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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in poetry's LiveJournal:

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Wednesday, December 13th, 2017
11:18 am
[dartheknight]
never really gone

I DONT EVEN KNOW WHERE TO START
ITS HARD TO WRITE WITH A BROKEN HEART
SO MUCH MORE I WANTED TO SAY
BUT OUR TIME WAS SHORT
AND YOU WENT AWAY
AND A PART OF ME DIED WITH YOU
AND I CANNOT GET THAT BACK
BUT YOU STILL LIVE ON IN MY HEART
SO THERE IS NO LOOKING BACK
AS LONG AS I HAVE YOUR MEMORY
AS LONG AS I CAN SEE YOUR SMILE
I CAN FIND THE STRENGTH TO CARRY ON
AND WALK ANOTHER MILE   
I CANNOT SAY GOOD BYE TO YOU
AS YOU ARE STILL WITH ME
AND AS LONG AS MY HEART KEEPS BEATING
YOU ARE NEVER REALLY GONE. 


https://rachelmaynichols.blogspot.com/2017/07/never-really-gone.html

11:11 am
[dartheknight]
days that end in why

I only think of you
on days that end in y
sometimes i have to stop
and wipe the tears from my eyes
you were my little girl
no one can replace
i like to think that we
will meet again some day
your smile lit up the room
youre always in my heart
and as long as i have your memory
we are never far apart          


8.15.17


doctoredoom.blogspot.com

Monday, March 13th, 2017
11:34 pm
[lorelaimaria]
Eternity of Joy and Sorrow
Eternity of Joy and Sorrow
The joyous snow, the grieving sea
Are all a part
Of your love to me…
The light skies, the dark trees
Are all signs
Of our eternal bond, you see…
And when you’re cold,
I’ll melt the snow
To make you warm
Right up to me…
And when you laugh,
I’ll turn the seas
So you can sail
Away with me…
And when you fade,
I’ll light the skies
As you disappear
Right into me…
And though the light skies, the faint breeze
All play tricks on my mind, you see
The way you smile
Will always shoot
Both joy and sorrow straight through me…
11:22 pm
[lorelaimaria]
Why the Angels Cry
Why the Angels Cry

The angels cry in solemn skies, while I pray our love never dies.
The Fates weave the fabric of our lives…
And all too sudden turn the tides.
While rain falls like teardrops from the sky,
Our cruel fortunes forever intertwined,
Reverberate throughout in time-
Which once had stopped for you and I-
Now keeps ticking aimlessly as it reminds
That we are doomed and destined till the end of time
To be apart, not side by side…
As misfortune drives
The heart grows weary, cold and wild…
And from above they hear our muffled cries
They see a life full of wonder and surprise,
But heavy fall in it’s demise…
And this is why the angels cry.
11:20 pm
[lorelaimaria]
Till the End of Time
Till the End of time
The tide will turn,
The sea will rise,
And I will drown
In your sorrowful eyes…
The snow will melt,
The leaves will fall,
And I will fade into you
As the sirens call…
The storm will peak,
And time will stand,
To wait for us
Or slip through the sand…
The tempest will cease,
As the clock’s hand looks for a sign
That we’ll never part,
Till the end of time…
Monday, September 29th, 2014
9:16 am
[duxrow]
A Question of Time
Question of Time, Ecc3
The question that is asked the most: we hear it every day,
"What time is it?", they want to know, and then they go away.
It's time for bed or time for work or time to feed the fishes,
It's time to take your medicine, or wash and dry the dishes.

Time in seconds, time in hours, so many freckles past a hair,
Depending on the Zone, or whether Daylight Saving's there.
Time is measured many ways, from minutes to the months,
Time is what keeps everything from happening at once!

A time to live, a time to die, a time for having fun,
Clocks and calendars alike, all scheduled by the sun.
Intervals that can't be hurried, will not be denied,
A season that we know is coming, as surely as the tide.

If there ever comes a time when time will be no more,
I wonder how we'll know to quit, or when it was before.
Do we hurry? Do we loaf? It depends upon the time...
Had we started earlier, we'd be finished with this rhyme.
Thursday, August 14th, 2014
2:37 pm
[pound808]
Medusa





I too, am subject to her fantasies
Flinging things around,
Leaving in their wake impediments of gloom.

I too, am subject to her frowns
And paralyzing tides
Clattering chaotic in their underwater shelves.

I too am subject to her whims -- those rancid
Thoughts that unify her dreams,
Those siren swells

And scenes of rabid light
The gray goddess weaves
And furiously imparts into her mind!
Sunday, August 10th, 2014
11:24 am
[ext_2719858]
Tuesday, April 15th, 2014
2:01 pm
[duxrow]
Letting Go
Living life to the full on the slippery bank,
Excitement and danger like a tiger in the tank!
The adrenalin full flowing, the wind in your face,
Try anything once, and don't let up the pace..
On a gut wrenching high, always out on the town,
But knowing for sure what goes up must come down.

When your candle of yearning is lit at both ends
and you earnestly struggle at making amends..
To regain control of your life and your fate
To vomit forever what looked good on the plate.
You find out the monkey for sure isn't frail,
And the part of the tiger you have is the tail!
Saturday, April 12th, 2014
9:15 pm
[rebelwaste]
History/Herstory (Poem)

4-12.14

Passe-Partout(if history were written on rings of trees)

If the rings of trees could write or speak the past and history

     Of the proud and the meek

     Of the strong and the weak

            History would not be written by the victor

It would be written by a just passé-partout of earths earliest ancestors

     For the rings of trees

            Would hold skeleton keys

                   To the many locked tomes

                         Of history

     For the rings of trees would be like a picture frame

            Framing in

                   Like a carpenter

                         The building that houses

                                The gallery

                         Of veracious paintings and delineations of old antiquity

     For the rings of trees would become the paper for this very purpose

            The true account of herstory

                   Unfettered by consciousness

                         And chauvinism and bellicism

                         And preconception and illiberality

1:43 pm
[rebelwaste]
Differences (Poem)

4-11.14

Difference Is Not Damning

The tree stands out among a background of evergreens

      Its branches barren

      Till the coming of spring

Some would look upon this tree as worthless

      For it does hold the beauty of leaves

             Tell that to the birds

             And the chipmunks

             And the squirrels

                    Who reside in is form

Too often

      In the human world

             Very much different than the natural world

      Difference and standing out against the backdrop of glib commonality

             Is seen as worthless

                    Or even dangerous

What if the roles were reversed?

What if it was a lone evergreen against a backdrop of barren trees?

It would be the outcast

      Like the lone Goth kid

             Against the backdrop of their

                    American Family

Or for that matter

      The lone business college graduate

             Suit and tie in all

                    Against the backdrop

                           Of his flower-power parents

Difference is not damning

Difference is beautiful

Because in a room of two

      Both are different

      If they are not the same

Friday, April 11th, 2014
7:30 am
[duxrow]
Rite Writing
RITE WRITING
The fiery finger of GOD wrote The Law
in the tablets of stone,
And once a year the blood of a goat
did for their sin atone.

That Old Covenant they had was for
the purpose of teaching a lesson,
and now we have a better deal,
'cause the blood is real,
and we're no longer guessin'!

The gentle finger of Jesus wrote the
Law of Love in the dust on the ground.
His forgiveness of the woman adulteress
was an act of this truth so profound.

He was the one who became the goat for us,
and also the ram in the thicket..
He is the Lamb that covers our sin,
and gives righteousness to the wicked.

The literal truth comes first,
and leads to the abstract truth of the poet,
And the things recorded in His Book
have a deeper meaning: Don't you know it?

It may not be just what you think,
because the language was once confounded,
But it will surely enlighten your eyes,
if your brain hasn't been impounded.
Thursday, April 10th, 2014
11:35 pm
[rebelwaste]
Happy for Individuality (Poem)

4-10.14

Day #34-Individuality

Pink and white

     Western sakura blossoms of spring

Branches and blossoms hanging down

     Pointing to the earth

            Through gravity

                   Like wedded rain falling from invisible clouds

The vastitude of all the metal framed forests

     In all the misnomered commonwealth's of capitalism

            Pale in comparison to the beauty of this single tree

                   Whose white blossoms

                          Like snowflakes

                   Are a multitude of color in comparison to the pale of the cities

This single tree and its unique artistry is easily over looked

     In the hustle of factory lives

            Like the individual beauty of a person is lost to the urbanization of                  
                                  Loud

                   Adamant

                   Conventional vacuity

12:46 pm
[duxrow]
Brain Train
Brain Train by Bob Smith of Foreman AR

It doesn't have to use big words or veiled innuendo,
Nor does it have to meter up enlightening crescendo.
But poetry should teach, or pose premeditated thought,
Making clear with words so dear, what everybody ought.

The lines don't have to be so long, but when it's just a dabble,
My train comes to a Crossword and turns into a Scrabble.
It doesn't have to use clichès, like "Beauty is as Beauty does",
But the eye of the beholder shouldn't always fill with fuzz.

It doesn't really have to have a punch-line or a grabber,
but poetry that doesn't rhyme has a tendency to blabber.
Even so, Poetic License is like the exception to the rule,
The fun of saying it diversely is our most portentous tool!

The subject of the rhyme is like a trip from here to there,
Hopefully the journey doesn't leave you in the air.
Of course when it leaves you laughing, you'll probably be back..
To say the poem o'er again, and get the train back on the track.
Monday, April 7th, 2014
10:43 pm
[rebelwaste]
Alone with Depression (Poem)
4-7.14

Widow Willow

A lone
      Sullen
             Tree exists in the dark ground
Surrounded by
      Green
             Luscious grass

It is sullen
      For it appears as a willow
             Two L’s
             Replace a D
                    And the sullen nature is seen with a human face
                           In deep sadness at the loss of her life partner
                           Estranged now from the wholeness of her mate

So often the lonely and destitute are left alone
      Even in a luscious life of green
             Red
             Gold
             Many colors of happy beauty we perceive from the outside
             The lone widow willow is left in their loneliness
All the beauty around them is achromic
      This is the power of depression
      This is what to fight

For depression is not cured by desert oasis
      Beautiful and plentiful
             It is still isolated by the sands of ignorance

For the lone trees
      Plant yourself around them
             Not intertwined in interaction
      Just plant yourself so that you are there
             And they are no longer alone
10:40 pm
[rebelwaste]
Introspection about Nature (Poem)
4-7.14

Stand a Mile In Their Roots

The dense forest stands before
      I stand amidst and in front at the same time
No trodden path of previous wanderers
      The trees are the only natural residents of this land

The trees stand together
      Far apart or close
They are together in this colorful growth

They stand there together
      Performing their photosynthesis
             Expelling the achromic oxygen
             And ingesting carbon dioxide that we eminate

We stand with them as symbiotic neighbors
      Surviving on each other’s gifts of air
Yet with the urbanization of cities
      These forests with trees will be mere history in the future

If the roles were reversed
      Would the trees lose us to the annals of their history?
             Written on our skins
5:53 pm
[duxrow]
Tree of Degrees
Tree of Degrees by Bob Smith of Foreman

Little by little we take the land,
Wondering how to understand.
Babes and youth and adults too,
Forks of life are sorting through.
Chewing the cud of what it means,
Swallowing knowledge like turnip greens.

Little by little we grow and store
How two and two add up to four.
Digesting all the relevant fact,
Trying to keep the train on track.
Washing down the bread with wine,
Brings elation every time!

Step by step the tree is bent,
Shaped by learning's pure cement.
Inclined up to the higher ground,
Washed ashore by Thinking's Sound.
Adding branches; some with fruit,
Settling down and taking root.

In time a haven for views to nest,
Little by Little comes the Rest..
Storms have altered our physique,
and by degrees we grow antique.
So we who once were just a seed,
Have now become a different breed!
Thursday, April 3rd, 2014
6:36 pm
[rebelwaste]
Daily Stress (Poem)
4-3.14

Trees and Daily Life

A lone tree on the horizon
      At the forefront of ta grey cloud saturated sky
             A lamppost at the forefront of that
                    Taller than the tree only because perception dictates

Both stand as monuments of stalwart perseverance through daily standard weather and wear
     
Overtime the lamppost will die a lifeless death

The tree will remain a symbol to take what the world gives
      And remain standing
      Even when rain and wind bedash its trunk
             It remains
                    Only to be toppled by man-made influence
                           Or calamitous nature patterns

Take the daily ordeals of life as a tree
Wednesday, April 2nd, 2014
9:34 pm
[rebelwaste]
Happyness and Trees (Poem)
Day #26-Learning From Trees

A tree
            Leaning like the Tower of Pisa
All visual data suggests instability
            But the roots are deep and strong
            There is still much life in its trunk
                        And limbs
                        And leaves
                      
I like trees
Forever ambiverted
            Stoic and isolated
            Or in the fray of a forest
                        Intertwined with its brothers and sisters
          
They can be stoic and still at times
            Statues created by Mother Nature’s sculpting hand
                        Existing longer than the statues of man
                        Eating through rock
                                    And steel
                        Sustained by only a little water
                                    And a little sun
                                    Self sufficient

We can learn from trees how to be more life sustaining

Or they can be wild and free at other times
          
Resurging after a destructive fire
Or a destructive axe                 
            Becoming fuel for natures fires
                        And man’s fires

Wild to our imaginations
            The branches becoming nightmare hands in the dark of a black forest
Wild in growth
            No controlling influence telling it where
                        And how to grow

We can learn from the trees how to be more independent
            And less controlling

We can learn from trees
Tuesday, April 1st, 2014
9:33 pm
[rebelwaste]
2 Metaphors (Poem)
4-1.14

Hanging Empty

A broken bird feeder hangs crookedly from a barren tree
Red with clear plastic
      Famine
             Picked clean or dumped out
                    Taken for what it’s worth
             Leaving it to hang in silence

The image is sullen and sad
      So similar to how many of us treat others
             Even occasionally
             Even without sociopathic intent

The red and clear bird feeder hangs
      Swaying in the light breeze
             That refreshes the lungs of you or I
             But leaving the emptiness of the vessel more apparent
                    For the weightlessness of the plastic container allows for greater manipulation by the wind
                    And for the pull of gravity to be weakened



The truth in metaphor reminds that the empty void of the soul in loneliness and affray
      Opens the vitality of a restful mind to greater
             Attack
                    And manipulation by the winds
                           And gravity
                           And a capriccio of time
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