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She's the gift
That every birthday
Has been leading up to.
 Sep 2016 Lost Poet
Stephan


Sending chills this tortured spine,
as aches precede the worded fiction
Sorted truth does rest sublime
beneath the light of benediction
Broken dreams of compass flair,
directions cast a blinded waning
Trusted roots abridge the square
of all that’s lost and is remaining

Washed along this fertile beach
of sanded hope and history
Tasting o’ thy patterned speech
as common phrases come to me
Desolate my cornered mind
of images I pray be true
Dangling the lost to find
retaliation in my view

Pray, oh be, as life does rattle
chains of only mist to turn
Laughter like some long fought battle,
in amongst we tend to learn
When the calling comes so random,
names are lost on open seas
One by one in columned tandem,
drenched of hell’s insanities

Take me to thy deepest haven,
so that I may find the end
Black as night o’ windswept raven,
come to me now once again
Razored claw and broken arrows,
filled with such, the violence
Playing through the endless narrows,
falling to my own expense

This, a life that's not worth living,
not this day, not anymore
Breaths so tethered in their giving,
pull the drapes and close the door
Take a seat your exits' waiting,
frozen hinges squeak in time
Find the map for navigating,
somehow through this wicked rhyme

Follow me, I know the heading,
down this staircase, up the hall
End those futile tears you're shedding,
she's not waiting for your call
Through this doorway stenciled broken,
toss your heart there on the floor
It is but a useless token,
you'll not need it anymore

You’re now privy to the meaning,
whether you do understand
Motioned light, this night is leaning,
let it take you by the hand
Now of time and missing portal,
through the lens of sights unknown
Nothing whispers you are mortal,
for this day you have been shown
 Sep 2016 Lost Poet
Stephan
Normally
 Sep 2016 Lost Poet
Stephan
.

Normally the sunrise
comes to start a wondrous day
So tell me why this morning
I just want to run away
 Sep 2016 Lost Poet
lilpoiein
My night ends late
And my morning starts late

*Nocturnal late bloomer
 Sep 2016 Lost Poet
Francie Lynch
Where will I sit?
Will I make friends?
Do I look okay
On my first day?
Do you think
I'll do alright?
Is it like learning
To ride my bike?

     *Congrats, my child,
     You're doing fine,
     You've just learned
     The first day's rules.
     The fears, anxieties
     And self-doubts,
     Are life's hard lessons
     We could do without.
     There's no teacher
     Or book of stories
     To allay your ever-present worries.
     The stress now filling up your head,
     Is with you til the very end.


*But I want to stay home!
 Sep 2016 Lost Poet
gray rain
Holiday homework
Is like living a dream
Or a nightmare
It depends what kind you mean.

I had the time to do it
5 weeks to be precise
But I just couldn't be bothered
So I'll do it on the last night.

As I start the reading the instructions
And realize there's no cheat way
I put my pen to paper
And realize its going to be a long day.

And others have another week
But my school starts earlier than the rest
And my pen ran out already
This day is just the best.
Last minute homework before I start year 11 tommorow. I'm not looking forward to being back at school.
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