MONDAY'S POET (If you're a writer send me a short story or something. I'm gonna start putting fiction and stuff up.)



It's when I see the rain roll to the edge of the wildflowers with the help
of the springtime breeze that I realize I'm in my secret place--the journey
where I catch a piece of mellow oblivion to escape the rush of thoughts,
the rush of feelings, the rush of realities that so frequently haunts and
vandalizes the tranquillity of mind.  It's my peace, my opium, my
inner-sanctity.  I can sit atop my towering precipice and see beyond all
that is distorted and misunderstood, to the laughter of the jubilant
children playing in the kaleidoscopic, flower-strewn field, oblivious to
the decisions and trials that lay before them.  It's the place I can avoid
the tribulations and inconsistencies that hover above me like the halo to
its angel.  It's a place I can find myself.  A place can be myself.  And a
place I can elude myself.

-by Jeremy H.


send me your haiku, poem, fiction. any kind. any style. anything. and let me know how you'd like to be credited. 

by the way, for you guys who have sent in poems that are like downers or violent and haven't seen em posted. it's not that i don't like your poem. sometimes i just think they're just not the best way to start off a week...

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