The Creators

I Write Her

i’m a breeder
bred from a breeder
who was bred from a breeder
who was also bred from a breeder
going all the way back to the first breeder

it is by chance that one egg
meets one sperm, occasionally two
a double fertilization
so interesting and rare
one percent of human conceptions

even with constant, intentional sex
conception chances are twenty percent
life is not only random, it’s not likely
the creators are lucky
the offspring even luckier if they are wanted

but this is life
a coming together of the fornicating
and the married of our species
this chance to breathe in a world not of our making
but one to maybe we’ll do better things than just breed

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I have No Words – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


Photo: no-words/

"Racism is all over the world but justice is nowhere."  Areena Nadeem

I Have No Words

Decades of days have passed
whose shadows have lenghtened
like a pall on a coffin
in a dimly lit chapel
awaiting a prayer of light
to reveal the edifice collapsed,
the facade of politeness exposed
in every corner of a smug world,
where power is bound in abstraction,
whose currency is hatred,
whose anthems divide,
whose flags are merely shrouds
of deadly propaganda
laying waste to minds,
what has happened to humanity?
It is impossible to speak of it,
I have no words.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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The waves of our destiny

Beans, Pen & Nirja

Once again, I dream in vain
just longing for you
you and I meet by chance
couldn’t you be my side even if it’s just for once
a wish of a hopeless heart
can’t you reach out your hands to embrace me
can you hold me like before and wipe my tears

I can’t send you away, there’s a hurting smile
my heart aches
will you ever know, deep down I can’t even breath

I lay wide awake, not a single sign of sleep
here’s this midnight whispering me
our fate that awaits our departure

My wandered heart would calm down
if only I could see you again

Image Courtesy: Google

Copyright © 2017 – 2020 Beans, Pen & Nirja – All Rights Reserved

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the map of kings ~


another time

what of days
my soul was dealt –
and sacrificed to wonder
the sparkle of each star
the river’s will
just how
the mountains shiver
beneath a blanket –
deep and cold
the way the ocean rises
another moon to know
I’ve learned the song
of nightingales
the cry of turtle doves
stood beneath
an ancient elm
counting rings
the map of kings –
making my way
to love

what of days
my soul was dealt

. . .

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Sarah Doughty

“Though I am hurt, I can survive this.
I know I can.”

I’m hurt, darling. And I think what hurts the most is that, at some point, you stopped caring about me. Maybe it was distance. Maybe it was the time. Maybe it was me that finally pushed you away. And you let me. Though I am hurt, I can survive this. I know I can. It’s just going to take me a little time to figure out how.

© Sarah Doughty

I will survive this, too.

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