Old Knife

Confab With Me

When you betrayed the first time
you cut like a knife,
there was gore,
heartbreaks and emotional pour

This time when you denounced again,
I was aghast,
baffled and indifferent
but not saddened

For, now your knife is old,
it had lost the shine,
all the sharpness and the grind,
and I am sorry to say
your betrayal doesn’t hurt anymore

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

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The Letter

Midwest Fantasy Writes

Film Title: Becoming Jane

The letter

filled with words

too beautiful 

for most

to even imagine

love wrought

in every a, b, and c

connecting to the next

spaces filled

with emotion

pauses of her heart

needing to breathe

lines

one after another

soul searching

what does not seem real

yet feels intensely right

ink pouring passion

onto unfeeling blank pages

wishing them

penetrating a heart willing

hoping he absorbs

what is far beyond

mere words

*

©MidwestFantasy

March 2019

Ph-fanpop.com

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Daily Quote

Jo Hawk

-was-in-my-20s-when-i-started-writing-my-goals-down-assigning-each-a-date-that-i-would-achieve-them-by.-i-was-amazed-when-i-started-reaching-these-goals-by-the-date-i-had-listed-on-them.

I don’t recall my first attempt at written goals. I remember having detailed lists when I was in high school. The habit followed me to college. Over time, I refined the format and changed my process to better suit my needs. It has become part of my DNA. Like Howe, I notice when I write my goals and commit to completing them; they get finished. Magical, right? I prefer to think of it as a hyper-focus.

It may be a well-established habit, but it requires dedication. Today, I find myself behind on a deadline. The date has passed, and I cannot remove it from the list. I have good news. The task is more than half done and I have reached my anger point. Anger is a great motivator and I am more determined to finish. Knowing myself, I suspect a few late nights and a big push. I also…

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We, the broken

Megha's World

ryoji-iwata-669950-unsplash.jpg

Dreams crushed and pulverized to the core
I walk alone on this path
broken and sore;
this emptiness seeps
loneliness sits neatly in my pores
Silence screams the loudest
at its core;
a flag stripped of its mast
I’m trying to gather the pieces of me
splintered and stuck in
hundreds of soul
faces– known to me
faces I ignore;
I unpluck and unclutch parts of me
lodged in all the bleary hearts
I once loved
to whom I bared my soul;
We, the broken
like a lost piece of the puzzle
always searching
always alone.

–Megha Sood

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