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lorienfae · 4 minutes ago
Would there never have been a truer day
had there never been a tear shed?
Every sense that never had
a purpose, never could
breathe, or never say
never, or stay;
never or,
©️Anna S., 2021
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soulwrecked · 8 minutes ago
singing to an empty room,
an artist on a stage
bellowing my heart out
and inking every page,
writing all the words down,
wishing you could see
the pain that you have caused
feeds the artist inside me.
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rattailpanda · 8 minutes ago
How do you let yourself  be treated? by who? Perhaps by nobody  in particular... by the wind of chaos  which changes and destroys, impersonal.  By the distant safety of humble shelters.  And by the time you reach them, strangely, maybe you think that you shouldn’t have. And each  character in our story opens the door to new  varieties of mental illness. Some of them are hot  and some of them are foggy. Sweet and salty.  And who is all of this happening to anyway?  Who is the hero in our story? The self? Is there a self behind all this?  Maybe there are things that bring comfort to some and should not be mentioned to others. What is  at the bottom after asking the question ‘why?’  five times in a row? More than five? How...  how do you let yourself be treated? And how long  has that gone on for? And have you lost any teeth along the way? What variety of sweets or bitter treats am I sucking on as I approach  the distant walls of some pathetic,  appetizing place?  Is there any peace? 
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myeaglesongwrites · 9 minutes ago
Valantra’s song
Take these hands
That were made to work
Take these lips
That were made to sing
Take this mind
That was made to dream
Of a thousand dreams
Take this heart
That made to be free
Take all this darkness
Away from me
I have tread
For many a mile
Still I go far
I shall go
Not knowing where
I shall arrive
Or where my destination
Shall ever lead
But still I shall go
To find my life’s meaning
And I will be brave
I will be strong
Even if my heart breaks
Or my mind shall doubt
And my spirit be torn
I shall always go on
In this world
Among the bad and the best
Treading this path
From one day
Onto the next
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deepoceanedreamer · 16 minutes ago
Everytime I think of giving you a call
I already know how it will go
I’ll smile a lot, laugh more
Want to talk again
So we chat some more
Then I bring up something serious
And you start hitting ignore
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pvrethoughts · 19 minutes ago
If we were in love, I’d sing to you in grocery store isles and watch as your cheeks turned red from embarrassment and listen to your laugh that secretly tells me to keep going.
If we were in love, I’d watch all your favorite movies and listen to you talk about why you relate to that one scene in Good Will Hunting.
If we were in love, I’d be the one you can call when nothing seems to go right, and all you need is just a good cry.
If we were in love, I would be yours, and you would be mine.
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deepoceanedreamer · 20 minutes ago
Do you consider yourself my friend?
Or am I just that girl you used to like?
I don’t hear from you anymore
Your explanation is that you’ve been busy
I don’t know what you’re thinking
But I bet it’s not about me
It’s kind of sad we can’t stay in touch
But perhaps you’re scared
Your feelings for me will amount to too much
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langleyfairchild · 22 minutes ago
Tiny Fingers
Oh wait, I think I see Your tiny fingers waving goodbye Tiny train without a track Tiny minds that never had enough
Sucking on my mind Killing all the dreams
I wanna stay close like close friends All the tiny cameras flash when we on the phone What have I done sucking cock What have I done sucking cock
So this is where you are After sucking on its thumb And then crying came in I saw the face of evil
What have I done sucking cock What have I done sucking cock
I wanna stay close like close friends All the tiny cameras flash when we on the phone What have I done sucking cock What have I done sucking cock
Such a tiny girl still she can fell She can pick up anything, no, not even bed
I wanna stay close like close friends All the tiny cameras flash when we on the phone What have I done sucking cock What have I done sucking cock
- Langley Fairchild
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deepoceanedreamer · 24 minutes ago
You commented on a video today
It made me smile
You’re the only one I’ve ever liked that I’m just okay with not talking to you
Ok on second thought maybe I don’t like you after all if that’s the way I feel...
Anyways, we used to talk for hours until I tried to make you face your feelings head on
You got scared, shied away , shortened our texts causing me to stray
But none the less, I will always wish you the best, even if it’s clear
You don’t know what you want
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pasionesydeseos · 26 minutes ago
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Que importa la edad si la pasión se lleva por dentro, más los años vividos nos dan esa experiencia exquisita que solo tenemos y ellos nos da, los deseos y la lujuria se llevan adentro y corren por las venas hasta arder con esa persona que sepa encerdernos.
La edad es solo un número porque llevamos las ansías en la mirada y la escencia en el alma,apasionamos de la manera que sea porque una mujer madura es segura de sí misma y sabe ocupar su lugar, no necesitamos desnudez porque hacemos el amor habiendo encendido el alma.
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tc-angel · 29 minutes ago
whenever im alone with you, you make me feel at home.
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hobbit-ishexploits · 31 minutes ago
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Small signs of spring show,
the lilting lyrics of life
why we will press on.
April 3rd, 2021
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hobbit-ishexploits · 32 minutes ago
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joy is held. moments
act as the small containers,
but, sometimes, so large.
April 2nd, 2021
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hobbit-ishexploits · 33 minutes ago
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the weight of the shoe
falls on my shoulders tonight
crushing me now: crunch.
April 1st, 2021
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theotherpages · 34 minutes ago
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National Poetry Month Number 20 - Nora Marks Dauenhauer - Amelia’s First Ski Run
You can listen to the podcast version of today’s article on Spotify, ITunes, Anchor, Breaker, or Google Podcasts. Click Here to access links. ( Look for the podcast titled National Poetry Month at the Other Pages.
Welcome to National Poetry Month at The Other Pages. My name is Steve Spanoudis and I curate the series each year, with help and contributions from Bob Blair, Kashiana Singh, and (Nelson) Howard Miller. I’m coming to you from Coral Springs, Florida, on the eastern edge of the Everglades.
Occasional poetry consists mainly of poems written to remember or commemorate special events. Battles, coronations, state funerals, the dedication of a building. But poets write many occasional poems at a more personal level - on the birth of a child, for example. I always thought one of the masters of simple, domestic occasional pieces of light verse was Christopher Morley. There is a large collection of his works at
Today’s poem, however, is very specific. The viewpoint, I think, is a grandmother, relishing the amazing skills of her granddaughter. You might simply consider it a descriptive poem, but from the Grandmother’s viewpoint, as the title words suggest, it was a memorable occasion.
That title is Amelia’s First Ski Run, and yes we’re out of season, but the sense of pride, the use of sounds, and the elegant simplicity of the short poem caught my eye and ear.
First the poet: Nora Marks Dauenhauer (1927-2017) grew up as a member of the Tlinget tribe in Alaska. Her father was a fisherman, and the family lived in seasonal camps, and sometimes aboard a fishing boat. Imagine how much change she saw in those ninety years. She earned a degree in Anthropology, and became a poet, author, and scholar of her native Tlinget language. She went on to become the Alaska State Writer Laureate.
By the way, current U.S. Poet Laureate Joy Harjo is also a Nora Dauenhauer fan. You can listen to her reading How to Make Good Baked Salmon from the River on YouTube ( If you listen, besides Harjo’s joy at reading the description, what comes across is Dauenhauer’s own joy in remembering traditional ways and relishing traditional foods, and her honest acknowledgement that, inevitably, living in a city apartment may require a few compromises on traditional recipes and cooking techniques.
But for today, I chose a shorter poem, one that gets across that first idea, that joy and pride, without compromise. Dauenhauer was born near Juneau, and the poem’s heading indicates it was written at Eaglecrest, a nearby public ski run. Sourdough is one of the highest runs on the mountain.
She starts out:
Amelia, space-age girl
at top of Sourdough
makes her run with Eagle Grandpa Dick,
Raven girl, balancing on space,
gliding on air
in Tlingit colors:
And later:
Once in a while
I could even see space
between her legs and skis.
You can hear the pride in that voice - pride in her granddaughter - this is, after all, only her first downhill run - and pride in her native heritage. She’s bird-like: raven hair / gliding on air. Colors are a big part of that tribal expression, and the fact that, even though she’s a “space-age girl,” she’s tied to nature:
black pants, turquoise jacket,
yellow shoulder patches,
black hair like feathers
clinging to her head,
face the color of red cedar.
Once again, the feathers give the impression she’s flying, birdlike, wearing the black, yellow, and turquoise Tlinget colors. She use the words swishing and shooshing at the end of the poem, onomatopoeic words as she imagines what the far-away sounds must be, as Amelia and her grandfather disappear from sight around the mountain.
The full text is online at the Poetry Foundation, ( along with additional biographical notes.
Once again this is Steve Spanoudis for
Thank you for Listening. If you’re enjoying these commentaries, and the poem selections, please share them - either the text versions or the podcasts - on social media.
You can find more at, or at The Other Pages on Facebook or Tumblr.
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dogboy4yup · 35 minutes ago
reminder not to vent in my asks/submissions/messages it makes me very uncomfortable and I will delete and block if i don't know you :)
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iimmortalists · 38 minutes ago
hey britney!! we havent talked but i love ur blog its so nice to look at the colors go rlly well together :D and ur icon makes me smile i just think its neat! (i always think its a cow lmao i have bad eyes 😔) also i just saw the poem u posted it was rlly good !
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nanidsvv · 39 minutes ago
Si tan solo sintieras los abrazos que a diario te mando,
Entenderías que te sigo amando
Que no es lo mismo cuando no estás a mi lado
Porque mi mundo se va haciendo pedazos
Y mi corazón grita a todas horas: “te extraño”.
Sin tan solo ...
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