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Dhamma Vicaya f/ Jamadhi VersePrayers leave your feet / With every step in front of you, / A rising sun made kaleidoscope

The sword of poetryI remember back when / I performed my poetry for the first time / In front of a whole 107 people.

@TheLazyPoetX30

You and Me to be continued... for badwordsDo you believe in miracles? / I do, more than before. / I know a hand will not grow back,

@Agnes-de-Lodz54

3

Palimpsest with Fire-Bombing TeethHe finds her work the way a cut finds salt— / by accident, by hunger, by the old compass that turns toward ache. / He sits with the pixeled book open like a door blown inland by weather,

EyesEndless depths in a naked reality / Crafted from the glass of the Milky Way / So that a brush of sunlight could sweep them away

In Another LifeIt was not a meeting... / not in the way the world counts meetings, / with names exchanged

The Things I Am NotI am not the things that have happened to me. / Let those words stand like a cup on the table, / plain, chipped, steadfast ...

Beneath the FrostBefore dawn / the sky is the colour / of opened flesh,

MYSTERIOUS DIARYAn empty house. / Open doors. / A broken windowpane.

@Blue-Sapphire13

Empathy's deadLast week I read / A sign that said / "Empathy's dead"

@PeterGerstenmaier15

For Blue SapphireSome poets arrive / wearing crowns. / They bring long words

The Rock That MurmursThere are tales they tell by the Rheinland swell / Where the cliffs stand gaunt and grey, / And the river runs through a thousand suns

CharterWe sign nothing on paper. / We take oaths / the way frost takes a field—

He's Gone (I wouldn't hurt a fly pt 2)I haven't seen him for twelve hours, but who's counting / Well, I must confess that would be me / He has vanished, and I haven't a clue where he may be...

@kim-johanna-baker23

11

The Time FadesTo rise above all the voices that tried to bring me down, / The gestures that wound, the silences meant to hurt. / I dreamed of a vengeance that would soothe my heart,

For Nat Lipstadt "Poplar and Maple"Delicate poplar clouds / were carried away by the strong wind / together with the spinning wings of maple seeds

@Agnes-de-Lodz34

Indian SummerThere are summers / that arrive after the harvest. / Not true summers—

Poets Dont Write About Their Greatness BY: Martin Listowell HansonPoets do not write about their greatness. / The moon does not announce its beauty / before silvering the rivers at night.

@MartinListowell51

South Dakota InterludeI have seen a country / where hunger wears clean shoes in one room / and no shoes at all in the next.

The Woman I Buried In MarbleWhen you died by your hand / I carried you into the mountains of my mind / and buried you there in marble.

BEYOND ORDINARY.You, my beloved, were never ordinary but extraordinary. / Life, sometimes, is unjust for the people who are just, / For the mundane, the uninspired,

@ZainabSiddiqui10

2

I Wouldn't Hurt A FlyHe touched my hand so gently that it was barely noticeable / I assured him that he was welcome & that I wouldn't hurt a fly / He didn't answer me when I honoured the True One within--

@kim-johanna-baker17

33

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