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IamI's NaPo



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42 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 169
Reviews: 42
Thu Apr 02, 2020 1:26 pm
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IamI says...



See attachment.
Attachments
Screen Shot 2020-04-02 at 9.13.03 AM.png
boing.
  





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42 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 169
Reviews: 42
Fri Apr 03, 2020 3:47 pm
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IamI says...



If I could ask the future a question
I would ask if I had loved
Other question would spring to mind,
Less selfish ones certainly
Do we learn our place in this universe?
Is the world for once less hateful?
Has the truth been resurrected?
But all these will come in time.
And for these I can wait,
But I would sleep soundly every night of my life
If I could know that I have loved.
=
Was it fierce?
Was it tender?
Was it true?
The last is the most agonizing.
Oh how hard it is to know if I have lived!
Love and life are two clasping hands
And to know one would be to have a verdict to both.
=
But the future is not my oracle.
To ask impetuous questions of at my leisure
And I am looking for one answer.
And in my lusty chasing after fairytales
I forget the sadness of fate.
boing.
  





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42 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 169
Reviews: 42
Sat Apr 04, 2020 7:32 pm
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IamI says...



Another day:

Another day gone
And what to show for it?
Nothing but the same bleary eyes
in the same scratched mirror
Hung on the same gray wall
More of the same morning rush and evening sputter
The same midnight longing
=
A comfort that
I don’t quite know why
Perhaps because love just works like that
A soothing silent lullaby
Calling me to sleep
Or at least to close my eyes and hope
Hope for a change tomorrow,
or simply something worth waking to.
Perhaps another day.
boing.
  





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42 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 169
Reviews: 42
Sun Apr 05, 2020 4:19 pm
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IamI says...



Sleep:

“Let me sleep.”
I call to my mind,
My echoing mind
That rebounds the shades of thoughts and words
Calling me with luring cacophonies
To nightmarish phantasms.

“Let me sleep.”
I call to my sheets,
Trapping me in warm,
unrelenting arms,
Made humid by my sweat.

“Let me sleep.”
I call to my clock
That smugly ticks my failures In crimson numbers,
Unrelenting and unforgiving,
Screaming to me the passing hours.

“Let me sleep.”
I whisper near tears
As I close my unwilling eyes.
boing.
  





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42 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 169
Reviews: 42
Mon Apr 06, 2020 6:50 pm
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IamI says...



A world of glass

I look upon this world,
Like colored glass:
With Sapphire panes of ocean
Azure ribbons of river,
Emerald squares of forest
And verdant bolts of valley.

I look upon this world of glass
And see panes stained red,
with the lives of men
And red with the fires they have started
And left to burn.

I look upon this world of glass
I weep, for I know the minds of men
And what comes of their schemes
With this world in their hands,
I can only dread the passing years.
boing.
  





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42 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 169
Reviews: 42
Tue Apr 07, 2020 12:41 pm
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IamI says...



To god:

God,
Thy father in heaven,
Step not again upon this earth
Which you forsook
Like a child left to the ripping dogs.

Step not again upon the sands
And the stones
You let be stained by blood,
Not again, may you step
Upon our lands.

Our lands:
The sacred land of man,
Left to us to steward over;
We are now the kings of earth,
With none to cut our conquests.

You have left us,
Casting upon us your illusioned servants
Who seek to rechain us to your will

What is your will?
To have us die?
Perhaps your will is void,
As the space between stars is void:
Meaningless and empty.

Your will is not empty,
For that perhaps your owed a thanks.
For in your will, you grant us the greatest mercy:
The right to die and leave our guilt,
our mistakes,
and our rivers of blood
To others.
boing.
  





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42 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 169
Reviews: 42
Wed Apr 08, 2020 12:08 pm
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IamI says...



Sixty second pass,
Then pass again.
Again,
Again,
Again.

Sixtyfold, the minutes pass.
Again,
Again,
Again.

Then, in twenty-fours
The hours pass:
Again,
Again,
Again.
boing.
  





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42 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 169
Reviews: 42
Thu Apr 09, 2020 10:17 pm
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IamI says...



The message in the bottle is stop.

Come upon an ocean bank
And find upon the trash strewn sand a bottle
This is not the one you seek,
With a message inside
Neatly wrapped
With a little scarlet string and sealed crimson wax
This is not the bottle you want
With a cork you would pop off to read some fanciful words
Or a map, you always wished for a map;
But this one is empty, save for some sand and some water
And it is amber colored,
The one of which you dreamed was pale lilly green.

You set down to its resting place
Where it rests until the seas will lead it back,
The sea does not need the bottle, but you have less need
So is your thought as you toss it back.
You walk across the raped sands,
Ravaged by trash,
In search of another bottle.

As you stumbled down a dune you see one,
More hopefully tinted emerald.
As you near it you dodge splinters of jagged glass,
Thoughtless of their origin.
You stop and pick up the bottle,
There is a note,
You pick it out and read the word:
‘STOP.’
boing.
  





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42 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 169
Reviews: 42
Fri Apr 10, 2020 1:17 pm
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IamI says...



Lust:

My heart burns, my blood boils
To see you in your skin,
Just your skin;
With your hair across your chest,
Across your back, across your shoulders.
All of your hair.

I burn to see every inch uncovered
For me to see, to touch, to watch
Your chest rise and fall.
All of your chest.

I yearn to run my hand down your back;
To trail down the valley of your spine,
From the cold skin of your shoulder blades down.
All the way down.

I ache to see you eyes,
Half lidded, veiled by you hair,
Shining in the dark,
Letting mine trail down,
Down,
Down.
boing.
  





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517 Reviews

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Gender: Female
Points: 18311
Reviews: 517
Fri Apr 10, 2020 7:17 pm
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Lavvie says...



Hi IamI!

I feel a great sense of confidence in the voice of your poems - it has a strong presence. You're also definitely not one to shy away from engaging with different forms of punctuation and I think your use of the question mark is pretty effective in engaging your audience. My favourite poem so far is "A world of glass" - it definitely speaks to the fragility of human civilization. Keep writing!!


What is to give light must endure burning. – Viktor Frankl
  





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42 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 169
Reviews: 42
Fri Apr 10, 2020 10:00 pm
IamI says...



Thanks!

If you like my work I’ve got several other works published on this site

Is this a shameless plug? Yes. Do I feel bad? Ehhhhh...
boing.
  





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42 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 169
Reviews: 42
Sun Apr 12, 2020 12:25 am
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IamI says...



Words:

How does a writer begin?
What are his rites,
Through which he gains the right
To write.

The simple answer is a pen to paper
And a pen of characters.
From that there are countless stories,
Enough for a library stacked stories high.

High enough to crane your neck up and see birds soar around it,
And sore your neck
from staring up,
And to tire you with the thoughts of stairs.
boing.
  





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1011 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 120715
Reviews: 1011
Sun Apr 12, 2020 3:26 am
alliyah says...



Loved the playful word-play in this last poem. Especially the first stanza - what a fun piece! :) Also enjoying some of the experimentation with formatting and structure that you're using. Nice work so far!
maybe i make up colors for poetic cadence, but i don't think i can ever love someone who doesn't understand that teal is a different color than dark cyan
  





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42 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 169
Reviews: 42
Sun Apr 12, 2020 2:11 pm
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IamI says...



Thanks!
boing.
  





User avatar
42 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 169
Reviews: 42
Sun Apr 12, 2020 4:46 pm
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IamI says...



O Alexandria:

O Alexandria, Upon the distant sands;
I come to you and cup the hallowed ash
Of your greatest repository.

I would drown the world in blood,
To see those flames reversed,
So the shadow in the night cast only by the moon.

I would kill a thousand men a thousand times,
To see those pillars rise from the sands
Of time and rock.

I would sacrifice everything and still more,
To tread the floors of those venerable halls,
To touch even one of the forever lost scrolls
And glean from them lost ancient wisdoms.

But as it is:
All past;
I stand with the ash in my hands
And weep for the stupidity of man.
boing.
  








Some call me a legacy, others call me a hero. But I assure you, dear admirers, I am only human.
— Persistence