Poetry Blogs (Jun 2014)

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Singing To The Silence

Singing To The Silence


There will be a time for the silence,

To be heard again after the call,

To be heard with the final trumpet,

To be sanctified after the fall.


When the gates of the chantry are opened,

As the souls of the faithful gain grace,

What then will be left but the silence,

Or what should be left in its place.


When the tolling of bells ends the...

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Also by Ian Gant:

Net Worth |


Let's undo the
Let's see what lies
Deep inside
Unscrew the brackets
Open the cupboard
Punch holes 
In the side
Of our heads
Suffer the pain
That lies
On the other side
Of what we know
Tread in the place
Where the doors have
Been closed
For so long
Tread the dust
Tempt the mania
Scare ourselves 
A little
I do know
What's inside
I know 
The slugs 
And the cobwebs
I k...

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Also by Twilbury Wist:

The Deal | The Sulk | The escape | The Tramp | Road Rage | The end is nigh | The Wavering | This Gig | fracture | Excuses | Wobble | The lost and the lonely | Thus | Pur(-ef)fect | The Fairy's Tale | Sleep talk | Pressure | stolen | Between the Rain | Egg Shells | Fishing for Tadpoles | Drowning | Wind Pipes | Cold and Sober | Tik-um-tok |

23:4 re-drawn

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Mr Martlew

would you mind

if I sit awhile here

in the shade on my own,

you hushed in your hole,

in the valley of the shadow?

Shall I re-draw life

in the black lines etched above your bones?

Did it hurt?

Were you scared?

Do the stones weigh heavy?

Do they creak beneath the roses

and the green glass gravel?

Did it hurt?

Were you scared?

Were you read...

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Also by Laura Taylor:

Cascade |


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Whatever he knew he had learned

from nature, how even things

that seem at first fragile derive

strength from structure –

an insect’s wing, or a leaf,

its membrane stretched across

a framework of ribs and veins.


The simplest grasses, barely

noticed, assume their burdens

like trees. A small shell’s

convolution implies a flight of stairs.

You can roll out a roof ...

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Also by David Cooke:

Mingus | Horace Silver | Gaudí | Casa Batlló | Miles | I Remember Clifford | Thelonius | Sassy |

Ditch Digger

I've heard the world needs ditch diggers too,

Which is good for me and good for you,

Because now we can be important to,

The doctors and the lawyers.


Oh, won't my mother be so proud,

To have raised such an important child,

Who reached the summit in the clouds,

When it comes to holding a shovel.


So, remember not to try too hard,

If you were born substandard,


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Also by James Roper:

Like an Old Friend | A River | I Thought to Try Something Different (preface to "A River") | The Slow Boy | A Ring | Poisoned Well | Mason | Insomnia | On the Influences of Love | The Corn | The Wind Sweeps In |


What to say first?

What to say first?

What to say at all?


Just when you think you understand this vast worldly ocean a wave comes at you

from a different direction

from a different time

from a horrific memory


Challenging your beliefs, your up bring, your footing

on this slippery world

on these slippery thoughts

on these slippery communications


A door less room deep inside...

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Also by Adam:

Words |

Tales of a Shattered Monocle

By the click of a boot and a tip of a hat I am seen. With the tick tock of a pocket watch and a rattle from a hip flask rhythm becomes my beauty. Take heed no words dear passer-by but grooming beyond measure. The point of my moustache will guide you to my cane and streets filled with cheer. Eccentric you will deem my pleasure but do not paint your despair on my white starched shirt.     

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I'm Not a hero

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I'm not a hero

Want a simple quiet life

No hero lives here

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Also by Shirley Smothers:

Haiku About Poetry |


Joseph Robert's poem in Eunoia Review

My poet hubby's latest poem is published this week in Eunoia Review. The magazine publishes poetry, fiction and creative non-fiction online and updates on a daily basis, perfect for a read in transit, or at anytime!

Thanks! Leilanie Stewart and Joseph Robert 

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Also by Leilanie Stewart:

Free poetry competitions for June and July 2014 | Joseph Robert's poem in Bluepepper | My debut poetry pamphlet forthcoming from Eyewear Publishing! | Embroidery Soul - my poetry video for June |

Eunoia ReviewJoseph Robertpoetry magazines


I close my eyes to see you again

I can feel you with every beat of my heart

Can smell you, can taste you

With each breath

My mind takes me back to the start

You had me hook, line and sinker

From the moment we met

As my feet touched your shores for the first

With each passing day, you did blow me away

With your passion, your joy and your thirst

As your culture consumed...

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The cheesecloth dress, Doc Marten boots

Tie-dye shirt and beads

Slightly dippy, Habitat Hippy

Bags of sunflower seeds


Roedean Ladies, cultured accent

No stranger to the Hilton

Full-time work, likes to smirk

In the summer goes to Pilton


Not for her the great unwashed

She finds them “Oh so creepy!”

Vegetable matter, and a warm ciabatta

Plus a duvet in her T...

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Also by Daniel Dwyran:


Above, Beyond

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The morning, crisp and broken by the curfew
Of rising larks and pigeons in the choir,
Its breaching sun is bursting through the grass dew
And thinning out the misty dawn's perspire.
Many rest upon their linen sheets around
And you, the only currently arise,
Solo is your ally when breaking the ground;
Undistracted, undisturbed - your alibis.

Your muscles twitch uncertain of their purpose,
Or whether purpo...

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The Unyielding

Fools you are,
Following the words of the Deceitful One,
How can you kneel to a God that demands servitude?
An angry, jealous God that will make you kneel by force?
Are those the words and actions of a God of Love?
Of Kindness?
Those are the words of a Liar.
A marauder!
A scoundrel!

Fools you are,
Kneeling before an Unjust God!
A God of Deceit!
A God of Unjustly anger!
A God of C...

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Also by Lopt the Treacherous:

The Sound of Night |

ChristianConverstionmartyrof PagansPagan Poetry.unyielding

misgivings about missed givings

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He had sent the dark cloud

all the reasons

for it to be hanging over him

when in fact

those reasons should have been delivered

to more than the entirety of sunlight.

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Too soon the infant year grows old
and winter’s grip is long and cold
so, eagerly I treat the sun
as if it were a prize I’d won
and would not put aside until
the winning of it lost its thrill.
Reptilian, I take my fill;
consuming what, come winter, will
seem simply one more fable spun
to light the dark and paint the dun
decrepit world in hues of gold
my pallid skin will fail to hold.

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deep dreams

in the deepest of my deep dreams

I shall take my little dream boat

away and away from the earth

I shall gently slowly surely float

outwards in between the planets

I shall haul and jib tack and run

setting my sheets to catch in full

the wind streaming off  the sun

past the outer giant’s shining rings

to the very edge of solar space

my little boat will gather speed


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Also by terry ireland:

444. Lives Later | Picket, 1993 | d-day 6th june 2014 |

Easter With Hen

Easter With Hen

Morning at 7 Easter in heaven

Walk up like a Slaughter went to buy hen

Go fast said the grandma

By giving me penny and tin.



On my way towards the butcher house

Who might be there, morning at 7

In the day of Easter with the rising sun


People were there, with butcher & his hen

Peeping from the window

From the door step

And from ...

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Also by Hari Das:

Rose | Something | Voice | Way |

Note to self

Note to self


One thing I know is…. It can take real courage to make mistakes.  Not just to make mistakes but to be willing to live with the consequences.  To whole heartedly accept full responsibility for those errors with a stoic smile.


Even if the result of those mistakes is that the whole universe comes crashing into a cascading oblivion.  At the end of days at least, if they ex...

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Just a note to myself

War Boys

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War Boys


We’re going to war boys,
we’re going to war,
Lord Kitchener asked us
so we formed a corps.
Joe and Jack from the factory,
Ted and Jim from the farm,
the recruiting sergeant assures us
that there’s little chance of harm.
We’re part of the great pals army
and we’ve fallen for his charm
as we march away to war.

We’re in the war boys,
we’re in the ...

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Also by Ian Whiteley:

Roadie | Children Of The Glamned (Resurrection Shuffle) |

deathghostsglorykitchenermarching songpals armyposterSITWBww1you're country needs you

It Hurts

It Hurts
The pain is creeping up on me
It hurts
I can feel it
It hurts
Not this again
It hurts
I can't take it anymore
It hurts
My body needs yours
It hurts
No body of yours wants mine
It hurts
It hurts
It hurts
Don't do this to me
It hurts
I want you so bad
It hurts
I need you so bad
It hurts
Make it go away
It hurts
It hurts
It won't stop
It hurts
Until you return

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Go tell the Riverman.


                    summer rains' quiet incantation, the animals come and go,

                    in the far-distant hills, the snow melts as the river flows;

                    time is a demon

                    the animals know.


                    It’s looking for you, y'know:

                  ...in the abdomen – demon go


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Sweating the Small Stuff

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We have a good arrangement between Our Gert and me

In carving up decision-making fair and equally.

I take all the Macro-stuff and sort all that lot out

While she sweats all the Little Stuff that I can do without.

By way of some examples I hope that you might glean

The basis of our partnership and sorts of things I mean.


I decide, for instance, the rise in interest rate


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Also by John Coopey:

Ode to Roy |

Wistful Wanderings

Wistful wanderings of my mind,

take me from stubble scratching

to thoughts of just how to unwind

the complex issues we face today…


Mankind is gifted with intelligence,

we know that is a truth for sure,

yet still pursues ancient grievance

that only serve to bring pain for more


Better that we stop and think of more ways

to shape a society where all give as they c...

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Also by Dave Dunn:

No Dark Shadows | Cyclops | A Pestilence of Hackers | Afterglow | Love Is |


''They think it's all over...

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Bem-vindo ao Brasil...........Bienvenido a Brasil......Willkommen in Brasilien.......... Kaabo si Brazil.......... Benvenuti in Brasile.........Welkom bij Brazilië.........Bienvenue au Brésil.........''Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooal !!! ''..Good-bye England.      words and foto T Carroll    .....It is now!''

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Also by Tommy Carroll:

The Price | Reductio ad Absurdum |

My Socks Are Wet

And I thought it was the opposite

Of dropping bombs

Elegant cascades of nothing

Overused magic tricks slighting

My eyes in your direction

Standing against you

Back to the rain

Neck dripping white petals 

Of Lucifer's tears 

I ask

Do you know why 

My socks are wet?

You knew it was all 

Fine and dandy 

That I would do anything 

If you had looked through m...

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Also by Pity-Poetry :

I Guess You Could Call Me Lucky | By the Time I Found You | BLIND | Poetry In Soggy Water | Other Than Ours | STAGNANT | MAYBE | Debussy | BUSY | Comfortably Melon | Archetypal Existence | For The Thought Of It | Ahead |

Odin's Son.

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Charging through the sky in his chariot,

Protector of Asgard and Midgard,

Mighty Thor is the protector of us all.

With the strength  of Mjolnir,

The giants fear he is near.



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The Memorial Day

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It was Sunday morning, 1941, the 22nd of June,

The day of the growing Moon.

The country peacefully slept

While Hitler a horrible idea had kept.

Without announcing the war

He had given an order

To bomb the Soviet Republics border.

By unexpected military actions

The fascist wanted to capture all nations,

To turn the peoples into the slaves,

To fill the country with grav...

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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

Spring Meets Summer |


Frame of Words

'I love you,' he said.
'No, you don't.'
'In my poems. You can find my love for you.’
'Love of words.
You live in a box
Rearranging alphabet
Into order

That only you control.'

Like a jazz musician
Finding different improvised
Running in parallel lines
With a wayward bounce
The listener pretends
To understand

So the artist draws lines
Creating as if a God.
Man and Woman,

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Also by John Eliot:

The Sound of Photographs |

Kites and Anchors

There's a hole in my heart that I cannot fill

And the pain that it causes I cannot still

The love and compassion that should have been there

Got lost on the way, along with the care

And I can't get it back as hard as I try

So it strangles your love until you say goodbye

My insecurity grows day by day

And my desperation pushes away

The people who only want to feel free


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Also by Amy:

Nightmares | Tightrope Woman | Not all men | Citalopram | The Ring |

The Storm

Rain drops,

drip, drip,






Lightning crackles,

Thunder crashes, Boom,

Sun peeps

Birds twitter.

© Hazel


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Also by Hazel Connelly:

Anger |


Uruguay 2 England 1







England shafted twice over: by Uruguay and Liverpool - ouch!

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Also by M.C. Newberry:

COMFORT | WOL makes the SUNDAY EXPRESS letters page | "HARSH WORDS FOR DIRE POETS" | ARROMANCHES - a Re-post of Remembrance for 2014 |

Will you be able to love me...?

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You make me invoke the liberating pleasure

that radiates on my skin, in unconsummated desires,

as autumn showing lust, with delirium and graciousness...


Will you be able to love me?

Intoxicate me with sex, with nights that uphold me;

there is no greater delight than to sin with the flood of your kisses

and the madness of this moment


I adore to be loved!

I cry for ...

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Also by Noris Roberts:

Your lips... | What makes me love you? |


Shatter Me

What do you do when you make a wrong turn?

You can turn around, accept your lesson, and learn.

Or you can follow the path of the yellow brick road,

You can be the star of a new episode.

One that you never thought would be shown,

Drive away from structure, drive away from home.

Stare into the darkness, afraid of everything ahead,

Drive until you fall in love, or drive until you...

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Life in store

Bowl of cornflakes,cup of tea,marmalade on toast

she pins her name badge on shop smock,opens rain dampened post.

Then,steps into boring sensible shoes,stubs out half finished smoke

mentally prepares herself for bus-stop blues,of weather cursings,day's first corny joke.


Old but cheery bus driver,pours out his repetoire of jest

its lady pensioners who lap it up,young ones texting...

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Pop Up Poetry Guildford v the World Cup, 17th June 2014

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June's Pop Up at the Bar des Arts was a great success despite a few glitches - what with glorious weather, Mexico playing Brazil in the World Cup (a lousy draw), our back-cloth screen collapsing and almost braining Dónall, our mic-stand proving short of a rod or two and our stage lighting staying obstinately unlighted. Luckily, all these material disasters happened before the start of the evening....

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Donall DempseyGary W HartleyPop up Poetrysteve pottingerThomas Thurman

Pop Up Poetry at the Bar des Arts, Guildford in June

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June's Pop Up at the Bar des Arts in Guildford was a great success despite a few glitches - what with glorious weather, Mexico playing Brazil in the World Cup (a lousy draw), our back-cloth screen collapsing and almost braining Dónall, our mic-stand proving short of a rod or two and our stage lighting staying obstinately unlighted. Luckily, all these material disasters happened before the start of...

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Donall DempseyGary W HartleyJanice WindlePop Up PoetrySteve PottingerThomas Thurman

ThePoetry Spoke - closes

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ThePoetry Spoke has now closed its doors for the final time.  We finished as we started with a wonderful event.  If anyone wishes to look back at some of the poetry that we were fortunate enough to share at la gondola and Gallaghers; please search Merseypoetryscene on youtube.  You will also find some excellent poetry from the Wirral Ode Show at the Egremont Ferry and some fine musical performance...

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Black in my eyes

Black in my mind

Black in my heart

Black in my smile



A fragile heart

A broken smile

Chaos in my soul

Loss of inner peace




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Also by LadyLove Costa:

He Gives Me Harmony |

Balance of Emotions

Balance of Emotions



     Someone take the cot away,

For the child was never wanted,

Someone take the bottles and bibs,

For this child wasn’t born through courtship,

Take the rubber pants,

The terry towelling nappies,

Take the vests and bodysuits,

The pram and all his dummies


Take the gloves and booties,

The teddy bear that stares,

Take away his curly...

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My Smile Is Not For You

Until the sun is bruised and the birds are gone,

I will be here.

So, if you want rid of surrounding eyes

then it's best you break my heart.

A word of warning before you do,

this smile you see now will never be for you,

not one minute more.

It'll be for the faint azure;

for the innocent laugh of my baby nephew

who doesn't know pain like mine -

I pray he never does.


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A short walk


Spring brings forth its first flush

Bright and green

In something of a haste and rush

Or so it seems

Desperate to cover up the bold baroness of winter


Over marsh , over rock

Over branch and over root

Broken thorns cascade and rub

Inside my boot

As we tramp our way along the coastal path

Walking in a troop


The water below lapping, slapping

Gently c...

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Beyond an end

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We are all attached to what was once

No matter how old however stretched

Elasticity cannot deny youth as

Long as something of sincerity

Within remains, no matter the other

Now simply can’t exist beyond the

Here and the now without the past

Future serves no purpose beyond an end


Life a turtle with a diamond shell

Aged replete with the Forgotten

Book like ever page...

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Also by Richard Alfred:

Hard Of Hearing |

Unwanted Gifts

My dog started bringing me presents, a mouse and a live bird,

but then appeared an accident, I found he’d left me a turd.

I went to fetch some kitchen towel, declaring it less than a joke

but just as I went to clear it up the turd let out a croak.

I stumbled back with a cry of shock; was it a frog or a toad?

I opened the door and out it hopped and disappeared up the road.

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Also by Lynn Dye:

Safe Sex |


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That snow white Vauxhall Cresta

With its red leather seats

And stunning chromium bumpers

Flashing through the town streets

In the front passenger seat

I waved to friends going by

As dad raced the engine

Keeping the rev counter high


That pure white Vauxhall Cresta

With its iconic look

A classic sixties motor

The best one in the book

The pu...

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David SubacchiLiverpool poetryLiverpool PoetsWelsh PoetsWelsh Poets.David Subacchi


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I hesitate before dipping

the rough edge, ripped shard;

ink screwed on, blue clasp,

scratches from the mind's eye;

call you up, embrace, descry

a vision from beyond my grasp, as

time and journeys flung us wide.


I listen for the creepers' hum,

the stirring, pollen still beside

the sparrows in the tangled verge.

From beyond rock walls, broken, cracked,

earth and...

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Also by David Blake:

Crash Survivor's Log |


Weirdly Racist

Weirdly Racist

Not another white nigger!
Was the statement thrown at me
by some un-evolved, knuckle dragging, pissed up mistake of humanity
in a Wetherspoons pub toilet
spreading his intellectual views
I glanced to witness my aggressor
and saw him pissing on his shoes.
I should take him more seriously I thought
after seeing what he'd done
please teach me sir all you have learned

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The Rose opened its heart petal by petal

unfolding its virtues to the naked eye

You opened your heart page by page

unfolding your virtues to my soul

   even sealing it with a loving kiss

   on that fateful day


It was only to last seven weeks

until your gun was pointed at my head

the double barrel between my eyes

you hated the concept of equality

slavery was your ...

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Also by Tricia Hague-Barrett:



Limbo Days

In all directions the way ahead is curtained

By fronds of doubt and uncertain mist.

Barefoot solo dancing this slow moist limbo,

the air humid with little movement in the warm waters,

a fetid mud of unknowing squeezing between my toes

as flies swarm knowing their prey in this lagoon

green with algae and forgotten dreams.

I need strength, don’t squander energy to shout, scream ...

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Where Hope Still Lies

I no longer feel to voyage on, since I no longer feel

I no longer feel to voyage on this silver pathway

That is no pathway but a rutted track that steers the wheel

On a golden course where only dark shadows play.

And I know that once upon this path, largely for others' needs,

This chariot will charge forward with this form

(Only the body travels now)

And I will not stop nor ev...

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