poetrypulse poetry competitions uk

free monthly competition - August 2017 (35 entries)
The Fall
Though real, this is just a story
Just to tell, there's something beyond
This poem is happening …

Feeling low
Patient & slow
Sensing the free flow

Lying down to chill
Body perfectly still
Willingly enjoying the thrill

This is not me, this is not me …
Repeatedly I affirmed
Maintaining stability, became intense
Subtler & subtler, grew the content

Slowly as the body dissolved
I stopped the inner recall
It was indeed an endless free fall

The clouds uncovered the Sun
Hiding within was it!
Experience of the infinite …

The illusion lost its power on me
As all the boundaries diminished
Everything I knew as me, just vanished

© Pranav Niturkar 2017  

I speak poetry
I speak poetry for a reason
I speak poetry to be free
I speak poetry to express
I speak poetry to create my world
I speak poetry to change the world
I speak poetry to warn the world

I speak poetry to live
I speak poetry to feel better
I speak poetry to manage my anger
I speak poetry for a reason
just don't judge me.
please don't judge me.

© Laurance Phiello Sebiloane 2017  

The Caged Eagle
The sky was bright, clear and blue.
High up somewhere, the angels flew.
Sang the birds a melodious hymn.
But sat in a cage, the crownless king.

Wincing up sat the Eagle, gloomy was his mood.
There was meat in his cage, he did not eat the food.
His heart was in pain, he could feel it in the chest.
He wanted to soar high, but he was not free like the rest.

Today it was different, he was determined to get out.
He tried to bite off the bars, he cried out loud.
The bars wouldn't break, he tried biting harder.
Thus broke his beak, and so did his ardour.

He cried out loud, his heart was burning.
Hearing all this, came the owner running.
The owner laughed at the eagle, and opened his cage.
Cooled the eagle's anxiety, thus cooled his rage.

He saw the cage open, couldn't believe his eyes.
Once again he was free, he could again rule the skies.
He took the leap of faith, but fell down with a thud.
In this happiness he had forgotten, his wings had been cut.

© Alhaad Hussain 2017  

Scary beasts
We know where they are
In every one of us
But we are petrified

These beasts are terrorists
You shouldn't negotiate with them
Demons are everywhere
In everyone

Don't negotiate with demons
Face your demons
If and when you do
Don't face them alone

© Success Akpojotor 2017  

A Single Rose
Just a single flower bloomed there-
Among the neglect and all the weeds,
And yet I took such pleasure in its colour,
for, nothing else within this tangle of thorns,
Could compare to its beauty.

How I longed to reach forward and pluck it out,
And, to lay in gently upon my lover's grave,
But I dare not- for it was not mine to take,
Even though it called to me.

Nothing can really cheer her lonely resting place,
Although, I have often tried, yet failed,
For it is a miserable sight of all but grey stone,
Only the birds break the silence to sing there.

She too was a beauty too rare among a sea of thorns,
And just as that lonely rose, she too had been cruelly plucked,
In all my efforts to love, to cherish, I did but destroy,
Though that was never my intention to her.

Some say kindly that I could not have known,
yet, as she sleeps, I live on in perpetual torment,
I stoop to read her faded name and kneel before her resting place,
And I place so delicately that single rose upon her grave,
A rose to lovely as she.


Need Love Too
Need Love Too

I should've just left

© Darren Grimsell 2017  

Paper Products (An Ode)
Oh toilet paper, and paper towels
You wipe my hands and you wipe my bowels
And in the morning when I wake up
I drink my juice from a paper cup
If you would like to see what I ate
Just take a look at my paper plate

Oh paper products, you are so keen!
I like it when you can make me clean!

© Denise Wilkerson 2017  

Freedom be Defined
Like a cascade defined
Freedom be spelled
When it makes its course so fine
If I'm thee and I be high
Running down comes the course of mine
So does the freedom be defined

Like the sun rays defined
Freedom be spelled
When it makes everything to shine
if I'm thee and I do glow
Spreading go the rays of mine
So does the freedom be defined

Like a wind defined
Freedom be spelled
When it soars through the skies so high
If I'm thee and I do float
And sharp goes the course of mine
So does the freedom be defined

Like the vision defined
Freedom be spelled
Splashes vast the sphere of thine
If I'm thee and I do emerge
from the eyes and touch the highest pine
So does the freedom be defined

Like the love defined
Freedom be spelled
Mesmerizing be the feeling of thine
If I'm thee and I do seep
through the hearts of the sacred shrines
so does the freedom be defined

© Rida Mukhtar 2017  

A letter with some words, which drew out swords
As she read it, her face slowly lit
Then remembering how coward he was, in her happiness there was a pause
Day and night she thought just one thing
How to make her husband king
As the withered creatures had predicted
Glamis, Cawdor and then King Macbeth
She knew kindness wouldn’t take them far . The ambitious woman could not wait for the right stars.
So she set sail right away , to catch the nearest way
Poison had crept into her soul, she had to achieve her filthy goal
Her malevolent eyes gleamed, with wickedness she beamed
Fiendish thoughts were running round her mind. A pinch of macabre couldn’t be unkind
Avarice had taken over her head. She wouldn’t let anyone in her path, tread.
And any man who would try to, would in heaven, begin a life anew
Poor King Duncan was first in her list, who that night, was invited for a feast.
“But what will my husband say?”, she thought. Inciting him was another plot
To her husband, she poured out the plan ,but Macbeth was a noble man
A timid man, a rapacious woman. It was hard to decide whose ethics would win
Little provocation sowed the seed. He agreed to be a part of the deed
After the king had supped and gone to bed all stuffed,
She unscrupulously took out the daggers and to Duncan’s room she staggered.
Something in the old man’s face reminded her of her father,
She knew she could not go in this business any further.
She came out hit by cowardice. Her husband looked at her with eager eyes
“You did it?”, he said impatiently. She thrust out the daggers reluctantly
Macbeth till now had understood everything, with daggers in hand, he plodded in quest of the king.
He returned with hands blood stained. Fear in the aura reigned.
“Why did you bring these?”, she sullenly whispered, pointing at the guilty red daggers.
And then seeing her husband turn pale
She went and kept the daggers back, putting an end to the gory tale.
The crime was discovered . Malcolm and Donalbain, to England hovered.
Macbeth and Lady Macbeth were then crowned king and queen. Boorish ecstasy conquered her body, lean.
She moved triumphantly to the sound of drums, unaware of the animosity that was yet to come.
Macbeth was on the top of the world but in his way, his dearest friend Banquo’s presence hurled,
On the ghoulish journey he had embarked. Banquo’s death the devils had now marked.
The tables had started to turn, she was now no more than a secluded wild fern,
For Macbeth now was bulging so much with vanity, that he gradually started to lose his sanity.
In front of him, he saw nothing but greed and his vocation and started degrading her- his kingdom’s foundation .

“A seed was sown. A tree was grown
He threw away the backbone. The tree haplessly mourned
After a while it was gone, then he was left all alone
And deceased by dawn...”

Negligence was a pain, she couldn’t bear. At night shrieks of the old man, she had started to hear.
She walked around the castle at night, reciting to the walls her melancholic plight.
Hallucinations of blood spots on her hands ,came to her as Duncan’s curse from a far off land.
She moved around in darkness. Sleepwalking was an ailment with no spark of wellness.
Repenting making the potentate she had created out of her aspirations,
The queen of witches died, lamenting her iniquitous ambition.
A lady who made her husband believe, he could conquer death,
Was none other than the great Lady Macbeth.

© Ira Narang 2017  

The melancholy of rupture
Things were all wrong,
Situation messed up over all.
Life became empty,
When god parted me from you harshly.
Your memories flashed back in the form of tears,
Which drowned my heart with a loneliness fear.
Months passed by as long,
My wounds did not heal up for a single cause.
The reason for loving you is still a mystery,
But loving you till my last breath is my reality.

© Tarang Garg 2017  

The city of mists
I have seen you in the city of mists
walking hand in hand with love.

Along twisted canals of obscurity,
intertwined bicycle lanes of forgetfulness.

Fleeting images of a Bollywood farce.
A lost interplanetary soul, groping for the big answers.

Images that sweep in slow cascade
of monochrome, or sometimes in colour.

Set in time and setting pace.
Subliminally, to your own swithering steps.

Then, peering through the gathered brume,
did you see medieval windows?

With pale reflections of the morning
and vignettes of unmade beds?
Ashes and bottles of a party long over.

Did you see the office bus?
Gathering the destitute from crowded stops.
Delivering them to cubicles of tinted glass.

And secret make-up rooms of the university,
where futures bedizen,
looking into mirrors of the past?

Or rather, casting your gaze upwards,
did you see squealing gulls?
Their wings outstretched in mid-flight soar?

The sunset glow of fireflies?
Amid conversations that blend
into the indigo of night?

And when thestrals creep in
roaming the wastelands of desire,

did you see the raging centaur,
in pursuit of the antelopes of dawn?

© Surajit Sengupta 2017  

Smile Of Love.
My heart took shelter
In the darkness
As it was tired
Looking at the sky.
My eyes habituated
To the darkness
As they were tired
Eagerly looking for the advent of moonlight.
My soul prayed
The darkness
As it lost its existence
Eagerly looking for the lightening.
My heart embraced
Separation in the darkness
As it bent its head
Waiting for the glee gleam of Love.

© Prashanth Dingari 2017  

You Don't Know
You don’t know I checked the notification window
each and every time message alarm beeps.
You don’t know my book told me that I was crying
when two drops of water fell on it.
You don’t know I love to sit on a particular bench
where I wrote your name when you were late for class.
You don’t know how spacious it feels under an umbrella
when I walk alone in rainy days.
You don’t know when I order two tea mistakenly
then the shopkeeper gives a sarcastic smile.
You don’t know one of the branches is broken
that I never noticed when I used to sit beside you.
You don’t know I used to write your name
in rain bathed window and erase it so that no one can see.
You don’t know I told you I am upset
not because of you just to see you happy.
You don’t know I spelt the same sentence in different ways
that you commented on facebook and got confused.
You don’t know I smiled when I was walking
beside the café and saw a couple sat on that exact place.
You don’t know I love you more than me
but that I haven’t told since you don’t feel the same.
You don’t know I am writing the poem to you
but you are thinking it’s for somebody else.

© Souvik Kundu 2017  

Echoes from the tunnel
O, how we worked on that mess,
Our cotton shirts clinging to our backs
The trenches snaked along and the pit deepened
But no one noticed that the plans were incomplete
And no one stopped to ask
About contingencies

And the truth lies dead and buried!

The foremen strained against the ropes
While laborers stacked coal and dynamite
Mighty rocks and tons of crumbling dirt
Cradled the site, and beneath the feet of the men,
The ground was churned into thick, frothy mud
When the charge was lit, the world rocked
And we screamed, knowing immediately
That it was all wrong

And the truth lies dead and buried!

We tried, O, we tried, to get them out
To retrieve our own blood
But the acrid air stabbed at our eyes and lungs
So we filled in all the cavernous holes
Guessing that none of them survived the blast
But alas, what a grievous mistake we committed

And the truth lies dead and buried!

© A.C. O'Dell 2017  

My heart with God
Lost and found by scares of heart
Angel turn to surveillance drone
My heart is always a tracker
How can I ran away from God?
I didn't realized this like a gentle soul
Riches of the earth electrocute my body
I ran out of surveillance in fury
Time asked for its payment yearly
Scale of sin and righteousness is measured
God track me back with my heart
All plan failed, things fade away
But I am given something I never dream
Peace in prefect rest in is dearest kingdom
Many a years are hours of joy
God loves man, man loves riches
But my heart is always in love with God.

© Usman Yusuf 2017  

Poem on Punam Suri sir President of DAV CMC, Recipient of PADMA SHRI AWARD

Our beacon of light……..
An enigmatic persona, a ‘stalwart among educator’,
A pathfinder for the scores of teachers.
With a pragmatic and enlightened vision,
Sir has steered the DAV institutions towards ‘excellence and Infinitum’.
His ardent endeavors in propagating the Vedic philosophy and ideology,
Has served in grooming each Davian into moral, humane and multi-faceted personality.
Sir’s vision of making the DAV institutions as harbinger of a new change,
Ready to take the onus of shaping a new country,
Has guided us to chart our course,
In transforming this vision into reality.
Galvanized by his motivation, we are moving ahead
To nurture our pupils as leaders of a new and better India - with a new identity

With a Samaritan like Sir, as our pillar of strength,
We are full of conviction of chiseling our pupils as Nation’s invaluable wealth.
Laced with a compassionate spirit And amiable temperament,
you exude an aura that radiates sanguinity at its best.


Today we nest
by the canal, birthing
first light of April

One day, we’re crows
scaring children with
“Sqwaa! Sqwaa!”

Puffing chest on
all too low flying
magpie minds

And I’d snatch the
eyes of any setting
your blood to boil

Hopefully, by the
winter pilgrimage
we sail

But if not, with
their scratching heads
our eulogy:

“What a loud pair,
why perch and not

The more you ask
the more we laugh
on a merry-go-round

© Liam Egan 2017  

This poem is heavy,
Heavy than the air we carry.
This poem is Light - Light,
Lighter than the moon and its shadows.

This poem is bitter,
But its lines are sweet as truth.
This poem is sweet,
But its themes are sour like dirges.

This poem is hidden,
But the metaphors are after you,
and you are under its spells
Like the white we call red.

This poem is immortal,
But it dies everyday too.
It dies everytime you chase the sun,
to brighten up your night.

This poem owns the night,
But when you burn your breathe
For your gold dangling amidst fire,
It becomes your morning - mourning.

This poem is dead - death,
For it only lives when your time comes,
It doesn't kill the dying man,
But it kills the man dying before death.

Adedolapo Ansel George

© Adedolapo Adeniran 2017  

I pray for you
Squandering around like a flaneur on the busy earth,
Not devouring an ounce of life, only questioning your birth,
Who'll explore the mid shades of rainbow?,
Forgot another dimension of this fire? 0h,
Busy reading the faces of wilting tulips,
Never fathoming the ambiguity buried in her cruel lips,
May every drop of this rain wash your wounds,
I'll pray may you only nurture your warm moods,
When pacing your streets, with a gait this slow,
I'll pray may you stand out aloud in this flow,
Before chalking out another excuse,
I'll pray may the odds of your emptiness refuse,
Stop wispering with melancholy,
There exists a pure land for us, unholy,
Maybe the sun'll never stop shining black,
I'll pray, every uneven slant may fill your crack,
Whilst rhapsodizing the chills of gloom,
I'll pray may the orphic depths of your heart bloom,
I'll pray in every layer of my skin,
I'll pray beyond the barriers of sin,
Though fallen in the battles of heart, I pray,
To behold you shimmered in glee, acknowledging your gray.

© Rida Akhtar Ghumman 2017  

Damning Exoneration
Curious indifference,
Organised tomfoolery,
Blind witness,
Righteous cruelty.

Joyful goodbyes,
Morose return,
Cheery despise,
Hostile yearn.

Dreadful splendour,
Loose-lipped taciturnity,
Lavish abhor,
Neglectful maternity.

Hallowed darkness,
Liberated incarceration,
Soothing starkness,
Damning exoneration.

Elusive obvious,
Uncertain faith,
Original plagiarism,
Flawless spoonerism.

Uncontradictable oxymoron,
Terminating preamble,
Concise pleonasm,
Preparative conclusion.

© Renfio Chins 2017  

Moon out tonight
Moon out tonight
Peeling back

© Mary Steffen 2017  

The Captive
Today I sit engulfed by these iron bars
Trapped in the prison due to my sins and my scars
Aspiring for freedom, and my needs
But it’s impossible due to my unfaithful deeds

I sit in the dark and the dark upon me
Admonished by my innumerable plea
To the riches and the officials of mine
Whose help and support, I was denied

I had no other way but the amiss
My daughter was sick and her treatment was to miss
No one helped and supported this lad
And so I decided to take the path bad

I pulled the trigger and broke into the bank
For my ailing daughter my heart just sank
Had the riches lend me their gold
I wouldn’t be a captive in this prison so old

I saved my dear, but then came the fear
Handcuffs and irons were destined to appear
I was thrown in this cell for the rest of my life
Tears in my eyes await my daughter and my wife

The only hope enlightening me
Is the soothing breeze coming across the sea
From the small window of the cell
Upon my flaccid face like the crystal shell

I aspire for freedom, but free is the bird
Sitting on the window whose singing I heard
Singing with dignity, singing with pride
Singing for the prisoner sitting right beside

I am a captive in the prison and so is the breeze
Yet the breeze sings the song of freedom and peace
I envy its freedom and curse it to be
And yet I say “Oh! Breeze, please sing for me”

Sing for my aspirations, sing for my kin
Sing for my plea and for my sin
Sing for the riches and their shimmering glow
Sing to prevent culprits like me to grow

© Shreya Jaiswal 2017  

Let me be
If you lost someday,
let me be the pole star to guide your way,
let me be the path in which you wanna move away,
or let me be the breeze to accompany you,
or let me just say ‘I love you’.

If u are happy,
let me be the sunshine and kiss your lips,
let me spot the light on you and hold your hips,
or let me just be the moment that you want to,
or let me just say ‘I love you’.

If you miss someone,
let me be the rain,
let me wash away your tears of pain,
please don’t push me away from you,
please let me say ‘I love you’.

© dipayan das 2017  

Crowd in midst of island,
Island in midst of crowd;
Frowning towards a little child;
Poverty stricken with fashion brands.

Love is hard to get,
Admirance harder to achieve;
Cruelty shared freely,
Rudeness-a piece of cake.

Fatal is the wound
On his forehead.
Does anybody care?
Samaritan-a mere spectator.

© Debolina Biswas 2017  

It is empty beating of the air
To pass through life just following status quo,
Existing perhaps on others’ vision,
The purposes of men,
Opinions spelt out to one,
Never knowing who one really is,
What creation intended,
The immeasurable depth embedded,
In the precious soul of every human,
Until one is thirty, forty, fifty, sixty,
Still unsure of what to do or be,
Still searching, groping in a dark place,
A dark place of the mind,
To decipher one’s creation purpose.
It is a misnomer of life,
A fault that must be corrected,
A major crack in a built mansion,
That renders it unfit for habitation.
To know that one has missed the mark,
Is one huge milestone overcome;
Following is the painful process,
Of retracing steps backward in time,
A journey through the mind,
To locate the place where it was lost,
Where one stopped studying own personality,
Where one stopped looking to fill
The divinity sized void,
That accompanies from creation;
Where one focused on others,
What they did and achieved,
What they thought,
Not remembering own path.
Until neglected shreds are picked up,
The Creator invited to reign supreme,
To manoeuvre His own creation,
To enable one to know own personality,
Assessing the situation only depresses.
A philosopher once suggested,
‘‘Man, know thyself. ’’
A prerequisite to fulfilment of destiny
On this crystal ball,
A tool to help discover,
The helplessness of man without his Maker’s presence,
The multitude of talents he carries,
The synergistic effect of the talents corporately in use,
Timeliness of words and actions,
When to do and say what,
When to move and when to stay.
In the wilderness of life,
Where no minute clear cut paths await,
Man, know thyself,
Know thy Maker

© Lina Ama 2017  

Midsummer's Ghost
Between beams of dappled light

Among swarms of unlucky gnats

Drifts someone lost and mute, something pale and anguished.

A full torso apparition. A suicidal premonition.

She seeks no second chances - only fervent copulation under champagne mist.

Melts into his picnic blanket, head in a corduroyed lap.

A foil to the June glow, I’m frozen in perennial winter.

My loneliness fails to register. Only strawberries and cream and gin-soaked decisions.

I watch them fuck on oxblood sheets in a hundred dread positions. I watch them fuck.

And as she falls asleep in foreign beds for sixty years to come, I shrivel and bloat and rot and weep under a fickle English sun.

© Christie-Luke Jones 2017  

Dust to Dust is my destiny
None bother about my identity
Trampled by souls I enlightened
The blackness which I whitened

I reminisced my glorious past
Unacknowledged till the last
Handpicked for a noble task
Alas, No one cared to ask

Armour, I pose as a tutor’s sword
Ardour, I am a blackboard bard
My profound palette of whirls and words
Were blindly copied by intellects and nerds

However when the last bell clanged
My noble self they trashed and banged
Trampled, Thrown and disrespected
By knowledgeable souls, I never expected

Men and Women, Oh, so naïve
I have enlightened in vain
Academic fraternity yours to pause
And pay your respect to my cause

© Miriam GEORGE 2017  

Let darkness your soul munch
You Grim ripper's stepping stone
May maggots feast on your pursed flesh
Cursed you are
Withered being with a shriveled heart
Goth is your worth
Hades calls you his own

To you shall passion yield blood and death
Let doom loom before your room
Pitiful corpse of a radiant fool
Hunted shall be thy sight
Gory shall be thy existence
His prisoner you are
No sanctuary no salvation

Yes remember when you lied a little
Recall the caution you threw to the wind
And sinned
By your hands you branded your name in hell
The fires awaits
The fire beckons
Fate could be changed
Review your life and Rewrite your Enternity

© onome iyare 2017  

And in the end
What are we
But atoms simply falling

A kaleidoscope
Of beauty
The universe is calling

© Suzy Watson 2017  

To be the bard
To write like the bard,
First you must live like the bard,
So be gruff to your wife,
For the rest of your life.

Lock yourself away out of sight,
Then write delicately of power and might,
Tell of the legends of old,
But when approached, be sure to be cold.

Stare off into the abyss,
Give social graces a miss,
Begin to converse only in rhyme,
Continue to drink more and more wine.

Snarl at every chance,
Let curses and anger advance,
Care not when folk chastize and moan,
Fight them like a dog o'er a bone.

They say to be a poet 'tis an honour,
But scoff at that 'til the day your a goner,
You must live out life like a weasel,
For pleasantries...stick to the easel.

So to be the bard means to be sour,
To be cantankerous at every waking hour,
For all those who went afore,
Did likewise, and it's hard to ignore.

© Renf Iochins 2017  

tell her
There’s a branch with a single fruit
the actress says it’s a pumpkin
it’s a monkey puzzle nut
haven’t the heart
to tell her
She leads me across fields
to an oak covering a farmyard
There’s a single cow tethered
in the lavatory
a labrador dog on guard
mounts a lifesize charitybox
guidedog for the blind
and ejaculates
There’s a railway station
the cow and the labrador spot trains
listen to the station’s chiming clock
The actress wonders at the bucolic
beauty of it all
There’s a fig tree
with fruit abundant
haven’t the heart
to tell her

© Steven John 2017  

Who am I
The knock on the door, sending shivers down my spine, my hands now all clammy., my head out of line.
I look to the left, hoping to see, praying it's not

© julie forster 2017  

In your world,inside your country,
in your town,inside your house,
in your family...
... strangers came around.
even inside you...
language was never found.

© Oriada Dajko 2017  

I can still smell the hot pot
My nanny used to make
A pigs trotter or two
Is usually what it takes
Her rouge cheeks
Grey sprinkling wavy hair
American tan tights
On shapely
Dancing legs
Ten children later
Her face
And heart
As beautiful as before
Her raven black hair
It isn't there anymore
Her soothing breast
It breaths no more
I miss you darling
I'm glad you
Had a happy life
And sad
Your not allowed
On earth
Like before

© Julie Anne Eve 2017  

The lust for life.
She steps out, lifts her head to look at the sky and assumes her insignificance in the multiverse.
The curse of life comes to her disguised as a gift. The joy, amusement and innumerable possibilities of life tempt her.
“Take it” Say the voices in her head.
“Take it now for it's a gift that none would refuse”.
She is tempted. She is pushed to the very edge.
She makes the choice.
She chooses life.
And just like that she is born.

She spends the first few years in great anticipation, trying to grow. Struggling through each day.
Youth comes in search of her; she blossoms like edelweiss under the morning spring sun.
Young, foolish and full of life. She faces the biggest question, a terror that life hides.
An agony that everybody before her who chose life had endured.
What am I supposed to do, now that I'm alive?,she asks herself.
But she fails; she fails to answer the question.

She finds the love of her life; he gives her immense pleasure and happiness.
He makes her think he is worth living for. He comforts her, kisses her hair, cuddles with her and looks into her eye as she thinks she's done it.
But she fails; she fails to answer the question.

She becomes a mother.
She becomes the reason for another person. She wraps her arm around him and feels his cheeks with her finger as he sucks the blessing of life out of her breasts.
His tiny little limbs, his jet black hair and his jelly red lips make her think this is it.
But she fails; she fails to answer the question.

Greed, desire, passion and pride fill her chest.
She strives harder and harder every day.
She watches herself accomplish things and conquer the world.
She gets what she wants, but always fails to know what she needs.
Rich, famous and successful now, she thinks this is it.
But she fails; she fails to answer the question.

She steps out, lifts her head to look at the sky and assumes her insignificance in the multiverse.

© Vishal GopalKrishna 2017  

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