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Robert Moe Sep 1
In the story of life that continues
From the distant past
To the infinite future,
Now as things happen,
No matter how important they might seem,
They are just added
As a single item
In an endless list of many.
Poem reminds us that each moment is but one piece of an overall history.  One piece taken by itself may be insignificant but added together they comprise a full story.
mysterie Sep 3
im stuck.

im right where you left me.

in that room,
where we once got too close
and it was like
time stopped...
just for us.

im right where you left me.

in that garden,
where we laughed too hard
and started to cry
and it was like
the world stopped spinning...
just for us.

im stuck in those moments.

the ones that silently mean
the world to me.

the ones i write about --
sometimes inbetween the lines.

hidden between the letters.

im stuck.

im right where you left me.
date wrote: 2/9
uhh okay
Nat Lipstadt Aug 20
armed and dangerous, 20 oz. of hot hot coffee, tablet on lap,
sitting on the deck overlooking the bay, and once again,
unusual for me, I am touched by the sanctity of the serenity
pervading, assuaging, by waves just loud enough to sway to,
the off/on chatter of the early bird's convocation of the morning's
blessing, have survived another night to greet greatly the outlines
of loveliness in the all~of~surroundings, which hacks my brain,
for I am by forty years of habitation more accustomed to a rough and tumble city boy trader, screamer of:
buy/sell/straddle/strangle/crush/****/mercilessness, no quarter,

no mindfulness in me naturally, until nature robs my tools of
denial,  and I smell the sanctity of fresh sheets laid on bed, the
warmed blood, vein coursing, suggesting just listen, listen,
the hot shower water eradicating the prior day's sinfulness,
the highly valued sensations of sensational emptiness, and
words drifting from the surround movie theater of a vista beloved,
coming for to fill and fulfill this always~in~mourning soul by the
overhauling of a crisp, cleansing day break

I, familiar with notions of perpetuity, and at best, conceptual, though
my mind permits a drift to the thoughtfulness that this place, this moment, this performance art  of spectacular breathing of another
dawning day, after thousands upon thousand of its predecessors,
and the possibility, not remote, but not promised, to anyone, just may
occur at least once more, and one must learn contentment from but
that idea, and sip the cooling dregs of coffee, the sounds of human
interference, car door slamming, the heaving breathing of morning joggers, the wind rising, the white caps snapping, precursors and
signs that natural perfection is never permanent, always in transition,
and a whispery smile crosses my cheeks, as a silly thought invades,

nature is so very human~like and yet, immortal…

composed between 6:30 and 8:30 am this day
Wed Aug 20 twenty twenty-five
Silver Beach
Immortality Aug 20
The rain dances
on my skin
I pause
and it feels
enough.
I'm feeling soooo good!!!!
cuz sometimes the tiniest moments turn into the best memories ;)
and yeah.... love the monsoon <3
I know you only want to talk                                                  because you  know  I'm  going to walk                                                                I  met  your childish silence                                                          ­ with  strength  and defiance                                                         ­  You  thought that I would cave                                                             ­ Stand  back while you misbehaved                                                       ­    Now  that  your  tower moment is here                                                         all  that ego has disappeared                                                      ­    While  you  gathered stones to throw                                                     I  was growing on my own                                                              ­          You  were full of foolish pride                                                trying  to  conquer and divide                                                           ­  You  always knew I dealt in truth                                                           and  that's something you can't do                                                           This  is your consequence                                                      ­                     This  is your tower moment
TheLees Jun 9
Twig on a tree through my window
knows sign language, I’m sure.
Branch fingers waving
to his lover across the road.

He bobs and bends in the breeze.
It’s a mystery to me,
why this waxy green tree,
with love in his leaves,
doesn’t leave his roots
and **** soil
from the same straw as his lover
across the road.

One day she’ll grow old,
wilt, then timber.
Will he remember
his failure to uproot,
to shoot a vine across a power line,
just to intertwine
for one moment
in time?
Jack Jul 20
"I'm happy you found someone,"
she wispers - and she means it.
I nod. I love my ***. But still,
my stomach burns with regret.

I can’t ask her to come back -
what I did forbids...
But God, a touch would make me crack,
just one more brush of h'r fingertips.

Her lips - so soft, so slim, so red -
I picture them on mine.
Then others join, and just like that,
the moment slips in time.

I’m not hers. She won’t be mine again.
Maybe that's how it goes.
Maybe we’re better off like this.
Maybe we're better apart with partners,
than as partners growing apart.
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