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Jeff Gaines Jul 2018
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterwards (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback. I will be building my Author page tonight (12/21/2018) and my website finished first thing Monday!

Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!

                                Big, Biggest Love,

                                               Jeff Gaines
As I mentioned above, this is my personal coming-of-age story. It is non-fiction and a bit of a roller coaster ride, telling the tale of my first Love. I hope you enjoy it.
Antonia Caldow May 2018
I'm not what I once was
A sea of change and pain
The smiles that follow a new touch
A whisper of time gone by
And all that's new I was gone
As smiles of old now die

I'm not what I once was
A whole to be filled
In the light that was my life
An age stretches out before us
A line drawn in the sand of time
Don't talk or fuss or touch

I am now anew
Reborn from the ashes, rising
The dust has settled the ash is laid
A step across the sand of time
I'm not what I once was
SoZaka Mar 2018
pushed upon my back
helpless as a beetle off his feet
  swept away by forces too powerful to resist

through streams
formed rivers
  carved canyons
an eternity I've struggled to breathe

difficult is this gift that keeps me from the crows
though lovely to be alive to feel the strain

through streams
of consciousness
which formed rivers
and carved canyons
 I grew courage and sailed briskly through
Grace E Wagner Feb 2018
Philosophers, poets, and parents alike
Will advise you
to stay focused on the future
To not stand rooted
with one foot in the past

But how can I walk forward
When I am anchored to the ground
Drowning in my anxieties and doubts?

Guarding my heart and head
Like a snake slithering around it’s nest
One wrong step or misplaced sound
And the vicious bite
will take my life

So I bury my head in old photo albums,
re-read books that once made me feel free,
And wash my sheets every Sunday
So that the smell of lavender and linen
never leaves my skin

Then I wonder to myself
Why Christmas doesn’t warm my heart anymore
Or why the water at our lakes edge
for once in my life Feels cold
why I don’t
laugh as much as I used to

I trouble my mind so much
That I have to distract myself
Just to stop worrying about wasted time
And to rid the recurring realization
That at this moment I am oldest I have ever been
And the youngest I will ever be

When did getting older become so complicated?
When did it start to feel  suffocating
Instead of liberating.
I never feel heard.
Irene Poole Sep 2017
18
you ask me

Do I Feel Different Today?

today, day of days
when the child outside becomes the child within
when those seven billion billion billion atoms have more or less successfully completed nearly seventeen million kilometres of earth

spinning

in space around a ball of blazing plasma and all I want is a break from it all for just one second
breathe in
one
two
three
make a wish
blow out the candles
see each little light blink into oblivion until the only one left is the sun and

Do I Feel Different?

I am still
spinning.
written on my 18th birthday, as I cross the line into adulthood
ito Sep 2017
In the beginning,
I wandered through a thick sunflower field.
Each passing day I grew closer and closer to the edge.
The way I started my descent,
I sat with my legs off the cliff,
Swinging them back and forth.
Next,
I inched down,
But was suddenly pushed because my heart broke.
Then coaxed by others hanging,
And well,
My curiosity led me on.

Now I have both hands on the cliff.
When I glance down,
My eyes widen.
I can't see anything,
It's pitch black with uncertainty,
A chilly breeze flows by.
Well that's a lie,
I can see a faint light,
But it's dim,
And a part of me wants to let go,
To fall,
Down,
Down,
Down.
My stomach does flips and tricks,
As I contemplate.
There's an excitement to it,
And curiosity again creeps up in my mind.
Accompanying the obscurity below,
The scent of tobacco and alcohol makes me scrunch up my nose.

I decide to gaze up,
I can hear laughter,
And light hearted banter.
The tantalizing smell of sugary candy,
Pleases me more.
The sky is pure baby blue,
No puffy cotton candy clouds,
And the sunshine warms the field.
Giant sunflowers sways back and forth,
Their golden color almost matching the brilliant sun.
Mindless daydreams appear,
And the notion of fairy tale love,
Causes my heart to swell,
I start to pull myself back up...

And I slip,
Beginning to fall backwards.
I scream.
Clawing at the side of the cliff,
My hands grab onto a small ledge and again I am hanging,
My legs dangling,
I'm a child on the monkey bars.
Wait no,
I am not a child.
But...
I don't feel like letting go just yet.
Why do I always try to traverse back up,
When every single time I’ve ended up farther down than before?
I don’t know.
Slowly,
I manage to rest myself on a small ledge.

Then as I’m speculating,
My eyes notice a small flower,
Growing on the vines that covered parts of the cliff,
Its petals surrounding itself.
Its color was white,
Clean like paper,
Resembling airy snow.
I reach out to touch it,
But retract my hand,
Hesitant.
It was the only other flower I had seen,
I was only familiar with the sunflowers,
But this one...
It wasn't blooming.
Again,
I extend my arm,
But I move the tiny flower away from what little sunlight reaches it,
And now complete darkness surrounds it,
As I hid it in a crevice.

I am not alone in this.
I know that much.
I can hear others shouting,
And falling.
Even if there is no sound,
I know there's always someone falling.
Some manage to climb up,
But never back onto the sunflower field.
They at least prolong their trip downwards,
Hugging the cliff even more.

Some don't even look before they disappear.
They step out of the field,
Then leap,
And dive right down,
As if they were young Icarus flying too close to the sun.
No matter what,
You always go down.

As I cling to the cliff,
The bright star above completes its journey for the day,
And is replaced with its ominous counterpart.
Sighing,
I stroke the closed petals of the white flower,
Knowing what usually comes next,
The night brings more to fall,
But as I tenderly pull the white flower from the crack,
The moon light greets it,
And soon it's petals begin to spread,
Blooming.
It reveals a dot of yellow,
Surrounding a circle of ghostly white.
A sense of comfort fills me,
Watching this long moment occur.
Darkness could transform things,
To become something beautiful.

My thoughts turn into questions as the night continues,
As I wonder what it'll be like when I fall.
What will it be like when I reach the bottom?
What is that light?
Will there be more white flowers?

But all in all,
This is not the end,
Far from it,
I know.
I'm waiting for my turn,
To finally let go and fall from grace.
But while I wait,
I’ll keep enjoying the sights above,
While pondering my coming life below.
This was my entry for Reflections 2016: What's your story?
I keep looking for an exit;
hoping and praying that all these confusions;
be straightened up and give me clarity.

I hate having to make up stories in my head;
that all the things you do for me;
you do for true love.

And all I ask;
is there an off switch for this?
because my heart's fed up;
with false hopes and broken promises.
So I met this guy and he treats me like a queen even though he knows I'm gay and all. I'm afraid to ask him if he also has feelings for me. Because what if he's just used to this kind of relationship between him and a gay friend? I remember last week, the day of my birthday, we met early in the morning to go by and hang out by the shore and I was surprised that he came prepared because he brought with him a picnic cloth and a drink for two. We smoked there and talked for almost 5 hours. and then he gave me a gift after, two books. hahahaha i love him.
Anthony Smith Jun 2017
This one, signed as myself and not my pen name, is a new step for me, I've never really put myself into my work, but this one is all me. Thus, it is called:
.

BARED SOUL

Life moves on
and things become too real.
A wife. Kids. Career.
It’s too much, I want to run away.

Everything has changed with
my position in the world.
I’ve never fit in
Always the freak who knows no limits,
the one who sits alone and minds his own.

Never understood, never accepted.
Now a husband, a dad, still the same.
Always covering up myself; hiding
behind wit and cruelty.

A shield to disappear into,
Afraid to be me; to send up alone.
I used to know who I was but
now I’m not so sure.

It seems I have my life sorted out,
but am I really happy?

A question I always find myself asking
but can never answer.
I don’t think anyone knows the meaning of happiness,
or if it really exists.

Tonight I found myself holding her close,
and as I rested my head on her chest,
I quietly try not to cry.

It’s hard sometimes to keep it all in,
to hold strong so as not to lose myself,
it’s why I write as I do.

An outlet through a pen is all I have,
only the page wont judge,
won’t declare me a freak,
won’t know that something is wrong with me.

The thoughts I have,
my inability to empathize with other’s pain and loss.
It makes me wonder if I’m right for this world.

I’ve been to two funerals,
one I barely knew, the other I held dear.
And lost a grandfather who meant everything,
yet I never shed a tear.

I used to think that it was because I am strong,
but now maybe that isn’t so.

Who am I really?
I think I need to know.
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