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Nat Lipstadt Dec 2020
just before never...

my last performance,
the words came original
and easy, unlike all its
predecessors; someone
drew me a map of my
life and times, cities,
countries, and roads
well travelled and a few,
not too. Mountains, each with
a woman’s name, who carried
care, until she couldn’t, didn’t, and
time’s weathering returned us
individually into hillocks, and then
rain eroded us back into old soil.

the broad highways and back roads,
always snaking away, fork-forcing
directional choices, usually taking the
wrong way, the easy and safe one,
and how I have come to hate those
words: easy and safe, for they
are the pill combo that leaves you
for dead, dulling the questioning
one inquires of oneself, late, reluctantly.

But there is always the unexpected.

Today I saw a sunset on the Hudson
River with a humpback whale blowing,
running beside a river ferry, plowing the
waters back and forth tween two states.

Lived by this river for s e v e n t y years,
and have seen the whales in many places,
but here, in my city, in the river of my youth,
never.

and I got the sign, message received, there
are still sights and poems to behold, arms to
embrace, youngers to guide if they’ll permit it.

so this title, these two,
just before,
this day, poem, came to remind me, the
days map remains unfinished, there are lands
and voyages and poems still awaiting drawing,
and it is tomorrow, and just before tomorrow, that
recording insistent demands, and a map is just a
moment in time, until just before...never



5:28 AM Thu Dec 10
2020 (a year deserving
of its own line and ending)

Manhattan, between two rivers.
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EovXVHyXcAAHXax?format=jpg&name=large
Steve Page Sep 2020
I lift my pen from the page
and smell the coming rain
I hear the rising wind
and sense gathering pain

and as the scouting drizzle coats my face
I smile, because I have my compass
I have a North Star and the maps I made
when I came this way before

I know I can navigate these hills
and I can form a new stanza
to take me through to the meadows
that wait for me there
I navigate by poetry
Steve Page Sep 2020
The map is not the territory, but oh, how we need the map and a trusted map maker.  And who better, but the maker of all.
Astrea Aug 2020
Map
Looking at the map,
my eyes find their way to the unnamed borders,
the many lines that divide the land
and the sea,
the civilised,
and the savage.
I dimly wonder
if those lines are truly the ends of the earth,
or are they beginnings of a new world?
Amanda Kay Burke Jul 2020
I was remembering when we were new
Love was an uncharted land
Our time was spent navigating
Mapping bodies with both hands

And tough times built us mountains
To ensure we would grow strong
Standing solid through the struggle
You were my rock when things went wrong

All the lovely sleepless nights
Spent texting thoughts and fears
Were the beginning of our voyage
We were unwitting pioneers

Although the departure was scary
I knew I had no choice but to start
Despite the danger and risk of failure
Instincts said 'follow your heart'

So we decided to set sail together
Though neither had yet steered a ship
Our commitment and passion kept us above waves
The duration of our trip

When the water turned rough and choppy
We almost began to sink
On the paper used to draw our course
Temporarily ran out of ink

It was you who saved me from drowning
When I foolishly jumped off the boat
Abandoned our vessel in fear of shipwreck
With one oar you made us float

Forgiveness forged a way to shore
Filled the pen with tears and blood
So we could continue cartography
From the place the picture smudged

We have come a great distance since that day
But still have a lot left to explore
Though the diagram of our hearts is complete
Life is still showing us more

Thick woods
Green fields
Dry deserts of sand
Our feelings guide us through it all
Our graph gets larger as time passes
And harder for you I fall

The route we travelled was complex
There were easier by far
But the difficult terrain molded us
Into the people we now are

Our direction was not influenced
But entirely our own
I'd rather our tumultuous journey
Than a simple one alone

Because you are my final destination
No matter where our path may lead
Location is irrelevant
When your arms are the only home I need

I never knew our relationship
Would be the atlas discovered
But I hope you realize I'm grateful
For each millimeter uncovered

I can't explain the overwhelming attraction
The magnetism connecting us two
But from the moment we met one thing was certain
My soul's compass pointed straight to you
This one was quite the challenge. Even had to bust out the old thesaurus.. hence the word "cartography" haha
Patterson Jun 2020
"I'm okay" "I'm okay"
whispering to myself, hanging upside down
tears dripping down to my toes
when I break down mid stretch.
"Just breathe darling"
I coach myself, nearly rocking back and forth
on the wooden floor
while the clock reads 12
and everyone else is asleep.

The muscles wrapped around my chest
and my back draw tighter still
-like piano strings:
they wait, poised for the merest sound of footsteps.
And the air doesn't quite find my lungs
my mind won't come off high speed
and I thrash through piles of *******
to find the water-stained, warped, ripped notebook
and a gaudy pen.

Then I begin to scribble, compose,
quietly wail and rage
as stroke for stroke
I map out my traumas and my guilt;
            slowly tattooing my hurt
            like poetry on my skin.
Erian Rose May 2020
Her palm was a guide
lightning bugs stitched in the stars
Ashlyn Yoshida May 2020
Map
Do not fear tomorrow
for tomorrow will never come
do not fear the past
for the past is already done

do not cry for approval
for approval gives no bread
do not weep for the dying
instead laugh with the dead

follow the path of gravestones
decorated with gold
follow the dark and the light
to see which one takes hold

listen to the bird call
follow the raven's trail
listen to the wolf howl
watch him shake his tail

run as fast as we can

back to where it began
Devin Ortiz Apr 2020
My falling out with the Cartographer was not absolute.
Though it's easy to notice when the deep gravity of the Universe,
has been reduced to the mundane whispers of the ordinary.

The strength of loyalty is tested in these blind walks of faith.
As the world unfolds beneath my feet, the mind too does wander.
Hidden worlds vibrate between reality and fiction.
I map this microcosm of the known, to reach the ever after.

And so it goes that in my purposeful aimlessness, I'll find the road back.
Every excuse will always be, but letting go will set me free.
Free to once again entangle creation's creativity.
دema flutter Apr 2020
comfort
is such a foreign zone
that I long for,

a land that I can't seem to
be able to spot
on any map,

people tell me
its borders are indefinite,

and i tell them,
please take me
to the mother
I have never known.
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