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The RagMag Poetry Archive - A Collection of Poems Featured by RagMag.org in Past Issues. Poets Have Been Listed in Alphabetical Order.
Many of These Poets Can be Found In The Lonely Road Poet...An Anthology of Poems Published by RagMag there’s too many
things going on there’s too much
around me there’s too many
distractions there’s too much
surrounding me you can’t win
fighting against your probems it’s like battling
with liquid swords you can’t be hurt
or defeat it’s a petty
argument with mere words. Don’t let your
fears prevent you from experience and don’t let them
get the best of you express yourself
and your feelings but don’t let them
be the death of you no excitement, no
drama just regular
life no tears of joy or
pain nothing is wrong or
right our destiny with
love, is not judged the truth of our
lives, is not doubted the beauty of our
souls shine through us our freedom is our one way ticket out.
Decrowning of
Love by Trent
Alic like the tea
cup that fell from your
hands when I told you of
the barrier in what you
thought’d end up fair I’ve laid on the
floor a mess of times in
strain and shards of my
strength under tables and
chairs in a much
later-heard silence a calm de-crowning
of love went by me and
away closer to a flight
of of pleasure but there will be
none as it flutters past
the filter dusty and
thick stuck between “how?” and never.
Watching
you as your spirit yearns for flight into
every source, everywhere back to
a life once known long
forgotten, cept for a fleeting glimpse. As I
walk through your eyes, a wispering
image beckons; smiling in
the words..."its alright..." Looks
like an Angel appearing
in once empty space; you
linger half-way
between here and there. Watching
you.... brings
me into the light of yesterday we were
young...new far from
sight of these worn out days of ours; smooth
little bodies splashed
in a bath of bubbles and fun so
young; the
tears we shared through years feeling
one anothers dream go broken. Little
now...is spoken, as I
watch you and love you as your eyes…love me.
*Dedicated to My Sister
Lizbeth Night Tricks by Bill Crimi I must have watched her too long she’s burned into me like a ghost Blink…blink she’s still there, remaining in mock. The
night plays such tricks on fools like me half
blinded by tears a dim
light chosen. My
window has her in the garden flowing soft in a yellow chiffon curly
locks, sway in a gentle breeze golden honey brown. The
moon turns
to choking dust. I
must have… must
have watched her too long she’s
burned into me. Beautiful Soul by
Dawn Kontomichalas Even as a small
child I have been in awe of her graceful
beauty; a ballerina
dancing her way through life. An artist of
life, she saw beauty in everything. She embraced
life...all of it...the good and the
bad. Often
misunderstood by others but, those who really
knew her cherished her
uniqueness. She was
one of a kind...strong, spirited...unbreakable yet, elegant and
full of love...with a heart of gold. She gave
everything and asked nothing in return. She had an
acceptance of people for who they were. An acceptance of
life for what it was. A true beauty
inside and out; stunning beauty. An Angel that God
allowed us to have for a short time to teach and show
us proof of his existance. For who else
could have created such a beautiful creature? Anyone who had
the chance to have her in their life was truly
blessed. I can only hope
that in my life, I can be half the
woman she was. I lost not only
an aunt but, a mother and a soul mate, because she was
all these things to me throughout my life. She was the most
beautiful soul. "WHO KNEW?"...I Knew... Forgiveness by
Leonora Lambert Changin’ And…makin’
up came Close to
sin… Now, that we’re
apart We’re next to
kin Merciful and
kind Why did you ever
cross that line? Dreamin’ drifters
know “Any healin’
heart Takes
time…” The Mortal Box by Catherine Molnar (age 15) we all own a mortal box yet, I cannot open yours what are you hiding, kid behind the thick closed door? if I were to swing it open what would I find? a caterpillar scarf that is hiding in your eyes a scarf as red as the blood that ran round and round my finger? remember when I touched your cheek and left behind a mark and you wiped it off as if it were a bug? would I find a mark there in your mortal box and would it resemble my finger tip? the one I pressed like a flower. would I find my carving stones I left you when I died are they in there still?
She dances in the
dream Like a ballerina
with no name She glides across
the room with ease As lightly as a
leaf that falls from a tree. Like a bird who
takes flight Her message comes
across clear Through her dance,
watch close you’ll hear, Her words of
wisdom, her words of might, live your
life. *Dedicated to Liz…you have been more to me than words could ever show.
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