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I do not miss you in moments,
But rather the lingering space that lies in between them:
The soft "nn" sound preceding "one mississippi"
Falls stagnant as I attempt to count out measurements of my grief.
Your presence is too large to be condensed into the language of time,
Hours and minutes limply droop over each other,
Until nothing is certain besides your existence.
Two mississippi, three mississippi,
I slowly drag out the syllables in a subtle defiance to your untimely exit.
Your time isn't yet over, I've kept you alive,
Pushing air into your crumpled lungs by counting sheep.
The moments in which you fell are recycled here,
Like stale air in a small cement cell,
They propel my time forward the same way they stopped yours.
I do not miss you during desperate sentences full of almost there prose,
But instead during the white space that runs between each line.

Four mississippi, five mississippi.
I feel the pain..
When i put me in her..
The pain and anger..
Faced when in danger..
I feel sorry for this filthy government
Who sleeps..
When all her weeps...
I hope i could have done something
But nothing can change only a think..
I feel distressed when i think of her
Only 23 and gone forever..
When i put me in her..
I think of all the dreams she lost..
We say.. rapists should be hanged to death..
But what about her plannings..
That turned no where..
She is gone..  with tons of remorse
We can do all is fight for her justice
Maybe she was the chosen one
Whom god wanted to show all of them
That animals still exist on earth..
And some human take in as their birth..
With her last words..
She wanted to live..wanted to marry
Wanted to get what everyone merry..
But we just feel sorry..
Because its the part of our being the her
Please people stop discrimination
Its our nation
one for everyone...
Tribute to Damini..23 year old girl who passed away due to gang ****.. :(
I don't know..
What have i done without it..
No light.. no colours..
Things i see..
Would have been like rumors..
Although small..
But part of my beauty..
Is all black..
But shows all colourful..
Yes it is..
My two round eyes  ..

I don't know..
What have i done without it..
If you get lost...
Il be full of remorse..
You let me call..
All my pal..
I love to touch..
Coz you are such..
Yes it is..
My cell phone ..

I don't know ..
What have i done without it..
You got me able to live things..
You take me to the world of success..
You give me opportunities
And people's praise sometimes..
You are something
I could never abdicate..
Yes it is..
My lucky pen ..

I don't know..
What have i done without it.
Of all the things i mentioned
Your the one who gets me most addicted
And which i can never abstain
Something which is not dalliance
And will lst forever
Coz only the aroma of yours
Is paragon for me
Yes it is
My mug full of *coffee
For the things i love  :D
 Jan 2013 Michael W Noland
-D
-prologue.-
I've been wearing a weatherproof coat
for what feels like
1,000 years,
& if only I could know
the rain & the snow,
& how a storm in the evening feels...


-1-
a test, a test, a time to--
learn how to breathe (again) to
trust the wind to
exist in the dark-

(the boulder crushes,
crumblecrumble
a wave crashes
in&out;)

wake up--
open your eyes &
there's more to life &
there's more to life than happiness sometimes-

(the clouds in fast forward,
crackcrack
a thunder clap
boom&roar;)

-2-
come back inside
my mother ordered, as the wind began to howl
it's getting late,
& I would hate
for you to be caught in a storm.


let me sit beneath the aspen tree,
let me feel what it's like to be struck by lightning,
for it's better to be hurt & reminded that i'm alive
than to be safe&bored;&lonely;
inside.


-3-
there's pain & there's anger,
long roads & u-turns abound.
A time for what was never expected
& a time to be left unfound.

because darkness exists for a reason,
if only to push us to crave the light
there is beauty in brokenness, glory in downpours,
& falling feels good sometimes.

-epilogue.-
(eventually, the tempest subsides,
breatheinbreatheout
& the gale becomes a comforting whisper
remember&res;;).
b: mother

i: Father & me.
 Jan 2013 Michael W Noland
Sappho
Sleep, darling
I have a small
daughter called
Cleis, who is

like a golden
flower
I wouldn't
take all Croesus'
kingdom with love
thrown in, for her

---

Don't ask me what to wear
I have no embroidered
headband from Sardis to
give you, Cleis, such as
I wore
and my mother
always said that in her
day a purple ribbon
looped in the hair was thought
to be high style indeed

but we were dark:
a girl
whose hair is yellower than
torchlight should wear no
headdress but fresh flowers
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