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 Oct 2013 Jenna B
Sasha Renfro
I wish sometimes that I could read your mind,
pull out your thoughts and spread them on my floor,
a huge puzzle with pieces of all the same color,
make your lips speak what you're avoiding,
dig up the clay feelings you harbor,
sort them into categories.
Just to know where I stand with you.
 Oct 2013 Jenna B
Nancy
I want to be able to have my words flow from my brain to the paper,
to have the pencil write freely. Running along side the lines,
creating worlds of the unexplained,
but for now I will have to settle for mediocre.
But one day, while I am engulfed in my ocean of thoughts
I will make a masterpiece.
Something that will be in books,
that people study from centuries from now.
They will question:
What is the theme of this poem?
How is this accomplished?
Theses students will deconstruct the poem,
to only find there is not meaning.
My vulnerable poem will lay there hanging,
with its blood spilled around.
Gasping for air, to tell them that they misunderstood.
Then it will dawn on them...
The poem was only meant to be enjoyed.
But it will be to late.
It will no longer hold the wonder it once held.
 Oct 2013 Jenna B
Windjah
Untitled
 Oct 2013 Jenna B
Windjah
The whole world grieved. Many fled, but only for so long until they realized that the Earth is round and they had nowhere to go. Some sought to fulfill their miserable lives in the remaining hours, while some emptied their pill bottles. Everyone prayed, but no one denied the inevitable extinction of life. They wept into the hair of their children, mourned for themselves, and drank into fantastical delirion. They drained their planet of its mystery, wrung out every last droplet of predilection, and savored every expectation. They demanded to be heard; “I am IMPORTANT!” they raged from their crumbling rooftops. Even the ghosts cried out, “Save us!” But they hit the sun anyway, and the rest of the universe didn’t even quiver.
 Oct 2013 Jenna B
Kathryn Joy
Are we informed or are we scared?
More aware or less prepared
To contemplate a world that's filled with good?

Are we a headline soon-to-be?
But warped and pushed into a sieve
So they can own the death that's understood?

They bottle apprehension
And the drunks don't taste the *****
Hate and violence sell themselves
And we all buy the news
I am not perfect. I make mistakes.

I am genuine and forgiving.
I wonder what God thinks of us as people.
I hear the sound of my sister singing to sold out crowds.
I see the glass as always half full.
I want to make a difference in someone’s life.
I am genuine and forgiving.

I pretend that I am stronger than I actually am.
I feel my heart swelling with regret.
I touch the memories I try to close out.
I worry about the soldiers fighting for our freedom while we lay at home in our warm beds.
I cry that moments in time are gone forever.
I am genuine and forgiving.

I understand that life doesn’t last forever.
I say that I am working to achieve a better future.
I dream about war, peace, and love.
I try to make people smile when they’re having a bad day.
I hope one day for a cure for diabetes.
I am genuine and forgiving.
 Oct 2013 Jenna B
AJ
Aaaaah
 Oct 2013 Jenna B
AJ
I was going to write this poem
On anxieties and procrastination.
But then I decided to write it later.
But that really freaked me out.
So here it is.
 Oct 2013 Jenna B
Emoni Jenkins
She was broken
A little girl left wishing and hoping that her daddy would come back
That he would sweep down and save her
‘Cause see she was under attack
And as she lie there on her back
She could not help but wonder what her father would say if he ever found her like that
Milk and honey thighs spread on cue
She knew what to do
He kissed her
Scruffy strands of the man he would someday be brushed her cheek
Sweaty hands awkwardly fumbled around inside her blouse
His mouth, ****** the insecurities and doubts from her body
And though these naughty indiscretions would not be something they mentioned in the day light
The moon light of that night cleared her sight enough for her to see that he would be the one to fix her
His seed would work as her elixir of life
And free her from the years of loneliness her father had left her with
And with one last kiss
He entered her
And in doing so
He unknowingly planted the seed that would grow into the girl that would want to call him daddy
And it’s really a shame that it had to happen this way
Because when his 13 year old girlfriend to him she was pregnant
He had nothing to say
And It was that fear that drove him away
She was broken
Now stuck wishing and hoping for a man to be a father to her daughter
Working two jobs so she could provide for her
She daughter grew up before the eyes of strangers
And the danger in that didn’t really show until she was about 13
A young queen in her mother’s eyes
So she easily got away with the lies it took to get her out at night
And her young mind didn’t know love
So she used her body to find Mr. Right
The one that could mend the hole in her heart
Fix her
Be her elixir
Take away the pain she felt inside
You see, her daughter was broken
 Oct 2013 Jenna B
Gwen Johnson
I like to forgive and forget
but if I forgive I can't forget
'Cause something still lingers
Because by forgiving
I let you back in
So forgive me for not forgiving you
But don't hold on to this forgiveness
Because I'll be forgetting you
 Oct 2013 Jenna B
Kagami
Falling back, retreating.
I am not a good soldier.

I am a broken soul, and it shows.
But, even so, someone told me that I
Was stronger than I thought I was.

All I could ask myself was,

*"Then why did I do it?"
Connor, this is for you.
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