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Steve Page May 21
Foller Gillโ€™s story treads
seemingly softly, rhythmically,
leaves their fresh green mark
beyond the grey, beaten paths.

Foller Gill takes
the much lesser-trod course,
searches deeper, further, takes
secrets to their mainstream beck.

Euden Beck strides
hungry, curiously thirsty,
pushes past the slow, shaded fields,
scorns their hemmed-in universe.

Bedburn Beck ambles,
tramples down all resistance,
insistent in their pursuit
of an ancient destiny.

The Wear wanders,
snakes towards their final estuary,
savors the holy promise,
the gift of the free, North Sea.

Foller Gill bathes
unbound in their ocean.
And their legend continues.
After Inversnaid, by Gerard Manley Hopkins.
https://allpoetry.com/Inversnaid
Youโ€™ll find Foller Gill in the North Pennines National Landscape, as it starts its journey East.
reydmh May 19
Trotoar yang basah
karena es yang mencair,
Ungkapan penyesalan
beserta cacian terlontarkan.
Seseorang memilih hidup di masa lalu,
Seseorang yang ingin merubah semuanya,
Seseorang yang ingin mencari tujuan,
Kita semua punya dosa masing-masing bukan
"Kami tertawa kami sepakat
ini semua baru permulaan."

Beberapa pria sulit menceritakan hal buruk
yang terjadi pada dirinya,
Beberapa dari kita terjebak dalam rutinitas
yang tidak pernah kita sukai,
Pola yang berulang setiap pekan.
21 yang menyebalkan, namun penuh pelajaran
Kami melempar dadu yang sama berkali-kali dan menebak angka yang salah,
Kami anggap ini skakmat kehidupan
Menunggu dimakan atau membalas menyerang.

2025
reydmh
Cadmus May 21
๐Ÿš‚

We board with desire.

We return with clarity.

And somewhere between the stations,

we learn

What was attainable.

And what was worth carrying.

๐ŸšŠ
This poem captures the quiet transformation that time brings. We begin our journey burdened with ambition, desire, and expectationโ€”only to return tempered by experience, having shed what we once thought essential. Itโ€™s a meditation on simplicity, loss, and wisdom.
Why BE lost at Sea
Screaming let me BE

You are not alone
On your own

When you fly through Everything
Hear your heart Sing

My Heart Knows
I'm Never Alone.

by Debra Lea Ryan & Life
18.02.2025
โ˜€โ™ฅฦธำœฦทโœฟโ™ฌ
In song @ You Tube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aN0kCqkAUxE
Kshamata T May 17
As a child, I never understood the need for basic necessities. Strangely, even as a teenager, that understanding never came.

Then one morning, everything changedโ€”not because I craved a luxurious lifestyle. I never asked for that.
Growing up, I always watched my mom earn every penny. So naturally, I started walking in her footsteps. But now, I find myself on the other side of the table. Iโ€™m the one in need.

When you've always earned everything, asking for help feels harder than working endlessly. And nowโ€”Iโ€™m supposed to ask.
The picture I had of myself at 16 never included asking for the bare minimum.

And yet, here I am, staring at myself at my worst. Seeking help. Trying to understand the blurred lines between the bare minimum, basic needs, and luxury.

Back then, talking about everyday chores was part of small talk. Now, finding someone willing to have that conversation feels impossible.
I never knew growing up would mean lowering my standardsโ€”in food, shelter, clothing... even companionship.

Being the elder daughter has always meant one thing: earn everything, ask for nothing.

The strange part? Earning is still easier.
New to the world of writing!
Trying to improve the journey ...
Grey May 14
If weeds could thriveโ€”
Grow under duress,
Withstand the stomping,
Cling to minimal breath,
Evade the stormโ€”
Then I want to be one.

Noโ€”
I am one.

But the downfall,
Itโ€™s a weakness:
Weeds get wiped out faster.
They welcome death
By choking what breathes beside them.
And so do I.
I realize.

I thought my forte was depthโ€”
Roots dug well.
But now itโ€™s dried, cracked,
And starting to burn
Others with it.
Cadmus May 14
I see the endings in their birth,
The wilt curled in the bloom,
The echo in the first soft word
That hums of pending gloom.

Yet on I go, with knowing steps,
Down paths that twist and burn
Not for hope, nor fate, nor faith,
But just to feel the turn.

Itโ€™s not some tragic grandeur,
No noble, aching art
Just a quiet urge to prove myself
The fool I knew at start.
A self-aware confession dressed as poetry because sometimes wisdom doesnโ€™t save us from walking straight into the fire we already smelled.
8 years of therapy
therapist after therapist
nothing worked
I gained all the skills I needed
at psych wards
I never used the tools given
from the psych wards
but today is the day
therapy is not helpful
for me
but I will write my new beginnings
use the skills
do research
take my meds
and heal
I will do it by myself
because I have learned
that I am the only person
that I can rely on
if therapy helps for you, great! but it hasn't for me
Joss Lennox May 7
Upย ย ย ย ย ย  Downย ย  Upย ย ย ย  Downย ย 
andย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย and
My heart, it pounds, on the fast-paced merry-go-round.
Flashing moments
left whirling on the wind,
Timeless clockwork
filled with dizzying delight,
Stillness surrounds
these splendidly spinning
and thrilling seats,
An enchanting ride
where wild and whimsy,
meet cheerful release.
this poem, to me, is about finding the beauty, stillness, and reflection even in our own fast-paced lives.
My soul is digging its feet into the earth and fending off the shadows that surround.
My spirit is being tilled, unearthed, unwound.
The plow strikes my bones, and I am becoming something more than my eyes can visualize.
I am being planted, uprooted, and rising out of the ground with roots running through my veins, and my spirit cries out in faith because my soul is being strengthened through the pain.

-Rhia Clay
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