevitable tune,
Yet in each wrinkle, in every silver line,
Lie tales of a life, beautifully entwined.

Time, oh time, in your rhythm we dance,
Caught in the ebb and flow of our trance,
And as we waltz to your eternal song,
We understand, to the universe, we belong.

The mirror reflects our changing face,
Youth's fleeting image, a vanishing trace,
Yet, within our hearts, in the depths unseen,
Burns the eternal flame, forever seventeen.

As we walk the path where the two roads diverge,
We find ourselves standing on the age's verge,
With the wisdom of the years in our sight,
We embrace the coming of the adult's night.

Time, oh time, in your hands we unfold,
Weaving the tapestry of stories told,
Though the days of youth in the past might lie,
In the realm of memory, they never die.

So, with every sunset, and every breaking dawn,
We celebrate the life that has been and will be born,
And though the pages of time continue to turn,
It's the fire of youth, within us, that continues to burn.
Nigdaw May 2023
if you want to find me
I am slightly left of centre
at the back, a different colour
more drab, grey even
quite unnoticeable
an extra in a street scene
there to make the numbers up
a voice in a choir drowned out
by those around me
probably mouthing the words
half remembered
a shadow on a sunlit street
where everyone is having
a good time, or on the beach
sitting staring out to sea
no small talk, not even hello

my mind is shooting
gathering experience
like tracer fire
target secured
Mark Wanless Apr 2023
we experience
and are result awakened
moment here and now
My arm is called the epic list
Displaying the anthems of my life
One by one

I've lived these moments
Heard the music loud and clear
These melodies will forever live
In the basement of my brain

Falling into the depth of my mind
I dig it up with my hand
Revealing the traffic

I'm addicted to the melancholy
No matter where I travel
We all carry a bag

I've lived these moments
Heard the music loud and clear
These melodies will forever live
In the basement of my brain

-AJT
old willow Feb 2023
To live is to experience tribulation.
How can there be rainbow without rain?
To live is to experience mortal dusts.
How can there be rain without water?
To live is to experience life's rust.
How can there be rust without metal?
To live is to achieve happiness.
How can there be happiness without sad things?
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