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devin6e
Praise Them, The Angels who lift the heads of the bowed Who tread the oceans of fallen tears To renew hope in the hearts of the broken     Those who lead the lost home   And remind us That we are never alone...
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 2:46 PM UTC
The Angels
They have come back The demons that vowed to haunt me forever Only now I smile Finally we are on the same side In darkness, there is only light.
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Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
Welcome Back
I have lost myself, In the pile of masks...
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Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 6:46 AM UTC
Lost
Take these words and hold them dear as proof that once I lingered here within these hallowed written walls that speak the fate of one and all. Do not mourn me when I'm gone heal your heart and carry on. In sorrow ne'er my heart did dwell for I was blessed to know you well. Place no flowers, lay no stone for barren earth is not my home no marker there to bare my name no mourners heads bowed deep in shame. Shed a solitary tear, then walk in light and never fear as darkness creeps across the land I will be there to hold your hand.
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Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 10:40 AM UTC
When I'm gone
~ I try, I swear I try, but you are always there, touching my thoughts with wonder, bringing desires to my mind on endless wishes cast upon continuous ripples, rapidly forming with every breath I take ~ Morning brings the sunrise in multicolored shades of how I feel Reaching for that lost love, floating like indigo butterflies just beyond my grasp, though I still want, with every ounce, every movement, every hope ~ I have been told I long for what I can not have, that elusive bloom at the peak of the arbor, radiant beauty washing down upon me, fragrant reminders of a time before, when your petals gathered at my heart ~ And try as I like it is of no use, my mind holds you, desperately dreaming in echoed whispers and twilight shadows which never seem to end For as long as there are butterflies, honeysuckle breezes and poetry... there will be you
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Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC
Butterflies, Honeysuckle Breezes and Poetry
and here i am again at the intersection of pedestrian language & old wives tales swallowing gum like 7 year memories opening umbrellas inside cause i can't seem get away from all of this rain i ********** with my left hand cause i was told back in highschool that "it feels like someone else is doing it" it gets me wondering about the difference between losing you and finding out that some one else found you or my sleep or lack thereof its starting to tear me apart i keep having this dream where you are in an unfamiliar body of water trying to wash my poetry off of your hands or the one where something happens in my chest every time you sit on someone else's bed i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced but don't have the heart to look for anymore tired of you saying my name like you're trying to bury it i'm tired of wondering if you can tell the difference between the absence of my voice & silence the other day i almost started sobbing at work when a woman asked me about our equipment i was explaining how things come apart and almost mentioned your name it made me think of how you used to say things like "what would you do if i showed up on your doorstep one day?" now, i haunt the windows in my house i don't leave for weeks at a time i sit on the porch like the dog you didn't shoot behind the shed the one that refuses to die until you come home again i told somebody once, that you didn't even know what my voicemail sounded like i wonder if they thought it was because you are so important that i never let it ring that many times before picking up or if you dont know what it sounds like because you've never called you can't be the ****** weapon and the search party i'm tired of all the seats to the ferris wheel in my chest being empty tired of your voice being the one i look for in abandoned places that one sound i beg to bounce back down vacant hallways i just seem to stand there in all of that quiet like someone looking for a mistake on an eviction notice so i guess the hardest part isn't letting go it's forgetting you ever had a grip in the first place and since you've been gone i wonder if when you pushed yourself away from me you used your left hand so it felt like someone else did it
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Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
epithet
and here i am again at the intersection of pedestrian language & old wives tales swallowing gum like 7 year memories opening umbrellas inside cause i can't seem get away from all of this rain i ********** with my left hand cause i was told back in highschool that "it feels like someone else is doing it" it gets me wondering about the difference between losing you and finding out that some one else found you or my sleep or lack thereof its starting to tear me apart i keep having this dream where you are in an unfamiliar body of water trying to wash my poetry off of your hands or the one where something happens in my chest every time you sit on someone else's bed i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced but don't have the heart to look for anymore tired of you saying my name like you're trying to bury it i'm tired of wondering if you can tell the difference between the absence of my voice & silence the other day i almost started sobbing at work when a woman asked me about our equipment i was explaining how things come apart and almost mentioned your name it made me think of how you used to say things like "what would you do if i showed up on your doorstep one day?" now, i haunt the windows in my house i don't leave for weeks at a time i sit on the porch like the dog you didn't shoot behind the shed the one that refuses to die until you come home again i told somebody once, that you didn't even know what my voicemail sounded like i wonder if they thought it was because you are so important that i never let it ring that many times before picking up or if you dont know what it sounds like because you've never called you can't be the ****** weapon and the search party i'm tired of all the seats to the ferris wheel in my chest being empty tired of your voice being the one i look for in abandoned places that one sound i beg to bounce back down vacant hallways i just seem to stand there in all of that quiet like someone looking for a mistake on an eviction notice so i guess the hardest part isn't letting go it's forgetting you ever had a grip in the first place and since you've been gone i wonder if when you pushed yourself away from me you used your left hand so it felt like someone else did it
Continue reading...
93
Gold was the sun That cold Tuesday Melting the ice That laced the ashes Of my incinerated heart. Yet when you walked by I felt the shadows of the flames The flames that burnt me alive And when you stood in the spotlights When you stood in the eyes of an uncaring crowd When they called your name And you were greeted with baneful silence When you stepped forward My heart cried I felt your pride And my smile alone tore Apart the sea of stone indifference Yet you will never know the love I still have for you For you discarded me And all that I am...
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Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
Discarded
She greets the dawn with her cold eyes Eyes chiseled by ancient architects Ever so slightly cracked Forever gazing upon the changing seasons And the wilting of sanguine roses. Her still hands forever out stretched Reaching for something long forgotten Perhaps a lost love The gentle rain Or the birds of spring. Her fading smile Forever bringing happiness To photographs And paintings lost to time. Her delicate feet Fixed upon the dark marble Walking to imaginary lands. Dusk comes . . . She laughs in her still serenity As the mosses The darkness And the chills of the northern winds Envelop her once more. And in silence She drifts in a deep slumber Awaiting a new dawn A new day . . .
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May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC
The Grey Woman
The ash heart within my chest Lies grey and charred Still housing the embers Of the love that burned it alive. I watch as pieces of my love Flake away and shatter , on the cold grounds Like the snow From an all too early winter. I forever walk On the dark road Traveled only by the strangers Who share my sin Those who share my love. My dead heart continues to beat In the hope that Even though you may not love me in this world That perhaps you will wait for me Outside the gates of the heaven. So that you could rebuild my heart Piece by piece In the great gardens of the angels And so that I can finally share my love with you. We could forever lay in the warmth of the sun And forever gaze upon the afterglow of the stars. I love you , but perhaps I am a little too naive.
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May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC
Naive
I would just like to say thank you to those who welcomed me to Hello Poetry. This is really a fantastic group of individuals that we have here and I am amazed at the love and support that everyone here shows. I look forward to reading what you all write, some of you are gifted in the arts of poetry. Again Thank You May everyone have a blessed day . . . LOVE AND REGARDS
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Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
To The Poets