SFlora

Joined March 2010

Sukhwinder Floras poetry feature, Carried in the Wind exposes realms of existence trapped between the past and present. In the spirit of...

Journal

RIP ROBIN WILLIAMS

John Keating in Dead Poets Society: We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

Thank you...

I wanted to say thank you to the RB groups and community for the support and encouragement they have given me since ive signed up with this website, as i believe i would not have started to make/write again if i hadnt found it. You’ve inspired me to be creative again, for the past few years i had completely stopped. I dont care that i havent sold anything, for me this was about learning to find my self again. Im constantly amazed and inspired by the work on this here.

Thank you :)

Lyric Jigsaw - lyrics from different songs i know and poems i've read fit together to form one piece

WHO DARES TO KNOW FOREVER AND HOW STRANGE IS THE CHANGE FROM MAJOR TO MINOR AND SHE CRIES TO THE CLIKING OF TIME, CHANGE YOUR HEART, OPEN YOU EYES LOOK UP TO THE SKY AND SEE, CAN YOU SEE? LIVING IS EASY WITH EYES CLOSED MISUNDERSTANDING ALL YOU SEE, PURPLE HAZE ALL IN MY BRAIN, LATELY THINGS JUST DON’T SEEM THE SAME ACTING FUNNY AND I DON’T KNOW WHY EXCUSE ME WHILE I KISS THE SKY, HIS HEART WAS A PURPLE CASTLE WITHIN THE SELF MADE EMPIRE OF HIS SOUL THREADED WITH GHOSTLY WHISPERS OF DREAMS AND DEAD SOULS ROARED HIS OWN NAME TO THE FOUR WINDS, AND THE KILLING MOON, WE WALKED AROUND TILL THE MOON GOT FULL LIKE A PLATE, A SHADE ON THE MIND THERE PASSES AS WHEN ON NOON A CLOUD THE MIGHTY SUN ENCLOSES, THE WIND BLEW AN INNVOCATION I FELL ASLEEP AT THE GATE AND I NEVER STEPPED ON THE CRACKS COS

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