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kg-1
The written word is the most beautiful and magical creation one could ever conceive. / / Hello All! Just an English Major in love with beautiful words. Actor, writer, and avid reader. I'm here to explore the human experience through poetry.
it’s mine. swaddled in a down embrace my Outlook changes the air, muggy carries the high-pitched alerts of chorus frogs i need not respond. a solitary fingertip illuminated s c r o l l i n g blue burned eyes resisting sabotaging The Day
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Jun 20, 2025
Jun 20, 2025 at 1:15 AM UTC
the night
We drink wine As the weary wings of the dove Labor over restless graves Weaving between the carnival cruises Drifting along the red canal Three hundred cubits long, Fifty wide and thirty tall Rivers red overflow The cypress whip cracks Licking the ****** hide With a serrated tongue Ripped from gnawed ******* Raw From the desperate lips of brothers and sisters. Rivers red overflow With the whimpers of last breaths Muted by the blade of violent delight And teeth grinding machines We sit in our squeaking rubber boots Cutlery clinks and clacks, saws, severs, slice. Rivers red overflow With an anguished unholy Screeching sound Deaf are our saintly ears We drink wine As the weary dove Returns empty beaked Once more to his perch And preens his scarlet feathers
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Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
There Will Be No Olive Branch
The ticking of an antique clock, The smell of unwashed dishes, A sinewy hand curled around the heart Small slits of sunlight Peaked through the blind’s half shut eyelids. Burrowed in the shadows, She sunk into the old armchair. Ink scrawled papers littered the room, Resting gloomily on the coffee stained carpet and dust flecked tables. The words would not come. Her notepad ---- a casket for the desiccated shells Of words that carried no life.
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Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 8:46 PM UTC
Untitled
She woke, shivering in the dark of night Wary of the long shadows on the wall Flicking on the pink hued tulip nightlight To forget the monster with one eyeball The giant teddy bear with sharpened claws The troll that sneered and chased her down the street The King Kong turtle with quick snapping jaws The freckled boy who ate her ice-cream treat She runs down the cold hall to Mommy’s room She turns the **** and tiptoes to her bed “I had a nightmare,” the little girl croons. “Shhh, it was only a dream,” Mommy said She tucks her in and rocks her back to sleep Years later she wakes alone, cold and naked Her dreams a waking truth; the woman weeps Resenting all the precious years wasted From room to room she walks the barren halls There is no one. Only an empty house With silent photos hanging on the walls
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Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 9:28 PM UTC
Nightmares
Come, take my hand Follow me into the forest The fallen leaves, drenched with rain, will guide our path Through the shaded glade and up the moss covered hill Don’t be afraid to step in the mud Listen, hear the crisp snap of twigs echo in the distance The soft lull of trickling water, flowing in the creek Watch, catch a glimpse of the timid deer Hiding in the thicket and the little squirrel Lilting across the treetops, acorns in cheek Touch, stroke the rough bark beneath your fingertips Caress the summer leaves, immerse your hands In the tranquility of soothing waters Feel, accept the dawn’s gentle kisses upon your face The pure spirits that inhabit the trees Feel nature pulsing through your body with renewed vitality Breathe deeply; Infuse your lungs with the richness of life And speak: Tell me, Mr. Arborist, Do you still wish to destroy the forest?
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Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 11:43 PM UTC
Guardians of the Forest
Sopor fuels the pen Darkness devours the sun As she carves the page With beautiful words *Ethereal, Opulent Sonder, syzygy* *Vellichor, Gambol Efflorescence, Effluence* Words without meaning Lurk in the shadows And hovels of ambition Creep onto the page But the mind embraced In a blanket of obscurity Cannot find their worth *Her Mellifluous song Ensorcelled her lover Bliss in limerence* How can the stagnant Heart waltz with stars, write of love, Beat in unison? How can the lifeless Soul connect with humanity? My words are worthless
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Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
Her Words are Worthless
Nanny, Saying goodbye was the hardest thing I have ever done. As I tread along the barren corridor that night, I passed the poorest of souls. Those whose frenzied hands moved without purpose, Muttering incomprehensible sounds from their shrunken lips, As they stared absently at the walls, never truly seeing. With a clenched jaw, I had to divert my gaze, Wondering who these people were Before their lives were stolen by Time, The unquenchable monster slowly sipping at their youth. A loving mother, brother, daughter, husband, sister? Their stories I will never know. I wondered if you would remember yours… 365 The sign on the door read Christina Cook, Written hastily on the old whiteboard, Stained black with the names of those who resided here before. I will never forget the unbearable sorrow I felt as I entered your room. Nanny, you used to tell me aging was a natural process, Like the changing autumn leaves. But you forgot to tell me that after that beautiful, Final blaze of glory, They fall. Littering the ground in their fading shades of brown, Disintegrating into powder. Spread by the wind as ashes. I held your hand, and felt the leathery skin That bound your delicate bones. But, it wasn’t you. Gone was the strong woman, Mother of 8, grandmother of 19 In your small frame, I found a child. So proud to flaunt your red-painted nails, It was always your favourite colour. You drew the bed sheets down To expose your barren legs and oversized diaper, So proud to show me “how skinny” you were getting. I wept inside for your degenerating body. On the outside, I smiled and said "you are beautiful". I swallowed heavily as I kissed your cheek and said goodbye. Took what might be my final glance At your weathered face that was once so full with joy. I love you. I hated myself for leaving you all alone in that desolate room.   I wished my presence could provide you with comfort, But I knew I couldn’t. Fall was fleeting, Snowflakes were falling, And you didn’t know me anyways.
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Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
Room 365
Nanny, Saying goodbye was the hardest thing I have ever done. As I tread along the barren corridor that night, I passed the poorest of souls. Those whose frenzied hands moved without purpose, Muttering incomprehensible sounds from their shrunken lips, As they stared absently at the walls, never truly seeing. With a clenched jaw, I had to divert my gaze, Wondering who these people were Before their lives were stolen by Time, The unquenchable monster slowly sipping at their youth. A loving mother, brother, daughter, husband, sister? Their stories I will never know. I wondered if you would remember yours… 365 The sign on the door read Christina Cook, Written hastily on the old whiteboard, Stained black with the names of those who resided here before. I will never forget the unbearable sorrow I felt as I entered your room. Nanny, you used to tell me aging was a natural process, Like the changing autumn leaves. But you forgot to tell me that after that beautiful, Final blaze of glory, They fall. Littering the ground in their fading shades of brown, Disintegrating into powder. Spread by the wind as ashes. I held your hand, and felt the leathery skin That bound your delicate bones. But, it wasn’t you. Gone was the strong woman, Mother of 8, grandmother of 19 In your small frame, I found a child. So proud to flaunt your red-painted nails, It was always your favourite colour. You drew the bed sheets down To expose your barren legs and oversized diaper, So proud to show me “how skinny” you were getting. I wept inside for your degenerating body. On the outside, I smiled and said "you are beautiful". I swallowed heavily as I kissed your cheek and said goodbye. Took what might be my final glance At your weathered face that was once so full with joy. I love you. I hated myself for leaving you all alone in that desolate room.   I wished my presence could provide you with comfort, But I knew I couldn’t. Fall was fleeting, Snowflakes were falling, And you didn’t know me anyways.
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49
“Good afternoon” Light kisses on the cheek Walk gracefully to your seat Cross your legs at the ankles                     Never the knees! “May I have a cup of tea, please?” A porcelain teapot pours With grace, three quarters full And, as not to cross the paths of love                     Milk is always last A silver spoon in glistening pride An inverted reflection Of your well-bred smile Stir, ever so carefully, from 6 to 12                        Never ***** the sides! Take a sip, looking into, never over The cup. Laugh, smile, and converse Indulge in a skon (not scone) With clotted cream and raspberry jam                          Always parted in two As you say your farewells, praise yourself You have made Queen Catherine proud With your lady-like poise and elegant charm At afternoon tea
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Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
The Tea Party
On summer days when rays of youth suntanned My ivory skin, I sat upon the swing With little pink toes dangling in the sand Fingers curled around the rusted chains Calloused hands push firmly on my back Propelled me higher into the blue sky Naively I thought these days would never die But now the summer leaves hang lifelessly From fading trees, fall slowly to the ground A quiet dignity in their decline And now you sit upon the swing. I push You down florescent halls, but still you smile As we reminisce about the summer sun In memories our happiness is found
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Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
Swinging
Secluded within my quilted cocoon A mess of white bed sheets - embrace me tight! Forlorn, humming gloomily to the tune Of silence in the solitude of night Oh, how I love to sleep, to dream of light And monarch wings and fruitful dahlia blooms Sweet nectar of utopia’s delight Where melodies of silken harps do croon But flightless I must nest within this tomb My heavy heart a hindrance to free flight Curled up within this embryotic womb For release, to God my prayers I do recite
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Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 9:36 PM UTC
A Dream of Metamorphosis