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The Poetry Bar

Ripples

I trap the sun in a thousand dots under my skin,
crafting them into maps wrapped around tired shoulders,
so I can guide myself by the braille of my body
when darkness shivers over me and night grows colder.

The wind swift scatters the seeds of my dandelion dreams,
casting my traces across oceans and continents.
My second hand shoes plod through places I will never see,
leaving footprints to sprout second hand monuments.
My roots grow like thick, tangled vines through all my places,
re-drawing my map with a thousand small traces.

The night sky I thought to be un-navigable
is washed bright with the light of innumerable stars
which cast sharp reliefs against my uncertain shadow
and write me into small footnotes in the sky’s memoirs.

I find nourishment in dark streams whose waters have
washed the tarnished faces of kings and tyrants clean,
cleared sacred altars of unholy sacrifices
and witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations.
The water flows its history through my tired veins,
and when the water is gone from me, pieces remain.

I am older than history, younger than time,
formed full from the beginning of the universe
and doomed to remain thus until my final days.
When I drink from the river, will you question my ways?

Lil tidbit about me: My name is Evan Schleicher. I am a researcher by necessity and a poet by choice. I have always had a passion for writing but, over the past few years, life has intervened and I have not written as much as I would like. Getting back into writing has been very easy on this platform, as there are so many interesting and supportive people in this community. Thank you, everyone! If you would like to read more of my poetry, feel free to check out my website at evanschleicher.com and leave a comment or send me a message!

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

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The Poetry Bar

Bermuda Triangle

Be a light bringer, let it freeze or like breeze through your finger let it slip, sleep not on it nor let it slip a knot on you, ‘cause its a hole deep and steep and you might slip, like a bird on a tree ready to fly away, be joyful like friday.

Like a serpent be wise, make your own paradise, though price high and wages won’t rise, conflict reprise is not the option nor a skin lotion, or love potion, making it your portion is a mental concoction and a frequency distortion

Hold yourself dear, not a deer to a hunter’s light peer, avoidable pain bear, causes wear and tear, be strong, eschew fear, clear off in your highest gear, don’t stay, nor make it a life’s way, a tree in stormy weather sway, away you fly off from a hostile bay

To journey alone you don’t need a loan nor mortgage that makes you age, caged bird’s loss of freedom perpetually in rage, enrage would get you derange, hurry, do not tarry being happy is your right, flight from misery let it be his story not your history

Being in my World is actually like being on a voyage with a Small boat. Small enough to navigate most difficult strait, large enough to survive a tempest. My leaning is toward extraction of knowledge from within myself and encouraging others to do the same. For this reason i describe myself as an Educator. Educator in the old fashion usage of the word in the sense of bringing forth knowledge from within by the recognition that every sentient being is a repository on primal knowledge of Self, Nature, Time, and the primeval Source of manifestations.

Check my blog at https://theoratorio.wordpress.com/

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

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Poems

Poem #358

Sometimes you want it to be what it was in the beginning.
You want to hear “I miss you” and you want the gestures
and you want for someone to go the extra mile for you.

You want a love that’s a bit childlish and very spontaneous
You want to discover new things instead of reliving the old.
You want someone to treat you like you are above all.

And maybe you want it because you cannot treat yourself in that way.

Latest Poem: Poem #357
Youtube videos: Luna’s channel
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Poems

Poem #357

Scene 1:
Everyone was walking on the ground,
she was walking on clouds.
Her life was a dream as she played the role
of the girl in-love.
From dresses to the lingerie they hid,
From breakfast in bed served wearing his shirt to
putting a drop of perfume on her thighs and neck
hoping he will memorize her scent.

Scene 2:
If the skies are crying, it’s not a sad day.
It was time to cuddle up under the blanket.
If he would lose himself along the way,
she was running to rescue him.
His burden was hers as well,
she found forgiveness for all mistakes.
Never once a flaw, bad hair days or unshaved legs
on the body she so willingly gave to him.

Scene 3:
It was all in vain, the fairytale land had one mistake.
It was tailored from movies and scenes,
written like a paragraph from a love story
but none of it was real.
Real feelings were put aside so she could play a role.
She imitated everything she saw love was as a little kid
just because she wanted to be picked.
She wanted for somebody to claim her, cross an ocean to find her,
do everything to sweep her off her feet.

Scene 4:
It was an award-worthy performance but it was nothing more.
An act, a lie, a desperate attempt to become loved.
The curtains are about to close and she can’t even cry.
The crowd is leaving but she cannot seem to find the strength
to leave the stage. So much of her was poured into this play.
Maybe when another one comes to the stage, he will appreciate
the performance and stay.

Latest Poem: Poem #356
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Life updates: I made stew!

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Poems

Poem #356

Being strong is a blessing only while
others think you are weak.

Being strong is not a get out of jail free card
when it comes to pain.
Being strong doesn’t mean our skin can’t bruise
or that the scars aren’t deep enough to bleed a river.
Being strong doesn’t always keep us on our feet,
when we fall, the blow breaks our knees.

It is not an invitation for you to push the limits.
It is not a challenge for you to see how much we can take.
It’s not a justification for the world when it hits us harder.
It does not mean we need to go through more pain than the rest.

Latest Poem: Poem #355
Youtube videos: Luna’s channel
Latest Coffee Date: Is it all over in your twenties?
Latest #savingme: Give Women Their Rage Back
Life updates: I made stew!

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Poems

Poem #355

I want to wake up from an afternoon slumber 
to the sound of waves and seagulls. 
Sun covering me up, the clouds replacing a ceiling. 
The smell of salt in the air purifying my being. 

I want to hop around on the burning sand  
and run to the sea to heal. 
Taking the first sip of coffee in the morning 
overlooking the nature and not concrete.  

I want to be a tourist of the world, 
fit my life into a suitcase and run wild. 
Experience the world through adventure, 
the culture through the food, 
the customs through the language 
and the love through dancing.  

Latest Poem: Poem #354
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The Poetry Bar

Poem #354

What if we are the generations living through
the beginning of the end?
What if we are those who started to pay
for years of human transgression?

Maybe the end of the world will not be
an explosion, a meteor hitting the earth.
The apocalypse might be years of suffering,
death and devastation that lead to the blast
people start praying for.

What if we are the apocalypse that happened
to the planet we violently tried to own?

Latest Poem: Poem #353
Youtube videos: Luna’s channel
Latest Coffee Date: Equality in Parenthood
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Poems

Poem #353

They are talking about us as if it were their business
to dissect every fiber of our existence.
They wanted us to know it’s never going to work
because we don’t fit in with their point of view.

As if faith asked who we are and where we come from
and how much we have before it brought us together.
As if we could pick where our hearts want to rest.

It was like the movies, a bad boy chasing after the girl
that was looking for a reason to release all inhibitions.
What the movies didn’t teach us is that the happy ending
does not play out in real life.

The movie starts, we fall in love at first sight.
By the middle we jump over the obstacles in the name of love.
The plot twist comes, doubts start creeping in and we are
too young to process all of this.

In the movies love beats all but when you aren’t on the big screen
love is set aside and heartbreak takes the lead.
We betrayed us, we fell in line to take their point of view
just to justify why we couldn’t rise above.

Maybe we will learn from this, maybe we will know better because of this. And maybe it would all burn less if it was a decision and not
society’s imposition.

Latest Poem: Poem #352
Youtube videos: Luna’s channel
Latest Coffee Date: Equality in Parenthood
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Poems

Poem #352

Does losing creativity mean you have lost your soul?
Does the inability to create art mean you became hollow?

Life should be a well of inspiration but it was what
stripped your passion for expression away.

We have it all and we became the survive nation of the world.
There is no living in pretending to be happy.

The trinkets you acquire to fill empty spaces of your spirit
will always be just trinkets that break easily and go out of fashion.

Maybe salvation is in the rediscovery.
Rediscovery of beauty, art, living and poetry.
The rediscovery of the soul.

Latest Poem: Poem #351
Youtube videos: Luna’s channel
Latest Coffee Date: Equality in Parenthood
Latest #savingme: Give Women Their Rage Back

Categories
Poems

Poem #351

He didn’t ask questions, didn’t try to know you and
you fell in love with the way he held you
like a shell, a beautiful shell, but still a shell.

You built a story about your love because you thought
that you were supposed to feel love by then but it
was not love. It was excitement of the touch,
reaction of the body, sounds you believed you had to make.

What a terrible thing it is to convince a young mind
love is only skin on skin. Young and broken, you wanted
to believe that it was all real. Believe you had to ability to feel.

From that young age you were in search of those
who would touch your body but wouldn’t ask about your soul.
You put him on a pedestal, saying no one will ever love you like him
not realizing he never loved you to being with.

Blurry nights, packs of cigarettes and tequila shots.
Your hips, your hands, your body moving to the rhythm.
Your eyes closed, imagining those arms belong to him.

You decide to hide. The scars burn the same at 16 and 25.
You are scared that what’s inside you would scare the one in front of you. You perfected the art of being a shell, a beautiful shell but still a shell. The past is an old suitcase you hide under the bed.

You see him on the street and you want to scream:
“Why didn’t you care to know who I was?”
but not even a whisper leaves your mouth.

You are weak at the knees, the story flashes in front of your eyes.
Maybe you are powerless around him, because you are in presence of love? Maybe you were supposed to have it all but you were both too young? Or maybe, just maybe you want to believe that beautiful lie?

Latest Poem: Poem #350
Youtube videos: Luna’s channel
Latest Coffee Date: Equality in Parenthood
Latest #savingme: Give Women Their Rage Back