Sta.sh
Theme
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Total prizes reach 1000 
But of course there are always the rules......
Please please please fave the journal!
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this journal 
oints:
Today, we want to spotlight Visual Poetry. Please enjoy!
Higher Synchronization
A prison of my times .. and a paradise of yours .. but are you still listening to my echoes through your pulsations?
We could share ourselves through these wires .. but can you touch me without f l i n c h i n g?
With tangibility always the question .. answers ridicule my clumsy efforts to c r a w l out of this corner ..
Guilty of facing my back on hope .. it would still smile politely understanding what I really mean.
When we pushed through the blizzard .. we believed in what we couldn't see ..
but I fell out of your shadows and let myself breathe in my selfishness ..
When THEY take control of you .. let them in to give you those las
Condescending Mist
It could only start in the ..middle ..
or it would d i s a p p e a r into the obscure m i s t
A dull rumble echoed into my veins ..
regurgitating anxiety into my eyes ..
and dislodging my thoughts into chaos.
Pleading into the dusk ..
wouldn't prevent me from hitting the dust ..
re-birthing withdrew its last offer ..
substituting a beautiful d o o m.
Hands reach out in desperation ..
at the last lingering moments of warmth ..
fostered with blisters ..
they remain motionless in their numb d i s c o v e r y.
I l l u s i o n s of sleep no longer walk the edge of reality..
faithful to elude me in vengeance ..
visions thank my
Sunrise Morning
This sunrise morning
whilst walking in the orchard
I thought of you.
Turning a sweet smelling corner
I found you lingering there
silently waiting.
slightly out of focus
slightly out of reach
sides of you open, unfurling
while others remain locked tight
pieces of you shrouded in shadows
while others boldly face the light
always beautiful, you are,
one that I call my friend.
While I know it is hard to see
yourself through these eyes, try.
I thought of you.
Styrofoam Papersitting on the patchwork grey-black concrete
a paper cup, styrofoam, tipped and empty
two sets of teeth marks line the
top edge lending it character
as though
. On . Enrollment . Day .I wish my frozen lips could tell you
-I wish you could somehow know-
Of how it breaks my heart
When I have to watch you go.
And I wish you could come back
How I wish you would return
But this weight in my chest
Is beginning to twist and burn.
See, I have this strange feeling
That we will never meet again
-That I'm going to lose you,
But it's not something I can explain.
So I have to watch you go
To watch you march up to death
In your smart, new army outfit
With the cold misting from your breath.
And right before you disappear
You turn and wave back to me,
With a gleaming smile on your face
-As happy as can be.
But I still
Through an artist's eyes
A painter's world is made of
brushstrokes and lines,
with colors that flow
and swirling designs.
A photographer's hope
to get that perfect shot,
they try and try
and try with all they've got.
A poet's life is all
words and rhyme,
finding the right words
for the right time.
A drawer is made of
graphite and pencils,
freehanding art
and tracing with stencils.
A singer's mind
Weekly Feature: Spotlight on Visual Poetry!by #Poets-and-Warriors