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 Nov 2013 JenaMarie
Bellie-boo
Beep-beep.
Beep.
Bee-bee.
Water splashes as it bubbles over,
steam rushes out from under the ***'s lid,
Tender pasta arcks out into a strainer from the waterfall of boiling water.
The aroma of fresh cut vegtibles pollutes the air,
Herbs and spice fill the *** as cream fills the gaps between pasta,
Chese coats the top.

Children make a muck  in the garden's grass,
Caked with soil they tromp  past the hall,
So much bleach will be needed tomorrow.

Smooth jazz comes from the apple shaped speakers in the kitchen
A spiral of spices flit through the air.

All sit,
The sun setting low,
Lights luminate our table's  surface,
puppy licks at your toe,
The food passes round,
And there's a happy glow.
Stumbled in
mind & soul
I had no idea
that night would
would lead
to shattered scene**

#micropoetry
 Nov 2013 JenaMarie
Bellie-boo
Flawless emotins strung,
By line they flow,
The  space and gaps,
the criss and cross,
The melodies that intertwine us.

Charted lines that hold us together,
bound by a signeture,
yet the key dose not hold firm.

Apologies trickel off your tounge,
Affetuoso they fill me,
Trpilets spill over cause you know they will  get me,
Sorry con calore,
Sorry is the Da capo of our life.

ll:Repeat:ll we start again,
With the same clashiny cords they tear us apart,
Con Fuoco,
Our anger no longer restraned by margines,
They run rampant without rhyme across an unstaffed page.

Staccatoed our notes became,
that one flowed effortesly between us is now rigid and cold,
Divisi we became two beings,
no longer one.


Somehow I cannot stop wishing to play for you,
As you lull me I forget the world,
Tremolo rattels my core,
Your music courses through me,
Carving the melody,
I subciunsously create its counter melody.

A Tempo takes over our lifes,
as we fall into our normal lovey ways,
all forgetten,
Nothing left to say except,
I love you
Fine
 Nov 2013 JenaMarie
Ottar
Escapism
 Nov 2013 JenaMarie
Ottar
into a write,
into reading a story,
imagine,
              a place,
                           a time,
oh some time would be nice,
if the place was as vacant as my stare,
imagine me there,
penning poetry,
                          rocking in a hammock with palm leaves over me and crystal blue water see,
cotton ball puff clouds,
.
.
.
sorry got to go, grand daughter is crying,
                                    my beauty is trying to paint,
and the dog is dancing back forth needing go out.

Help me, to escape...ism if you can.


©DWE112013
 Nov 2013 JenaMarie
Shari Forman
I feel important at times,
But I mostly feel worthless and unimportant.
People may say I am worth a lot,
But it's false.
I used to be important,
But now I'm torn apart.
I've been exploited enough to last a lifetime.
My friends are always busy or barely get together with me outside of school,
And I feel studying and school work is all that there is to life now that tennis season is over.
I just want to go to college already,
To get away from a hard life I have always had.
Stay up with me all night
Fighting
Tell me how you really feel
And **** me
We can go back and forth
Until the tears flow freely
It's what were both used to
A relationship filled with more tears
Than smiles,
More fights
Than "I love you"s
Lets take low blows, insult me
Because it's better than wondering
If there's anything left of me for you
To love.
 Nov 2013 JenaMarie
Anna2000
First month, first seat change. we were on opposite sides, no interaction. I relish this, i am not a
BOLD or EXTROVERTED person
some might say I am shy or introverted
now that the time has come, I am not ready to change seats,
to take the chance of sitting closer, forced interaction,
I am nervous,
but am calmed with the thought that chances are, we'll be seated even farther apart,
I was wrong.
our elbows will brush, our knees will touch, our gazes will meet.
I hear the words coming out of the teachers mouth,
but  am stunned into silence ,
my whole being shaken,
our names are called,
our seats given.
To some, this may seem silly, immature, an overreaction.
For them, this may be true, in this situation calm, collected, thinking: this is no big deal.
But with dread curdling in your stomach as you snap to,
stumbling to your seat,
this is an earthquake shaking the earth, a volcano spitting ashes,
a panic attack waiting to happen.
and it pounces.
seated, trying not to squirm, to shake, to ****;
wondering what he's thinking, trying not to stare.
he thinks you don't see,
the glances he shoots the short foot between you,
thinks your engrossed in the teacher, the clock, the pencil
any thing but him.
But your any thing but engrossed, you see every shake, gaze,
fell every brush of the hand.
Finally, this long hour is over, the mixture of excitement and torture has come to an end.
As is to be expected, on your way still in has gaze, you trip, you stumble, your face cherry red;
embarrassed, but thankful,
that he doesn't have a class with an even more abundant chance of embarrassment.
over the day,
you forget the way he gazes,
his shy way
different from the others,
the way he's taller,
in a way that makes you feel safe, flushed, happy, even if their is no chance of him being yours.
But then lunch comes,
you sit down,
ready to devour food that can only fill your stomach, not your soul as much as you wish it would, or
could;
but looking across,
you spot him, watching you,
his gaze surpassing the walls of people, as much as a shy person wouldn't like,
is it coincidence that he found the one gap with a view of me?
is he staring at me?
what to do?
with all this questing running your mind,
your appetite flee's,
and so do I,
to my safe haven within the books.
tomorrow, the nervousness has subsided, its over, your over, its done.
but then, on the way to first period,
our paths cross,
glances exchanged,
blushes made.
You know that this is not over, not done,
the time has come for class to begin.
I've tried to forget, to overcome this nervousness, but I've been defeated,
ground to a fine powder of nerves by a crush.
our knees bounce in anticipation,
our pencils tap,
our feet twitch.
time to share the book,
the dreaded closeness.
Finally it happens,
the brush of the elbows.
we both feel it,
the sparks that glow blue,
the cheeks that grow red.
we have been given a gift, a chance,
to overcome shyness,
to create something wonderful.
but to take that chance, to accept this gift means time, courage.
and every day until then,
this tension will be relieved
and i will be a nervous wreck.
We started on opposite sides,
but fate pulled us together, forced a chance.
now we sit close, still tense, still wired,
but strangely happy,
exhilarated,
alive.
to this day, he still sits in the gap :)

— The End —