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Lily Feb 2020
She never failed to mesmerize,
The poetry girl
With the rich maple eyes.

Her jungle of hair flourished on her head,
Contained by a green scrunchie
While the bangs on her forehead were spread.

A bite of the nails, a twist of the hair,
A brush of the bangs,
And her voice echoed like a call to prayer.

She goes to IHOP every weekend, knows the menu by heart,
Lives on pancakes and unlimited coffee,
Although she has been known to dabble with egg tarts.

She pulled her knees up to her chest,
Two Crocs, one green, one white,
Her gaze as stalwart as a tree in a forest.

When she spoke, her thoughts came out like trails of smoke,
Littering the room with her personality,
Those scraps of beauty as powerful as a thunderstroke.

She never failed to mesmerize,
The poetry girl
With the rich maple eyes.
Lily Jun 2018
Mom, I’m not addicted to my phone.
I simply need that connection I have with
My friends, the ones who I don’t get to talk to
Often, that have all but disappeared from
My life, but I can still see them on the screen.
Mom, I’m not addicted to my phone.
I like to read stories and poems,
Browse the Internet’s fanfiction,
Write my own works, and receive feedback
From friends and critics alike.
Mom, I’m not addicted to my phone.
I just worry about the people I care about,
Wanting to know where they are
And what they are doing;
Not unlike the protective nature you have with me.
Mom, I’m not addicted to my phone.
Sometimes, I just need to check the time.
Written with the help of my nine year old cousin, Natalie.
Lily Aug 2018
We splashed in the pool
Together, the kiddy one
That is now too small.

She huddled in the
Car with me when I was scared
Of the thunderstorm.

She helped me sneak through
Her house at midnight and showed
Me her ice cream stash.

Sneaking grins across
The church on Sunday morning;
Well, we still do that.

She helped show me that
The world doesn't have to be
All work and no play.

Her liveliness and
Generosity show me
True, pure happiness.

I know we're growing
Up, but I hope she will al-
ways be my best friend.
Lily Mar 2018
Slithering through the darkness,
Always there,
Always waiting,
Never leaving.
I feel it like an ever-present headache,
A sensation that won't go away
No matter how hard I try.
The uncomfortable sensation follows me
Everywhere.
Hanging out with friends, working by myself,
Eating, reading, even sleeping it is there.
My dreams are troubled, my imaginations
Disturbing and unsettling.
I can't control the constant gnawing,
Clawing, grasping at my flesh,
Trying to find a purchase,
Trying to become a permanent part of me.
What it doesn't know is that it already
Possesses me, completely dominating
My soul, my mind, and my heart.
Everyone has a demon.
What is yours?
Lily Apr 2019
My prayer this Easter
Is for you to experience
The true and everlasting joy
That being a child of God brings you.
I want you to fully understand
His love and compassion for you,
And I want you to believe
That He died and
Rose from the grave
To give you eternal life in heaven with Him.
Hallelujah!
Happy Easter everyone! <3
Lily Apr 2018
My first love
Came to me at a young age.
I was lost, and inexperienced
In the ways of the world.

My first love
Came to me when I was
Lacking the things I needed,
And all of a sudden I was provided for.

My first love
Came to me powerfully.
I felt complete and whole;
With him I was content.

My first love
Gave me a warm feeling
In the pit of my stomach,
Similar to butterflies.

My first love
That will always preside all others,
That nobody will ever replace, is
FOOD.
Lily Feb 2019
My first love
Came to me at a young age.
I was lost, and inexperienced
In the ways of the world.

My first love
Came to me when I was
Lacking the things I needed,
And all of a sudden I was provided for.

My first love
Came to me powerfully.
I felt complete and whole;
With him I was content.

My first love
Gave me a war feeling
In the pit of my stomach,
Similar to butterflies.

My first love
That will always preside all others,
That nobody will ever replace, is
FOOD.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Lily Mar 2019
He hurriedly glanced at his wristwatch again,
The shadow of the cross from the steeple
Landing in the middle of the watch.
A sigh echoed through the church courtyard,
And a few rats scurried out of their hide-aways.
They should be here by now.
The moon hung in the sky,
Trying and failing to shed light on what was below.
The harsh noise of a truck on gravel reached his ears,
And he breathed a sigh of relief.
The newcomer parked the truck and lumbered out,
Holding several filthy beer bottles in his large, grimy hands.
“Here you go.”
His voice was gruff, calloused even, as if it was being
Grated like cheese.
Money from the priest’s hands went into the driver’s hands,
And when the priest looked into his eyes,
They spoke legends of ******.
The truck drove away, and
Pretty soon the courtyard was silent again,
Except for the hoot of an owl,
The contented sigh of the priest, and the
Pop of a beer bottle being opened.
My prompt was "my priest drinks too much". Thoughts are welcome! :)
Lily Apr 2018
“I love you,” you say,
But I hear,
“I’m just lusting after you.”
“I need you,” you say,
But I hear,
“I'm just keeping you around
Until someone else better comes.”
“You're beautiful,” you say,
But I hear,
“You're fake, you're nothing
Underneath all that makeup.”
“You're talented,” you say.
But I hear,
“I'm just trying to humor you
And make you feel better about yourself.”
No matter what you say,
Or how you say it,
I refuse to believe that I mean
Something to somebody.
I've been hurt too many times,
Been told I'm ugly,
Stupid,
Crazy,
Depressed.
All life has told me is that I'm
Worthless,
And I will never deserve anyone.
I'm sorry.
I'm just never enough.
Lily Sep 2019
Bring the buried flower,
Bring the burned out candle.
Bring the closed notebook,
Bring the ended hour.
Dig up the flower,
Strike the match,
Open the notebook,
Begin a new hour.
Bring the writing you’re afraid of
And regenerate it, and
Make it speak.
Scatter your poems left and right,
Because the world can’t wait to hear
Your words.
Inspired by Robert Frost’s "To the Thawing Wind"
Lily Apr 2018
I’m strapped to a table,
An old, wooden table, where
I can feel the peeling wood digging
Into my back, causing me tangible pain.
The ropes wrap around my whole body,
Constricting my chest and cutting into my arms,
Making it almost impossible to move or even breathe.
I hear a long low buzz, almost imperceptible.
After a short pause, it starts again, louder.
I can’t find its source, as the space I’m in is
Pitch black, an enveloping, smothering darkness
That almost suffocates me in its desire to conceal.
The buzz comes again, louder still, and I feel a
Pounding in my head, as the sound waves travel through
My brain, disturbing it, sending wave after wave of pain.
A sort of sadness seeps through me with each wave, and
Soon I begin to see shapes and shadows, forming a
Realistic picture in my mind’s eye.
Every bad, sad, disgusting, angry, intolerable memory
That I possess is being relieved, with each buzz,
Another memory, another sadness, another heartbreak.
Before long, the buzz hacks into my future thoughts,
Showing me the worst possible outcomes to future situations.
Death.  Destruction.  Chaos.  Evil.  Heartbreak.  Discord.
I squirm on the table, trying in vain to escape,
The ropes wrapping tighter around me, as if they know,
As if they know I’m struggling, that with every memory wave
I’m losing more and more of myself, more and more
Of my good memories as the buzz increases in magnitude.
My mind is imploding, the torment is so great, I feel like
I won’t survive another wave.  That’s when the soft
Laugh comes at me from the shadows.
A cool breeze blows across my right ear, and a
Whisper of a chuckle reaches me, immobilizing me,
Making me stay still in pure and utter terror.
A cold, calculating shiver runs down my spine, and I realize
There is no escape from the confines of my mind.
Lily Apr 2018
I’ve become so good at
Pretending to be okay,
I don’t even remember what
It feels like to let it all go.  
I don’t remember letting my friends see my anxiety,
Breaking down in front of somebody,
Smiling a genuine smile.  
I don’t remember showing any emotion besides okay,
Fine, normal.  
I remain the definition of average,
Blending in so well I don’t even think about it.  
Sometimes I want to just stop.  
Just stop all of the pretending and let myself feel.  
But I can do it.  
I can do whatever I need to do
In order to keep things normal.  
And that’s the scariest thing of all.
Lily Apr 2018
9:30 pm
You texted me you loved me,
That you’d never leave me,
And I answered back
With the same.

10:30 pm
I sent a you a cute picture,
Of two cats cuddling,
And I said it was us.
No answer.

11:30 pm
I sent you an inside joke,
Hoping you would look at your phone
And laugh and smile your amazing smile.
No answer.

12:30 am
I found myself in the shower,
Fighting an anxiety attack,
Maybe I’m stupid to worry, but there was
No answer.

1:30 am
I told you I was going to bed,
That I was going to try to sleep.
Even to my good night text, there was
No answer.

4:30 am
I’m still awake, I can’t sleep,
Wondering where you are, if something’s wrong.
I know I shouldn’t worry, but there was
No answer.

9:30 am
No good morning text from you,
So I send you one instead,
Hoping you will respond and there won’t be
No answer.

11:30 am
Still no answer, my frazzled mind thinking
You’re in the hospital somewhere,
And that I heard your last words a long time ago, because
There was no text.
Lily May 2018
Concern, not worry,
There was fear, but not panic,
Feeling, but not love.
My first attempt at a haiku!
Lily Jul 2018
I think of you whenever
I pass a donut shop.
I see you making coffee
And hovering over the dozen,
Making a game out of picking a donut.
I think of you whenever
I put up Christmas lights.
I see you in front of the church,
Stringing lights on the cross with
The agility of someone half your age.
I think of you whenever
I sit in Bible class.
I see you with your legs
Sprawled out on the pew,
Asking great questions and
Leading thoughtful discussions.
I think of you whenever
I see your grandchildren
Running around in the sun,
Enjoying the life that you gave them.
I think of you whenever
I think of heaven, and I know
That’s where you are, having
Coffee and donuts up in heaven
With your Maker.
Hallelujah!
Written in memory of my friend Pat, who recently suffered a fatal heart attack.
Lily Jun 2018
Spilled ink.
Old film.
Crumpled paper.
The click of a shutter.
Pens dying.
Wiping lenses.
Flashlights under the covers.
Struggling with a tripod.
Daydreaming.
The Rule of Thirds.
Tattered pages.
Beautiful sunsets.
Coffee shops.
Skittish animals.
3 am.
Cropping.
Always thinking.
The horizon line.
The frantic search for pen and paper.
Frustrated with trying to capture the beauty of the world In a small package.
HP won't let me change the words, but the "poet" things are supposed to be bolded, and the "photographer" things are italicized.  The final line is italicized and bolded.
Lily Mar 2018
“But what about all the things you told me?”
He asked her, quietly, his voice a faint, timid whisper,
More afraid of the answer than the question.
She stares motionless, not trusting her voice,
Knowing it will betray her... like before.
“You said you’d stay with me forever.”
A single tear rolled down her cheek,
As silent as the stars above, yet as loud as a rushing waterfall.
“You said we’d have a family together, a home.”
She was forced to sit down on the plush loveseat,
An ironic backdrop to the turmoil that was slowly unfolding.
“You said I was your one and only.”
She notices the trembling in his voice,
The soft, quivering whimper, much like a puppy,
That betrays he is close to tears.
“Your forever and always.”
She can hardly hear him, so she leans in closer,
Gazing into his watery eyes, swimming with honest tears.
“You said you had written my name on your heart.”
Mustering her strength, courage, and will, she responds:
“Only in pencil.”
Lily Aug 2019
These dark days
Are beautiful as
The bare, withered tree.
The birds are gone,
But the gray is silver.
I have not yesterday,
But I learned the love
Of the beauties of today.
Inspired by Robert Frost's "My November Guest"
Lily Dec 2018
On the court
History is made
Around the world.
On the court,
You can see how
People show their
Emotions.
On the court,
The impossible
Becomes possible.
On the court
Is our home
Away from
Home.
My 9 year old brother Simeon wrote this, and wanted me to share it with you guys.  He is in love with all things basketball. :)
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