written
Comments
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            Originally posted by exhale
 Shhhhhhhhhh!
 Don´t touch her while she is still asleep,
 She is so peaceful, she hardly breathes!
 Let her meet with all her ghosts,
 It is only silence that all her fears exhausts.
 I wish I had the power and call for them all,
 To escort her with words and thoughts till dawn,
 I know, she loves each and every one so strong,
 Sometimes she would talk about them
 And HUSH! when notice she is not alone.
 It is a pity they don´t see her thoughts,
 They can´t relate with feelings which they cause;
 Her intentions noting but a harmless plea
 To walk behind them, find shelter in this perilous sea.
 If she would hear my onefold speech,
 She would not at all be pleased;
 I anticipate that very soon she will pull back
 In her excuse declare that it is only energy she lacks.
 She will remain a puzzling riddle
 To which solution even she herself might never know,
 Come on, it is time for us to go,
 This is her dream now and she wants to be alone.
 Shhhhhhhhhhh!
 *whispers* I really, really loved this one, exhale! Excellent! "Let her meet with all her ghosts" - !!! Magnificent!!!                        Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen0 "Let her meet with all her ghosts" - !!! Magnificent!!!                        Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen0
- 
            It is an amazing feeling when you know that you´re able to see
 the spark of light when all the curtains to the world have been
 closed long time ago. People walk in the complete darkness in
 their lives, ignoring even the tiniest sunrays that make their way
 through little holes in the curtains. And love… they forgot about it
 right after they´d started walking.
 How could they? Isn´t that the strongest impulse that made the
 greatest writers create the gentlest stories, the best poets
 compose the most beautiful poems, the most fearful warriors
 fight the longest battles? It can move planets with just a slight
 breath; it creates life and at the same time has the power to put
 it back to sleep; it heals wounds made in the past but if it feels
 like it, it can reopen them and make them grow even bigger.
 How could you not be afraid of this awe-inspiring influence that is
 the engine and the death penalty for mankind at the same time?
 So little respect we show for it, underestimating it´s impact on
 one´s mind. It is the universal melody for all the nations; despite
 different language, everybody can sing along.
 I was one of the luckiest that has been allowed to walk on love´s
 greatest paths and given a chance to get to know it better. My
 ghost is peaceful and I can write. Through this experience I´ve
 learnt to understand both sides: the good one and the best one.
 Unfortunately, my verse wasn´t strong enough to unwrap the
 iron cover to this magnificent and mysterious emotion for
 everybody out there; I´ve failed and I apologize.
 I have, therefore, decided to draw back from this forum and let
 the ´written´ thread go down. I might still take a peek into it
 from time to time to refill with inspiration and admire the art that
 CAN be created in this immaterial space.
 I also want to thank everybody for being a part of my poetry,
 supporting it with your thoughts and comments, and also
 influencing it with your critique: positive as well as negative.
 Love you all too much,
 Exhale 
 … this is even harder than I thought ...Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
 and in its contradiction of response,
 Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
 That might suggest true movement. If you sense
 a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
 Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
 The willows nod and rustle, and you will
 hear the rushing babble of the free
 gush of water, brimming, charged with light
 That is your reader's understanding heart.0
- 
            Originally posted by tremors
 She told me
 When he took her
 She tried to fly away
 Leave her body like he'd shown her
 Live another day
 Years later when we tried it
 She was lying by my side
 With his shadow hanging over
 Like some fucking suicide
 "Astral Projection" she said
 "It's easy when you know"
 But though I think I came close twice
 I never could let go
 I think I felt the anchor
 that was holding back my soul
 Once or twice I touched it
 But the rudder kept control
 She said she walked the astral planes
 I believed her and believe
 She did for eyes like hers
 Back then didn't know how to deceive
 Looking back we seem so young
 It makes me want to cry
 Two lost children
 Only one of whom
 Was forbidden to fly
 this is a freukin awesome poem.
 well done.......
 Forever and ever ....Pearl Jam
 .......0
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            I should´ve stayed at the back,
 Move nothing, just listen and follow the tracks,
 Compare words with words and let them be marked.
 Page after page just piles of her play-up,
 No end to this game,
 My advice - rub off that make up!!!
 Annoyed by the sounds of the two syllable name
 I better go back, no do doubt – he is sane.Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
 and in its contradiction of response,
 Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
 That might suggest true movement. If you sense
 a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
 Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
 The willows nod and rustle, and you will
 hear the rushing babble of the free
 gush of water, brimming, charged with light
 That is your reader's understanding heart.0
- 
            Good to see a GOOD thread getting bumped up the forum. 0 0
- 
            Originally posted by exhale
 I should´ve stayed at the back,
 Move nothing, just listen and follow the tracks,
 Compare words with words and let them be marked.
 Page after page just piles of her play-up,
 No end to this game,
 My advice - rub off that make up!!!
 Annoyed by the sounds of the two syllable name
 I better go back, no do doubt – he is sane.
 I love your exhalations! So nice to see you! So nice to see you! Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen0 Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen0
- 
            so good to be back
 good morning poets!Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
 and in its contradiction of response,
 Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
 That might suggest true movement. If you sense
 a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
 Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
 The willows nod and rustle, and you will
 hear the rushing babble of the free
 gush of water, brimming, charged with light
 That is your reader's understanding heart.0
- 
            Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen0
- 
            Fookin' hell. It's Petra. 0 0
- 
            exhale...
 i can so relate0
- 
            Hello my dear friends,
 A year goes by and one would expect to never see you again in this galaxy of words. And yet you kept on ornamenting this planet with your magnificent work. I missed so much .... and i missed YOU so much as well!
 Will you be able to invite me to come along a second time ?Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
 and in its contradiction of response,
 Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
 That might suggest true movement. If you sense
 a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
 Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
 The willows nod and rustle, and you will
 hear the rushing babble of the free
 gush of water, brimming, charged with light
 That is your reader's understanding heart.0
- 
            Puh! Youn were never uninvited, girl. Exhale some new life into this thread!!!!! Exhale some new life into this thread!!!!! Glad you're back! Glad you're back! Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen0 Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen0
- 
            My words most gracefully and easily should flow,
 My thoughts sing the sounds of morning tears,
 Follow sunrays throughout the day,
 And by nightfall, conclude this serenade of evening dew.
 I should live the consciousness of being this,
 Be proud of the composition of my name
 Because it is not plain and I shall not let it die in vain.
 Hard work, they say,
 It is, indeed,
 But this cannot oversound the fear
 When hearing, in the background, thoughts debate:
 She is a poet and that´s her fate.
 Am I blessed, or is this a curse?
 Whatever choice the gods will make,
 My heart the sea of words will wave,
 For I am a poet and that´s my fate.
 ...some things simply never change, no matter how long you wonder around looking for exits...Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
 and in its contradiction of response,
 Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
 That might suggest true movement. If you sense
 a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
 Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
 The willows nod and rustle, and you will
 hear the rushing babble of the free
 gush of water, brimming, charged with light
 That is your reader's understanding heart.0
- 
            -1-
 The circle of day.
 Dancing in the triangle
 And nothing to say.
 -2-
 Plain piece of paper.
 Playing with colours,
 None I could distinguish.
 -3-
 Drop after drop
 In the desert of thoughts.
 There´s too much to say.Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
 and in its contradiction of response,
 Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
 That might suggest true movement. If you sense
 a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
 Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
 The willows nod and rustle, and you will
 hear the rushing babble of the free
 gush of water, brimming, charged with light
 That is your reader's understanding heart.0
- 
            wonderful pieces
 I look forward to reading moreThe only thing I enjoy is having no feelings....being numb rocks!
 And I won't make the same mistakes
 (Because I know)
 Because I know how much time that wastes
 (And function)
 Function is the key0
- 
            It is useless expecting things to happen. You´re sitting on the thoughts you want to forget but you keep asking questions, completely irrelevant for this time of being. You are here and you can choose; choose to write your words or choose to read your words. One or the other, it will always bring you back to the same spot and you will have to start all over again. First write, then read…write, read….write, read….
 I cannot scream, and so I write. I regret spending lines on justifying a few words to make my mind less vulnerable. Meanwhile, I missed the butterflies resting on the blooms on my balcony. So many colours combined with the soft summer breeze which could´ve made my day worthwhile. Following the traces of too many others in the past, I spoiled a moment and I will never be able to bring it back. It´s like the first kiss… the absolute anticipation in the seconds, which seem like ages, before it happens. You cannot fight the contraction of the muscles in your stomach, it makes you feel unpleasant but still you couldn´t remember of a better feeling. It is the fear, the annoyance of a certain impulse that makes you almost sick, nevertheless, if given the opportunity, you´d want enjoy it´s continuity every single moment of your life.
 I write to make my life an everlasting first kiss…Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
 and in its contradiction of response,
 Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
 That might suggest true movement. If you sense
 a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
 Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
 The willows nod and rustle, and you will
 hear the rushing babble of the free
 gush of water, brimming, charged with light
 That is your reader's understanding heart.0
- 
            "I write to make my life an everlasting first kiss…"
 LOVE IT!!!!! That's just perfect and I hope that with each word you tingle with anticipation. That's just perfect and I hope that with each word you tingle with anticipation.
 *butterfly kisses* Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen0 Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen0
- 
            wow,
 I was reading through this.
 There is some rtruly remarkable stuff in here!The only thing I enjoy is having no feelings....being numb rocks!
 And I won't make the same mistakes
 (Because I know)
 Because I know how much time that wastes
 (And function)
 Function is the key0
- 
            There is.
 I met exhale. Lovely woman. Hope she's well.0
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