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 Aug 2018 Seema
Donna
Myhaikudiary
 Aug 2018 Seema
Donna
Mean people just love
to put people down to the
point it gets tiring

I say find a way
to love to share to be kind
Stop being angry

Life is for living
Having suffered depression
many moons ago

it still wants to pop
up here and there , for no real
reason really , but

that's how it flows , but
never have I wanted to
be mean to people

I think there just sad
And need to get a real life
instead of putting

people down , but when
I think about it , they got
more issues than me

Why bother be mean
What do they get from it ? How
****** sad it that

Ah well I'm glad I'm
not a mean person , I shall
never understand

them nor do I wish
to , it's uses up to much
energy , leaving

you feeling tired
and its a waste of time as
time stops for no one

Anyway I felt
like a vent , as recently
I've stepped away from

a mean person who
had a spitful mouth , now the
sun shines bright again

-----

In life if someone
doesn't appreciate you
Then move on away
Venting x finally had the courage last week  to delete this person from my FB page and wassup and Snapchat and I don't regret it one bit xxxx
This one as been brewing now it's been poured :-))
 Aug 2018 Seema
Dawn Bunker
Let the music free your spirit
  when you hear it
   it takes control
    within your soul.

Let the music live inside you
  let it guide you.
   Each day a song
    you take along.

Let the music always lead you
   let it need you.
    Given a chance
     life is a dance.
my try at a minute poem. The traditional minute follows a 8444 syllable count.. 12 lines total and 60 syllables. ugh. strict iambic meter.. rhyme scheme is aabb, ccdd, eeff.
I must be getting old almost time to give it all away
I seem to like a little quiet in order to think of late
So many where I am full blast as if music at 7 a m
Speakers turned up might be time to shut the gate

I love to write always did might be time to move
To a mountain hut high away from all of this
A writer of any kind loves their peace of mind
Of late where I am a writer cannot call it bliss

If you don't hear from me for awhile I''ll be fine
Love to all that in any way can understand
Write on stay precious be sincere know love
Allow your soul to place a pen within your hand

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018
 Aug 2018 Seema
Logan Robertson
those **** trolls fish for gloom
baiting your roses and bloom
behind their mask and costume
a guise filled with malice loom
there spans from the beasts womb
a monster preying your doom
they take your light to dark displume
like fishes facing the jaws of gloom
eliot watches schools get entomb
like a stepping stone to their fume
it takes no rocket scientist's broom
to sweep the trolls from the classroom
nears the hour of our death, trolls resume

Logan Robertson

8/21/2018
I wrote this poem very impromptu, almost with a giggle like motivation. I was smitten with the attention it's receiving however how I wished it was divided, and a poem like, A Workplace Rendezvous (which I like more than this poem), received a peak (wordplay!)_
 Aug 2018 Seema
Elizabeth Squires
she'd oft stab her
so called friends in the back
they knew not of such a
malevolent form of attack

face to face she'd
be so pleasantly affable
yet when they'd present a
spine she'd turn unamiable

pity they who entrusted
their inner secrets to her ear
around social circles she'd
spill all that she did hear

her knife was ever
primed for blade action
and she never thought of its
ill considered impaction

we've all known
a lady of this ilk
one who'd skewer
our blouse's silk
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