The tragedy​ of Being Human

Confab With Me

Responding to the prompt, The Tragedy of Being Human, given by Manic Sylph Mona. Mona is an amazing poet. If you haven’t visited her blog, please do so you won’t regret

The tragedy of being human
are we are often drenched
in the sea of emotions,
chasing shadows,
embracing deceit
and still, carry the charm
to shed a tear
blaming it on this thing called life

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

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Recovering My Mind: Poetry and Rock Music

Someone, somewhere, loves you. Mountains obscure failing eyes. Seas in deadly tempests render screams meaningless. Vultures seek to pounce on our tired, aching bodies. Deserts strand us, and dust storms leave us lost in a swirling graveyard. Yet amidst the demonic slaughter, I can hear your heartbeat. Troubled thoughts and trembling eyes cannot shut me out from you, and I can find you. I will find you.

I love you. We don’t understand each other all the time. Maybe we’re not supposed to. Maybe these rough patches are a reminder that, surprise, we’re both human. But, even in the chaos. The murder. The mysteries. The pain. The broken hearts. We can still rustle up next to each other and listen. Listen to our souls. And be reminded that the sun will come out tomorrow.

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Book of Me

Please come and enjoy – Book Me

Midwest Fantasy Writes


You read between my curves

along lines soft and feminine

turn pages of me over and over

as if you’ll see something new

      you missed before

you find deep meaning

      under the surface of my skin

delve into chapters

       I have shown no one

Book of Me

      open and ready for you



May 2019


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All or nothing

Shari Blaukopf's Sketchbook

For the past few weeks I have been looking for outdoor subjects to paint, but it’s been a bit of a wasteland of grey days, bare trees and yellowed grass.

And then all of a sudden, there’s too much choice. Tiny buds are opening on trees, the grass is green, and today I drove by the market and was thrilled to see all the hanging plants on display. It made me realize how starved for colour I am. The red and yellows on my palette are getting some attention again, and before you know it the boats will be in the water too. Seems like the start of summer sketching is finally here.

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Brave & Reckless

A response poem to Davy D’s question What Is Poetry? on the Go Dog Go Cafe

it is a stir
an ache
rising from my core
growing in urgency
pushing to my surface
gasping hungrily for air
sitting impatiently on my tongue
black pearl
tear-shaped diamond
for hand to grasp pen
fingers to touch keys
truth to be unleashed
an explosion of my soul
made visible
in black ink

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

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