June 23, 2022
by thereluctantpoet
By Charles Robert Lindholm
Poetry =
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Posted in chuck, Poetry |
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April 28, 2022
by thereluctantpoet
By Charles Robert Lindholm
Poetry =
The truth
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Posted in chuck, Poetry |
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January 12, 2022
by thereluctantpoet
By Charles Robert Lindholm
Must we live with hate
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Posted in chuck, Poetry |
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October 28, 2017
by thereluctantpoet
HAIKU: MY MIRROR
By Charles Robert Lindholm
The mirror shows me
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Posted in chuck, Poetry |
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October 5, 2017
by thereluctantpoet
By Charles Robert Lindholm
Poetry =
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Posted in chuck, Poetry |
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August 16, 2017
by thereluctantpoet
By Charles Robert Lindholm
Must we live with hate
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Posted in chuck, Poetry |
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August 16, 2017
by thereluctantpoet
By Charles Robert Lindholm
Poetry =
The truth
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Posted in chuck, Poetry |
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August 5, 2017
by thereluctantpoet
By Charles Robert Lindholm
Jungle drums beating
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Posted in chuck, Poetry |
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March 25, 2017
by Colly

If love is a chasm I would be an ism.
But love is a voice a word of the heart.
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Posted in Colleen K, Photos, Poetry |
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June 16, 2016
by Morgan

.
Wherever Love Goes
It Urges Mercy and Justice.
Whenever Love Speaks
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Posted in Morgan, Poetry |
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January 29, 2016
by Morgan

.
What Lies Unseen
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Posted in Morgan, Photos, Poetry |
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March 19, 2014
by Rana
They say it’s wise
to pick your battles,
to avoid the conflict
and preserve the peace.
But what of honesty, what of pride
can be preserved in the face of opposition?
There is something to be said in pride –
there is a pride in being honest with the world,
with one’s self.
One cannot sleep in a bed with
dishonesty between the sheets.
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Posted in Poetry, Rana |
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January 1, 2013
by willowdot21
deviantart.com
Life is like a merry go round you swirl right up then you plummet back down. The minutes tick tock and the horses prance and life goes on like a magic dance. Time is a devil time is a thief it creeps up behind you, BOO! then speeds off away as you try to turn over a new leaf.
Look at the puppet who is she, is she the doll or is the doll me? Or am I the puppet master I do not know which is which as I spin and dance faster and fall into a ditch..
The minutes disappear as the hours fly by, days turn to weeks then months as the year flies. Suddenly we find ourselves at the very last tick, time has run out and the candle is at the end of it’s wick. Time is a devil time is a thief it creeps up behind you, BOO! then speeds off away as you try to turn over a new leaf.
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Posted in Poetry, Willow |
5 Comments »