Funny Guy – You Little Charmer

https://afragilemind.home.blog/

I like
it when
you laugh

He said

I wish
you’d do
it more

Just write
another
paragraph

She said

Then you’ll
really see
me roar

for more from this author, click here: https://afragilemind.home.blog/

image: pixabay

Sparkle – Mark Ryan (Havoc and Consequences)

https://havocandconsequence.wordpress.com/

Placing hands on such skin.
Wishing to dive right in.
And swim, in the soul full of diamonds.
I broke you out amber.
Pulled away the tar and thick oil.
Which stained my hands and heart.
One kiss pulls me under.
One word lifts me up.
The vibrations are clear, and stardust tells no lies.
For heaven assumed.
Once prayed and pried out of the sky.
I hold and cherish like a precious jewel.
Sparkle.
Dazzle.
And blind the light which banishes the dark.
Such unearthed treasure.
I keep you inside my bones.
To keep away the cancer.

 BY MARK RYAN

for more from Mark at ‘Havoc and Consequence’, click here: https://havocandconsequence.wordpress.com/

They and Her- Kritika

charm of her face
disturbed many souls
why is she happy?
when life is difficult for us all

‘spreading positivity
from the outside
buried the hurdles
courageously inside’

none knows the truth
peeking and poking
following her like sleuth
ignored they feel as carelessly she moves

‘growing wings to fly
dreams are to reach the sky
sit on the moon and sing
busy crafting her wings’

jealousy causing rage
people are not ashamed
gossiping about her at every stage
finding more wrongs in her fame

‘loving self, she preferred
procrastination always deferred
understanding each and every word
she will soon take off like a powerful bird’

@ Kritika

for more from Kritka at ‘Undressed Thoughts’, click here: https://undressedthoughts.com/

A Clean Sink is Necessary – River Dixon

https://thestoriesinbetween.com/

I can’t get the stain

From my hands

Scalding, castile mornings

Bleach and razor blades

Sloughing the scale from

Flaking, disintegrating fingers

Clogged drain, mold and hair

Alcohol drips with purpose

Down the leading edge

Of your grandfather’s

Antique barber’s shears

Ceremoniously honed

For such an occasion

Nails, one, two, another

Meticulously torn

From the cuticle, bleeding

Next, the fingers are easily

Cut, what’s left, removed

Walls painted, room filled

Adorned with sickness

The cleansing requires depth

And the process unforgiving

Until forgiveness is found

Among the scattered

Remnants of exposure

The stain spreads, up the arm

Past the elbow, shoulders

Brittle, greasy hair, wired

The stain shrouds the scalp

Clumps, tufts fall, decorating

The porcelain beneath sticky feet

Toes spread to collect the offering

It’s better this way

Or at least necessary, to unravel

Shine some light on what sleeps

At the core of all this

Before the hands grow back

And the stain returns

to read more from River Dixon at ‘The Stories In Between’: https://thestoriesinbetween.com/

Unseen —David Green

If only I could
Tell her how much I love her – want
To be with her

But all I can
Do is dance with her in a dream on
The clouds

For she is just a
Wisp of my over active imagination
The ghost who

Haunts my past
My one and only companion unseen
By anyone else

Read —David Green – The Soul of a Poet

Dreamers Ordeal -Wildheart

There’s so many things to do and so little time… 

Dreams to be achieved

Records to be set 

Adventures to be seeked

Parents to be made proud

Dream house to be bought 

Gym to be hit

Healthier life to be lead

Fine literature to be read 

Books to be written

Movies to be watched 

Friends to be caught up with 

And on and on goes the list.

Yet nothing has been done… 

And day by day I grow older

And lot more lazier

Lot more demotivated. 

I see my life pass by 

As if it’s someone else’s.

I wake up tired 

Go to sleep tired 

I live tired 

Each day stealing a part of me

That I myself am unknown to.

Million of thoughts in my mind

Not one I can comprehend. 

Then I try and I try and I try

On and on again…

To get a grip of myself 

Only to find myself falling apart.

Pulled apart by millions of thoughts

Then I try to empty my mind,

Only to drown in imagination again.

Yet again I kill a day.

Not an inch closer to my dream

There goes the cycle of my life

Trying to get control of myself. 

But then I see a glimer of hope

As I see myself rise again 

It matters not, how many times I fall apart

I keep trying every single day 

Even when I’m beaten and battered 

I know I’ll rise again another day.

So I try and try and try

Eyes on the goal

Gripping myself together. 

Cause there’s so many things to do and so little time…

-LostSoul 

Read —Wild Heart ♥️ (We all start somewhere.)