“MY DISABLED WORLD” – MORE OF YOUR POEMS

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What is it, if it’s not an affection?

She has been my everyday’s favorite imaginary meal
My everyday wish and need
To grab her inside the case of my hand
Like coins and notes in a wallet, a brief case or a tin
You’re the moon, a target but not easily shot, ain’t you?

My garage is vacant, dry and hungry
My garage is open like the sky
There’s none – not any; who can fill it. But only her,
with her hips and wheels, front and behind, windows and mirrors.
Like glue, you paste a smile on my face, don’t you?

When she passes on the street
My blood run kilometers per seconds
My heart hits the shiny and tiny stars warmly,
It dances over the river of honey and glitters with delight,
With your nice nose, you trigger my smile like a bullet, don’t you?

Nothing makes me feel comfortable than the softness of your couches,
When I touch you, I fall in the dam of laughter and tears of joy,
As from now, not I have you in my hands but in my mind,
As an image, you exist and I feel you, you are in my garage,
And I hope I will grasp your steering wheel one day, won’t I?

Poem submitted by Selomane Thomas Abram

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Let go …

The call of the buzzard draws me in 

To a place I’ve never been 

It’s dark inside with no one there 

And nothing can be seen 

 

The buzz of silence within my head 

Echos a conscious decision 

To go inside and disappear 

To avoid all this confusion 

 

The darkness wraps its arms around

And holds me firm and strong

Giving me the time to think

That something is quite wrong

 

Above the trees it’s a different world 

One full of space and time

Where no one ever questions 

And the feeling is quite sublime 

 

I rest my head to watch the clouds

Drift by without a care

Of anyone or anything 

And nothing to declare 

 

A sense of place to call my own

Where no one can disturb

The thoughts and feelings deep within 

Resting unperturbed 

 

The face can show a different side

So others cannot see

That layered deep within your soul

Is where you need to be

 

Rest my friend and take your time

To discover who you are 

Find solace in the ones you love

And the buzzard is never far…

Entry submitted by Kate H Bryant – whose favourite charity is Versus Arthritis
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My uncle is disabled
My uncle is disabled
But why do they call it disabled?
He still loves
He still chats
He still laughs
Which to me means he is still able
In fact, to me he is more than able
He is my uncle and I love him
Poem submitted by Henry Tayler – whose favourite charity is Shekinah