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A poem is a thought-
A thought that becomes an insight-
An insight that becomes an art-
An art that is cherished.

A poem is a lasting value-
A value recognized by its author-
An author who had an experience-
An experience that needed to be shared.

A poem is attractive to thinkers-
Thinkers seeking stimulation-
Stimulation of the intellect
And stimulation of soul.

A poem is the method-
The method of communication
Used to communicate desires-
The desires of the heart.

A poem is the product-
The product of a passion-
A passion rooted in love-
A love that sparked a thought.
Cassidy Claire Johnson © 2011.
In the shadows of the dark all hopes were lost.
Toiling, crawling, struggling and suffering.
where am i and what is happening?
You this days so cruel and wicked.
What do i owe you to be treated this way?
Oh! complains; these are complains.
Will they do me any good?
Alas these questions i no not their answers.
Yet treating me the same way
I have decided to remain focused and determined.
To toil and struggle believing that one day it will be
A BETTER DAY.
 Dec 2012 J Christmas
Molly Brier
If i pull the spiders from inside
(some still live, most have died)
would the torture of their crawling
always still be calling, calling.

If i pull the poison from my vein
dilute with a less toxic strain
would i still be slowly dying
always again, crying, crying

If i could cause them to depart
the blades that dive into my heart
could i change or break the law
(the palm or the fist!) The claw! The claw!

If through my life had not paraded
things to leave me cold and jaded
would i still know something of
the joy it is, to love, to love!
Seeing we never found gay fairyland
(Though still we crouched by bluebells moon by moon)
And missed the tide of Lethe; yet are soon
For that new bridge that leaves old Styx half-spanned;
Nor ever unto Mecca caravanned;
Nor bugled Asgard, skilled in magic rune;
Nor yearned for far Nirvana, the sweet swoon,
And from high Paradise are cursed and banned;

-Let's die home, ferry across the Channel! Thus
Shall we live gods there. Death shall be no sev'rance.
Weary cathedrals light new shrines for us.
To us, rough knees of boys shall ache with rev'rence.
Are not girls' ******* a clear, strong Acropole?
-There our oun mothers' tears shall heal us whole
(C) Wilfred Owen
das helle Licht,
der nahe Sommer
die zarte Fröhlichkeit
blühender ******
das schmeichelnde Lächeln
meiner Wut
die monotone Stille,
der Sehnsucht Glut

zu dir
ich liege
ich stocke
ich stolpere
du sehnst
du redest
du willst
zu mir


das helle Sein,
meiner vollen Seele
deine nahe Stimme
deine Gedanken und Pläne
durch das verstaubte Fenster
hellgrüne, verwirrte Blätter ranken
Licht fällt gebrochen auf meine Hand
du bist so fern, ich sehe dich nicht
wie Gedanken versanken
auf Blättern auf Wiesen
in Wörtern und Träumen

was für ein schlimmes Gedicht
You always said it was better to burn out than fade away, like Jimi Hendrix and Bill Hicks. A rock star with no guitar, but now your in
the Sky with Diamonds singing Glass Onion and Penny Lane with Lennon and Kurt Cobain.

Come together, join in Janis, another verse Across the Universe
or Let It Be Morrison that sings this song and one Day Tripper ill
Come Along and open that door....... When Im Sixty Four.
A tribute to my friend...
falling
lost
forsaken
Where am I going?
This tunnel is not ending...
Why did I come here?
Tide is turning,
dawn is breaking,
I can feel the sand between my toes
it is beautiful and breathtaking
the world is falling away
strawberry lingers on my tongue
her hand is reaching out to me
i will go where you lead
spiraling downwards
back and forth between what is real
and what is a dream.
typing words but not seeing
ever it goes on, like time
what is at it's heart?
it lies on the floor there
cold and unable to see the end
never ending fall, the world
it passes away beneath me
willingly
effortlessley
spun out on the blades of a pinwheel
what does that mean?
suddenly it all seems clear
a bright new day stands before me
i take a deep breath
i feel the air flow into me
as the water to the sea.
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