Poetry Blogs (2019)

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What you see is a soul

Fighting effortlessly 

Slaying, surviving,

Even thriving.


What you don't see

Is some times

Are so soul-crushing

Jarring and numbing

That I can hardly walk 

Hardly stand

Hardly breathe.


Please make no mistake -

This was never easy

And though I have made so much progress,

I have gone through so much pain.


Sometimes, I...

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Also by Hallielle Rose Dawson:

Hush, lovey. | A Fire | If You Were | Any Less (The Ocean) | Silence | Half order of bacon, make it a whole | Rock Bottom | For Too | Buckets |

Intersections and Timeline

Sometimes when I watch the city lights

slowly die to give way for the night,

or listen to songs you wrote about me

as I stand in the backroom window in my apartment,

I wonder if you’ve forgiven me

for all the times I didn’t love you as much

when you were still here with me holding my hands.


I know it has heen a busy couple of months

with everything happening all at onc...

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entry picture

Sunlight on your skin

Teardrops in your eyes

Reaching down your chin

Hearing out your cries

Tearing me apart

Knowing I’m the reason

For your aching heart

And all I did was offer you a treason.

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Also by Ana Dobrev:

5am |

guilt sad

Championing The Unlikely Hero


there's the tennis player between points
perfecting conservation of energy

(factory/warehouse operatives 
practise comparable economy)

I know
there's the scream of bodies stretched beyond endurance
roars of victory 
if victory comes
we all know well from every bulletin
but the hero of this tale 
has no facial expression
and no response for the baying crowd
only between rounds

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Also by Adam Whitworth:

My Little Discovery | Lines To Copy | We, The Uneducated | Situation 1 |

Words of The Waiting Man 30 (Final Chapter part 1)

If walls could talk 
Then walls were only talk about 
How much I loved you
Cold and clammy nights was the worst for me

Now you're becoming lost to the Sea
I'm locked in this lighthouse all alone
Your body pressed against me
Has pasted against my walls
I can scream I want it over but it's evermore

Could you please save me tonight
Before my body becomes perfect symmetry
With the barre...

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Also by Damon Blackery:

Lonely Heated Killer | Words of The Waiting Man 29 | Panic Attack 4 | Hey There. | Mirror | Concrete Rose | Dumb Soil | You Won't Survive This Addiction | I Only Got A Job To Buy Her Glee |


I first noticed the village pump some years ago

when there were farms, spreading fields,

a lovers lane, open sky to the west.


Today, I find a maze of habitation,

a settlement satisfied with itself,

taking serenity for granted


leaving such little trace;

a pond of sorts surviving,

crude tyre marks of mountain bikes

bloodied by mud at the bank.


I was frank...

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Also by ray pool:



entry picture

Hello from the other side,
from protected words, created lights,
as something small,
something right,
distant signal, so hard to recognize.
I don't feel I can...no I can't,
I can't really write tonight.

Hello from the city streets,
purple in the deep, fading lights
with contrast of white on white,
shattered through the dark,
broken in their half,
I am sorry cause I can't.....

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free writelove poetrypoetrySpoken Word poetrywriting

New Friend

Bipolar one disorder. I did not flinch. Warm and genuine, I liked him right away.

Open mike night. He played guitar. Part of the regular crowd. I had seen him many times, always with a smile.

Beer was good and we talked over the music. It was only our second meeting, yet the conversation flowed with ease. Relaxed and natural.

Been a lawyer he had. But not the "good kind" and he gave me a ...

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Also by Lisa C Bassignani:

A Tractor's Wife | Lisa | And the Mouse Said... | In the Closet | The End is Nigh | Open Mike Night | Eggs | Write or Wrong | Walking |

Love cannot ride a bicycle

Why If I may ask

do you cry?

or crave the centre?

Just a little longer

and I may have helped


Held your hand

a little tighter.

Perhaps a crossword

has the answer.

Yet still you cry.

Is it me or

what I stood in for.

Tears ache their

diamond hard response

too precious to mine.

Perhaps you lack

the pen to answer

the asking clues.



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Also by Tommy Carroll:

These shoes are made for wanting |

Hurt, Haiku

I'd rather die here, now

with pipe dreams in my head

than live long with shattered dreams in my hands.

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Also by Mae Foreman:

Bleak Era | A Thorn In Joy | Girl's Letter To The Beatle | In a Dream | Starchild |




The fractured shards of broken glass, the crash of sirens, the smell of hash

Of pain and hope, intertwined in acid, of mindless rage, the taste of wet grass


I walk in pain, this life a farce. 

Cursed son of Cain, slave to dark arts


To render time, we worms of smoke

For the greatest lie is a tale of hope


To seek truth on a razors edge 

A taste of blo...

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Also by The Carbon Quill:

Goodbye My Friend |

Crowbar 6

fog condensed 

percolated upon the brows

of fallen kings: 

that we descended like spiral staircases

wherein every step 

suspicion creaks like bone 


sheathed just-so

 we are unknown

a swath of heads 

taken, cackling in the streets 

bobbing in gutters, downwind and downgrade 

before meeting Death; 

pummeled and pestled 

squashed, pressed into mortar, 


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Crowbars and where to find them

This Work Is Done

entry picture

This is an old feeling,

standing by this evening’s field,

these dark rags hanging, strung on wire,

beaks silent and unmoving under a stretched sky.


So which lore or gods apply?

Would it help to free your feathers,

wake thought and memory in cold skulls,

wear a black cape in silhouetted brotherhood?


Should I take up your work?

Am I a familiar to a Norse god,


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Also by Jonathan Humble:

Gift | Yew | Red Pencil | Blanket | On The Road To Samaria | Coming Home |


In fine feather
steadfast alone
April beauty blooms
Masculine, feminine
in perfect balance
Sun-kissed petals
of satin pink
a vision of majesty
A tree of Magnolia


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Also by Jane Briganti:

A Butterfly Is Born | Almost There | Overtures | Roads Ahead |




are happy places

brimming with noise and activity

people sit in booths

to eat and drink

but more than that

to talk

about the weather

the family news

about friends and relatives

the word is

that Uncle Joe is getting senile

that the kid has ADHD

that the dog died

the noise is deafening

people shouting across the table

all competing for...

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Also by d.knape:

Sleepy Head | Emojis | The Time Before | Lasting Love | Free Speech | Autism Rhythms | Laughing Gull | First Ride | All In A Day's Work | Grievance Industry | My Life | When Bluebonnets Bloom | Unsolicited E-Mail | Crime Story | Ghost Town | MAN IN A TRUCK | Earnin' Their Keep | Discovery |

The Ties That Bind


Fur coat, no knickers.

No better than she ought to be.

Common as muck.

Too clever for her own good.


Slung out lines to stunt and mould,

ensure she doesn't reach her goals.

Keep her tight inside a box,

locked away from greatness.


Slappers, tarts, MILFs and cougars,

girl next door with Page 3 hooters,

sluts and slags and dirty bitches,

fried egg tits a...

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Also by Laura Taylor:

Immaterial | Proclivitas | Scopaesthesia | Atlas | Cycle Haiku | Triptych | Buzzword Bingo | The Gift | Sustenance Rap | Song Sung Blue | Incomplete | Once Upon a Time | Call and Response | Recipe for Change |

Napowrimo 2019

I slept with a girl (revised for new book)

She was naked, slender, elegant.

Standing before a mirror brushing

her curly natural raven-black hair.

She giggled across the bedroom rug

lifted the bed sheet. Slid beside me.

The headboard tattooed against the wall

in time with our grunting and gasping.

She stretched a hand towards a drawer

where she hid fluffy handcuffs away

I took chocolate cake from the f...

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Also by Rick:

Nothing left to chance |


entry picture





He did everything backards-road round

Put on his coit

And pulled his hat on his eead

Washed his face wi’a wet dish-claht


And I’m like Whatever


Kids were art laiking

Mucking abart

Ran off darn a ginnel


Roobub pie

Waiting back at home


Some spice afore then

A ha’porth’a Spanish

Wash it darn

Wi’a sup er watter



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Also by Ian Whiteley:

AmericaZ | Elegy For A Ghost | Down At The End Of Lonely Street | From The Attic | Martyr | Raising The Standards (With Banners Held High) | The Turning Of The Tide | Vesuvius | Grit | heatwave | A List Of Things We Buried In The Garden | Blue On Blue Contact | Simple Pleasures | Manhattan Morning | The Parable Of The Wolf And The Lamb | In Memoriam | hide and seek | Time To Decide Patsy | Recipe For Disaster |

chatday 20dialectNaPoWriMo 2019poem that talksspoken languageyorkshire

Fit in

once was a sweet inocent young girl

a young girl who always followed the rules

always listen what was told

never disapointed anyone

but she was never happy

always wanted to fit in

and to be loved and to be popular

honestley she would do anything to fit in

even go to places she shoudnt go

like to that party she didnt even want to go to 

but if that meant fitting in


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Also by Justine Ramos:

Today is the day | Pleasure | Lies of Happiness |


EASTER MUSINGS                                                              

First warming sun today at last, to follow

cold, sharp winter; new buds start to dress

the land around, to adorn once more after nature’s rout,

stripping down to stark dark shapes summer-green,

winter-grey trees and hedges, belittled still by

funereal firs, blood-flecked holly, brooding yews.


I s...

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Also by Peter Taylor:


The ghosts who sell memories

entry picture

There's a forty ton truck

Coming his way

Will he sway out of the way?

Or, does he believe that nothing happens by accident?

Are you on your phone, texting your mate?

Hurrying up so you wont be late

Later, will you scream all alone?

Fall into the opposite of mystic,

Sink into real pain?

Dark river flowing

Through your veins

As you moan

like the animal we are


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Also by John E Marks:

An Airy nothing | After the genocide | Good Friday | The drawing of a torch | spring | elegy | The long genocide | Love in a police state | First Person | Teenage Dreams | Blue-remembered | Friend of the Devil | RAINY SEPTEMBER | In the dread of night | Stippled sky | Snow in June | Janissary | Another day | Entanglement (Verschränkung) | Truth | In commemoration of the fall of Kōnstantinoúpolis 29 May 1453 | Along the Unhallowed Way | Why Brexit? | A LURKING | METEMPSYCHOSIS |


entry picture



Thou shalt pass the plate of brass

With felt to deaden the ring of coins

Or take the collection

In bag of leather or bowl of wood

Remembering to avert thine eyes

At the widows mite

And the rich man’s notes.


Thou shalt wear a smile

Of indifference

Even unto those who turn their heads

Or pass the parcel quickly to their neighbour

Or over th...

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Liverpool poetryWelsh PoetryWelsh Poets.David Subacchi


entry picture


Anthropology -
Wonts, in close study -
Provides students with
A good insight on
Many ways to live.

And students well-read
Are oftentimes led,
To Left of Centre -
That happened to me.

With “immigration,”
However, I’m on
The side of all those
Who, questioning “aims,”
Make misled-Left foes.

(C) David Franks 2003 -

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She takes her hand off of the door

Doesn’t quite know what all of this is for

Am I going to never want more

She’s silent, mouth and mind

This woman ever kind

And thinks without meaning to

“My life is gone,

All I knew”

And though she fidgets in high heeled shoes

Her hands move to the knob,

Her heart begins to throb

She feels all weak in the knees

Can someone stop...

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Also by Josie Harris:

Tiny |

When we sit down for tea.

When we sit down for tea

you tell me

nothing makes you more happier

than knowing that you’re loved and

being able to share that love

and for a second I panic.

I panic like everyone else

when they come to something

that they don’t understand.

I panic because

the only love I’ve ever known

comes with a whole host of expectations

of who to love

of when to love


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Also by sanjana shroff:

Freedom. | Illusions. | New beginnings. |

Everyone chooses for himself ...

Everyone chooses for himself:

 A woman, a religion, and the path.

 You can serve the devil or the lass.

Everyone chooses for himself.


Everyone chooses for himself:

A word for love or just a prayer,

 A sword for the duel, shelter as a lair.

 Everyone chooses for himself.


Everyone chooses for himself:

Shield and armor, staff and a hat.

The service to the greed...

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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

The Burning Cathedral |



I am today's protester

Complying with the latest plan;

I use a spray to make my day

Spreading graffiti with aerosol can

And when I can't do it in their halls

I console myself with stuff on walls.


I block the free passage of the road

So workers can't get by

And push the police to "overload"

So that they barely try

To enforce the laws that have been made

To keep...

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Also by M.C. Newberry:


In Tune

Air-guitar and


cutting shapes and



Friday nights with

glam-rock and


Indie bands and

juke boxes,

k-pop to

latin jazz,

mainstream blues with

night-time moves


punk pizzazz.

Queen still reign at

rock and roll,

silky soul,



Van Morrison

wrapped up with


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Also by Trevor Alexander:

Gone | Silence is…. | NaPoWriMo | Irish Logic | One More Bacon Butty | Come Away With Me | Táim sa Bhaile | Erin go Bragh | Soft Day | Reasons To Be Thankful | Every Day? | Older | My Souvenirs | The Big Question | Getting In | Summer’s Day | Wedding | The Match |

NaPoWriMo Day 19

Freedom exists

entry picture

Freedom exists

Thursday,18th April 2019



exists seldom

by one form or another

if there remains no fear


is it a state of mind?

where you find

some restrictions

and mind refuses to give some instructions


even if the country is free

you are made to flee

face the criminal proceedings

and you fear the ending of life


freedom and libert...

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Also by Hasmukh Mehta:

With the destiny | In the time of | A man without | Love's spell | With a resolve | The honest approach | Ultimate end | Bring in secret | Life, like flower | At midnight fear | Can't bear | I feel sorry | Love -only weapon | Slavery-a sacred bond | Towards humanity | No betryal | Even if I am denied | The blood color | Make him flee | Win her heart | World has moved | You are crazy | At the disposal | Hellish experience | Love and depth | Keep mind clear | Great poetess in inaction | In tears and | Let no one think | I ponder | At great distance | No room for | Sorry feelings | Life not barren | Find poetess here | Life is less | Decent death | beauty of life | Someone comes closer | Peace undergrond | Trespass once | You have set | Poets are dead and not poetry | Rise like sun | True sentiments | Fool's day | I feel your name | Real poet and magician |



In hordes they teem this eager flock,

to bring libations un-thought all,

some adorned in hard won wealth,

others come in cheaper cloth

to hear sweet music, retailed hymns,

the bright lit windows hypnotized,

they break warm bread that’s offered there

and drip their faith in litter bins 


Elsewhere some cathedrals lie bereft

cold stone ancient edifices,

warmed by wi...

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Kuchh Sawaal Jawaab

Aks se poochh baitha dil yeh sawaal:


Kaash kabhi aaisa ho…

Koi miley jot um jaisa ho…

Naye kisi ped ki koi shaakh ho…

Patey naye phool aur nayi saakh ho…

Kamzor dil na koi baat kahe ki chot miley…

Aik aas meri hai ki nayi bahaar ke akhrot miley…

Surkh sebo ki tarah mizaaj haseen honth laal ho…

Door kisi pahadi pe ugi makai ke jaise reshmi baal ho…

Husn itna lajawaab...

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Also by ai ou:

I Wore A Frock | Kuchh Soch Yu Hi... | Wonder Woman | श्यामली सलोनी | A Wish List |

The Librarian



He sniffed at Miles Davis in his Pompous English way

but doffed his treasured cap to the tunes of Sid Bechet,

who himself was not a stranger to the pulling of a trigger,

though to one as mean as he was he'd have been a lowly “Nigger”


From High windows he could survey other lesser forms of life,

those toads and grubby proles mired in their strif...

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Also by Wolfgar:

Manuscript | The empty chair | A Lark ascending (thoughts on Vaughan Williams) | A doorway in a northern town | Shoebox | Shoebox |



hung in
the way 
on my
in defensive
when down
took kicks
the hits
here comes
the upper cut
the ropes
down for
the count
back i
could barely
but had
a plan
took the
final swing
won the
with a knockout
i d...

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Also by cindylee loucks:


inspirational poetry

This Friday

This Friday


We depart but have no destination

lost we harbour no hope for the future

We have abandoned all that was given

to pursue the worthless and uncertain

We deceive ourselves and others with us

no answers or alternatives come our way

We engage in animosity and hostility

with backs turned against love and acceptance

We believe we are masters of our own destiny


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Also by keith jeffries:

A New Fabric | Writing | I met a Lady today..... | ora pro nobis | The Harp of Summer´s Joy | Born a Criminal |

The Hypnotist

I am a snake charmer

My father was a snake charmer

And his father and all the fathers

Who came before.

I have inherited the gift

Of charming snakes.

I tame them. I make them dance.

People say that I hypnotise them

But they would be wrong. 

I play my pungi 

I breathe in and out


I sway from side to side 

I fix them with my gaze 

But, if truth be told...

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Also by Hazel ettridge:

The Hypnotist | You and Me | her husband's clothes |

ABOUT A GIRL - for my granddaughter




I knew her once

so long ago

loved her

with pride I watched her grow

and slowly blossom -


and now

she's gone from me

cut from my life

a pale face in an album

a frozen memory

all contact broken


Am I now a total stranger

or would she

by some miracle

half remember

that once we interacted


but all that's changed

my supp...

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Also by Dorothy Webb:


Old age

entry picture

Conscious of it lurking nearby

a malevolent presence

a sinister hazard

its preliminary attacks 

not entirely unexpected.


Suddenly pouncing, leopardlike

prowling in the high dry grass

masking evil intentions

camouflaged by dappled pelt

ready to spring on its prey.


Where had it been skulking?

Hiding in the woodshed

in a little-used cupboard

inside an ...

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Also by Jennifer Malden:

The little girl |


Each one seems to be a grave one to live with.. 
Each one seems capable to reach the conscious zenith.. 
Each one seems to lie as a thorn in the memory... 
Each one seems attenuating and blurry..

Each one seems to last a thousand lifetimes.. 
Each one seems to make one die a million times.. 
Each one seems to be kept preserved as keepsakes.. 
Each one seems to be forgotten as the day brea...

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Also by mona s:

The Soul | The Tree | Twilight | Growing apart | What Dreams are made of.. | Nonet -Frangipani | Fragments | Pregnant Blue | The Portrait | Magic | Clouds | Pleiades - An enchanting valley |

Ystrad Fflur: Dusk

Who will ever tell or know

the unheard silent echoes

from passing lives laid low:

those ghosts of chanted psalms

once melodious in their praise

lie buried beneath the turf

within walls they helped to raise;

and who can see the cowled monks

whose ghostly whispered prayers

whose canticle or hymn

whispers through the evening's airs -

through the great stone entrance a...

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Also by Chris Armstrong:

Evening Light | Past's Prologue | Fight! Fight! | Nadir |

abbeyCeredigionduskghostsmistsmonasterymonksprincesStrata FloridaWalesYstrad Fflur


entry picture

The time was running out I’m feeling low

We’re 4-2 down cos of Aguerro

Then it turns round with Llorente’s goal

But will the goal be disallowed

A deathly hush falls upon the ground

The verdict waited by the silent crowd


But there’s VAR Man watching from the stand

He sees that it’s come off his hip and didn’t hit his hand

And the VAR Man says it’s not Handball

The re...

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Also by John Coopey:




I was Fifteen years old and starting my first job. The day itself a blur

Notable for my first instruction, given with relaxed assurance from a giant of a man

Six Foot Six, size 15’s, I’d never seen a man so tall and

Me a schoolboy by comparison. 

‘Pass me those tools,’ he said. Tommy Bills was his name                                           

Built like the prove...

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Also by trevor homer:



Everything I achieved

Is part guilt

Part coffee

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But for you

entry picture

But for you

I would not be alone


But for you

There would have been one more at home


But for you

The unknowing would not feel so cold


But for you

I’d feel more joy in growing old


But for you

My mind might be at rest


But for you

Life may have been less of a test


But for you

A single race I have run


But for you

I can plac...

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Also by Graham Parker:

Fleeting persistence | House | Watering Can | Borders | Walk on part | Tribute | Born in the shadow of a mountain | Black Confetti | Caledonian Secrets |

griefmissing someonesorrowTwins


Reasons he had plenty

To not steal tomorrow 

As the night faded

Inhaled in the morning 

Was all but regret

He vowed to he’d be ready

But greed won again

The day after came

Still not tomorrow 




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Also by Reggie:

Years |

Senryu 1

Clouds running leeward

Far; stretched to the horizon

Freedom for the eyes 


Cherry blossoms fall

Softly upon the water

Flowing through the soul 


Willow dappled light 

Dances lightly on my soul

Always in my hart


Nightly you appear 

To masquerade as moonlight 

deceit in your stealth 

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Wind Birds | Three Senryu (I think) | Crimson | The seer | Ballad of the Willow |

The Best Way to Grieve for a Child

They never changed that room.
Dolls, teddy bears, trains,
And transformers all hold space,
Lock time in perpetual stasis.
When death comes life stops.

Family said they should pack
Things away. It’s too hard
To be reminded day after day
Of a future lost in the past,
But a room can be a memorial.

It’s a museum of childhood,
Until a child of a later
Generation discovers it with

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Also by Randy Horton:

On Bodily Autonomy and Geriatric Femininity | The Burdened Bookshelf as Will and Representation | The Impact of Utilitarianism on Unsuspecting Feet | The Magic and Mystery of Ministry | On the Disastrous Art of Losing | Texas Tornadoes and the Power of Prayer | Life, Love, and Leaving in Livingston, Texas | On the Destructive Power of Measureable Learning Objectives | If Gratitude Were Horses, We'd Never Fear A Stampede | Accepting an Infinite Regression of Causes | On The Odd Quality of Trumpets in the Mist | The Distinct Challenges of Hyperfocus | The Unintended Consequences of Complimentary Behavior | The Unreasonable Demands of April |


I want to sleep

i want to sleep,

my eyes are tired,

my brain is blank,

my body wants to collapse,

but i can't.


i want to sleep,

the pillow is so soft,

the bed is calling,

the blanket is nice,

but i can't.


i want to sleep,

and having a sweet dreams,

and nothing to think,

and wake up in the morning,

but i can't.


i think, it is because of,

a cup of coffe...

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Shadowed Images

Go before a wintered moon,

And wash the floors with blood,

Calvary shed tears for fallen men.


The saddened shape of wallowing mothers,

Forgotten besides a rock half hearted,

Blue in the garden of afterimaged suns.


Follow me in the bask of glory!


A sanctity of food,

And willowed aspects of what of you?

The swallowed end of a dream to be,

Flailing in moti...

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Also by Adrian Metcalf:

Goodnight | Delinquent | Continue On | Let's begin again | It is |

The burning of one's church

Churches have been burning everywhere

For various reasons since their creation

Some made of wood and stone

Most of beliefs and hopes

Each time the fire takes everything on its path

Leaving behind either ashes and water, or delusion and despair

In equal parts

Each time the scorching heat inside the soul



Now the cathedral is on fire

People congregate fro...

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Also by Jeannot:

The possibility of a garden | Let me tell you | Listen | Correspondence | Waste of time | Coming back |

Last Chemo Session

'Last chemo session! Ring the bell three times!'

Said the sign on the wall beside the big, metal hub.


I had hesitated, but a smiling attendant

A gentleman, a very gentle man from front desk

Hopped to the kitchen

And returned with two, huge, metal spoons.

He pressed them into my hand. 'Go for it!'

And I struck the silver gong three times:


The clan...

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