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Poems On / About LOST  2/6/2016 2:29:35 PM
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-no Fast Friend

I lose ones who I frequent.
I lose ones when out of touch.
I lose ones who grow higher.
I lose ones when I grow higher.
I lose ones when they or I move out.
No one is close to me for ever.
Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.

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Lost Love

Lost love is a sad tale
Every soul must find a vale
Even lost can not be lost
For it will still hold a lasting cost
I am lost and finding soon
That I might be a hidden lagoon
But when I am found by my true love
No more shall I be the long lost glove
Isaiah Thompson

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Grace Among The Pigeons

there are people who claim to know which way is north, south, all that. somewhat relevant if you need that kind of know. everything is, if you need it. for food maybe or to find a lost lover. or perhaps you're the one lost in this story you're forming in your head. why would anybody need to find a lost lover? where are they lost? maybe they have found a new game to play with a new team-mate. or an adversary. are lovers mates or foes? its all lost in the shackles of abstraction, this love business. but still, to find and to make tracks. go in a direction, one taught by the pull of the stars, the drag of the moon, the senses taut to breaking point, like sex between foes. she knew none of this, all the petty concerns with direction, cardinal points and blah. hers, a life maybe, but to wherever she ended up, nowhere in particular, until that point was reached, soon forgotten, an accretion of past, not future, but all the same. sediment: this is a lovely word; everything layered and staying in place, firm but shifting and nervous from the shudder of life above. the pigeons garnoogled around her feet like shamans proclaiming homage to concrete. obeisance to her grace was a thought she had, but it didn't enter that part of her mind where she would have actually thought it, as in knowing the thought. she felt it. in the dizzy shimmy of the wind, all blow and come back, river weeps pharaoh but receives no munch, fighter with jet of water ooze and ooze, strung by the tentacles of a shadow. there was blonde for hair, blue for eyes, tears for an answer, the smooth bend of the road we wish we could travel on but a hip sensuous to explosion, just about. do hips crash or ascend to the heavens ever soaring like the spirit of a falcon? i have never seen a falcon. is it the same but different in thought to a pigeon as the dove is the same but different in flutter to the flag? what is grace? it is the ability to hold a fart in a cave too small, resisting expulsion into the bigger hole that is everything. you think to yourself, if there is paris, and there is a girl, and she is everything that paris remembers from truffaut or godard, all shimmering in black and white, if paris is this and the girl is that, images and all, moving in one way or the other, then there are pigeons, juxtaposed for some symbol known previous, then maybe as writer, troubadour sunken in ink milk, i shall feed (then) , quench the hunger dead, and write a story about it all. but instead the words are a mangle, a body in vulture track past, behind, the sun threatening to burst in the hung heavy distance, thinking then if that is where it is setting then we are heading east. she knows none of this. she is grace.
manu emmanuel

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Family Life And Love Life.

When my aunt died 3 years ago.It was like I was in woods and couldn't find my way out of woods.But it wasn't like
I was lost in woods and couldn't find my way out.It was real lost when my aunt died with cancer.When my great grand
maw died.It was like I drunk something that made me sick to my stomach.But it wasn't like I that I drunk something that
was bad for me and made me sick to my stomach.It was real lost when she died of old age.When my great grand paw died over Thanksgiving month.It was like lost baby fox that got lost from it family.But it wasn't like a baby fox lost it family.It is real thing when you loose a love one.When I first meet Nathan and we started dating.It was like was cup that you was sweet to drink out of.But it wasn't like a cup that is sweet to drink out of.It is real nice thing when me and Nathan meet and I wish it was like was when we first got together.When Nathan change after my grand paw died and he act like something change him.It was like I was racing horse to get back to something I was missing.But it wasn't like I was racing a horse to get back to my life that I once had.When I found Mason on myspace and we started talking again.It was like shooting star when back and got us together.But it wasn't like they was shooting star that went by that got us together.It was just some bad luck on getting together with Mason.When I thought he love me and wanted to be with me.It was like two love birds that are kissing in the trees.But it wasn't like two loves birds are kissing in the trees.It was real dump thing when you think someone wants to be with you and they do not want to be.

Writer is Kristina Riggs
date it ends was March 27
2008 and time it end 1: 30am.
Kristina Riggs

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Poems On / About LOST