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 Feb 2016
Thomas Conlan
She was one in a million;
the moon filling up the night sky.
She'd lit up the whole world for his passing by.
He'll look up on those cold winter nights,
and her glow is amongst the most beautiful sights.
His moonlight maiden has a hold over his heart,
and with it, he feels they will never be apart.

He was one in a million;
just another star.
He lights up the night, but he's so very far.
Some evenings she finds her way without him,
because the light he offers her is so dim.
There are many more men among the skyline,
and if they’re hidden behind clouds, that's just fine;
because stars have no sway over the shine of the sun,
which will forever be her only one.
 Feb 2016
Jennifer L Clark
Time doesn't remove the hurt, it just helps it to heal.
There are many stepping stones on our path called life,
they either help us along, delay our progress, or dump us on our ***...

We learn a lesson from all the stones but it's the Rocks, you see that keep us going...

Rocks are the ones we can't move or step on. We pass them by, climb on them, sit in their shadows, and leave them behind.

Then some where on our journey we turn around and in the distance; we can see them  towering above our broken path, waving us on or welcoming us home...

JLCL aka Jennifer L. Clark (c)  2/2016
 Feb 2016
Busbar Dancer
As to this
cobbled together understanding:
The universe despises absolutes, and
cares not for truth seeking.
The grand spiral needs no faith.
It is not with the master's death, then
that we have become spiritual ronin,
beholden to none;
without obligation -
without the comfort of purpose....
Instead, here we are,
the rain dogs of the cosmos;
lost and alone
on a strange world
with no scent to follow.
We are the orphans of sun and moon -
bad parents if ever there were.
 Jan 2016
Vanessa Gatley
My own world
Belongs to 2 different
Places
Where I once was
Where I'm now
 Jan 2016
Carl Joseph Roberts
To all my readers, my second poetry book has now been published called Life, Love and Lessons Learned. It is available on

Amazon, Kindle and Lulu
By typing in Carl Joseph Roberts Life Love And Lessons Learned.

My first book,
Through My Eyes, By Carl Joseph Roberts
was a success and because of many of you, even without a book signing it was profitable. And I hope many of you will support this my second book as well and additionally forward this to as many other readers in hope they will support also. Again, thank you all so very much for your support over these last sever years. From winning several contests to all your comments I have appreciated each kind word said. So please find and buy a book and support the cause if possible. Thank you all again.  Always writing... Carl Joseph Roberts  (Joe)
Please add to as many collections as you fell fit and forward as you wish to help support. Thanks. Joe
 Dec 2015
SøułSurvivør
raindrops travel
down the pane
no two alike
no path the same

roses blooming
on the heath
are all the same
scent beneath

how alike
and yet diverse
logic rendered
in reverse!

no color
creed
ideology
can make a man
bond or
FREE

let's all move
forward
tho we plod
we're the
manifold
glory
of
a
loving

GOD



Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc aka
SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/29/2015
all rights protected
in the eyes of our
Creator
we are
ALL THE SAME

a begger in Calcutta
is as important as the
Queen of England

can you dig it?


---
 Dec 2015
Agrace
they ask me how i love you,
why i never leave you,
i try to tell them,
your flaws are what make you,
perfect
 Dec 2015
Musfiq us shaleheen
~~
You are always beneath the sky
though you can think above all the heights
even behind the origin
and following just after

A bit ahead
just before the end of the evening
a distinct dark and a shadow
caught between two stools

I'm moving between the line,
blessing in disguise
stepping forward,
taking the best of both worlds

Shadows have a sound of mist
within the shadows
and the dark has a light
at the bottom on the line of dark

but I caught between two stools
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
 Dec 2015
moss
Their freedom to tell their depths is now confined to a week.
But despite the propaganda, they are still afraid to speak.
On the outside, they are perceived as nothing but freaks.
On the inside, their lives are catastrophic, yet also bleak.

From their mountains of anxiety to their valleys of depression,
Nobody wants to listen to their pleading expressions.
They're forced to hold down their feelings with constant suppression.
So desperate to become invisible, it becomes an obsession.

As if their sickness was not as legitimate as one of the physical kind
Just because it plagues their body on the inside of their mind.
Behind their daily masks, they are continuously confined,
And the rest of their lives will be wrapped in a box and predefined.

They often wish things were how they saw them: nothing being real.
They use third person pronouns to describe how they feel
Because, whether they like it or not, they aren't made of steel,
But continue to futilely dance around the solar system's wheel.
I meant to post this earlier in the week, but I've been busy. Supposedly, this was "Mental Health Week" in case you weren't aware. It really bothers me that it's such a social taboo to talk about mental illness any other week of the year, and even during that week, it seems most people are just helping "raise awareness" by retweeting or sharing, but it's still always something that no one wants to admit that they themselves have problems with as if it's not as legitimate as some physical ailment like the flu or even cancer if you want to take it that far. The more people distance themselves from a problem, the more distant it will seem, and then the people who have those problems will seem more distant, producing the opposite effect that was intended. Good grief, do we need a special day/week/month for everything?
 Dec 2015
Karen Hamilton
Who has the right
To stand and stare
Snarl at others
With piercing glares,
Who has the right
To cast a stone
Place themselves on
Pedestal's or
High on a throne?

For you and I
We cannot judge,
Neither of us
Are clear of mud
We make mistakes
We all grow old,
Fight to survive
The bitter cold;

Now. I'll ask again
But this time be true

One day those stones
May cast at you



© Karen L Hamilton, 2012
To judge another is such a difficult subject, for me to tell you not to judge - would I then be judging you for doing so?
I see the moon,

and the moon sees me.

God bless the moon,

and God bless me.



*May the sweetness of rest enfold you

as the night puts on its cloak.
Meditation.
 Dec 2015
pluie d'été
What do you write to the saddest girl in the world?
Do you write about the beauty in the moon
The way its reflection
Stains the waves white?

Do you write about the way the rain
Falls on the surface
Of the water
And how it looks from underneath
Dancing with the oxygen
You exhale


Do you write about the wind
Tearing
Caressing
Green
Red
Brown
Yellow
Non- existant leaves?

Do you tell her
About your cheeks stinging
When the sky is grey
And how it feels to have drizzle
Falling across your closed eyes?

Do you tell her about the little boys
Who pick flowers
Just to see her smile
Or the girls who spend minutes
Writing her name?

What do you tell the saddest girl in the world?

Do you tell her
That everything is infinite
Or that it is necessary
For all things great
To end?

Do you tell her
About the flowers
You see
And the smiles
You can no longer count

Or do you tell her about the flowers
That lose their petals when she
Forgets their beauty
And the people who fade away
When all she sees
Is grey
Grey
Grey
Emptiness

Do you tell her
When you miss her smile
Or do you kiss the tears
Off her cheeks
And dance with her
Slowly
Across the bed
With rumpled sheets
And lines
And lines
Of sunlight

Do you tell her
That you love her
Without her sadness
(God, I hope you do)
But with it too

Or will you
Never tell her
The way she never tells you
And will you keep
The receipt
That she had written
About never telling the person you love
The most

How much you love them.
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