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 Nov 2019 Ann Beaver
life's jump
pulse throbbing
clinched fist
size of the yard
when i came to

covered by gray skies
sheltering us from the light
for now protected
wasting away here
precious resources now gone
currency is spent
 Dec 2018 Ann Beaver
Taryn Pope
The door is taped up
To hold all the pieces together
So little light comes in now

Glass shatters at the temptation of hope
A single fragment slices
Never cutting deep enough

A little girl, afraid of her father
Her daughter, afraid of her father
Her mother, afraid of her

The door is taped up
To hold all the pieces together
So little light comes in now

There are no more broken pieces to make their mark
But no one can see in now
And we all cannot see out

Shouts echo in my own ears
Manifesting screams I had all along
A suicide song year after year

Her mouth is taped up
To hold all these pieces together
So little light comes in now
 Aug 2018 Ann Beaver
In brief: scalpel words so cheap
Misanthropic cold compress
Jaded and hard in denial
Heavely Medicated without

Mute Pain
Guilt soaked peace
Once more
At least
On this rock
I’ve built my church
And drunk of this poisoned cup

Salted sigh the spike
Do not resuscitate
For the bones of it
Are a pistol cool pressed
To a temple

Sleep without rest
Please, one more breath
Vein or scar
Blood loss
And the cost:
The cracks and lines from where you gave up, they make an easy man to read
 Aug 2018 Ann Beaver
Taryn Pope
I swear to you
There are parts of me
Still vibrant
That want to see
To feel everything
Carefree and jubilant
Parts of me singing
At the top of their lungs
That song we wrote together

Whether I am lacking luster
I have gone dull
Collected dust on this shelf
There are parts
That will never forget
The feel of your skin
Dancing in the moonlight
Your hand in mine
Parts of me
That are still vibrant
 Jun 2018 Ann Beaver
Taryn Pope
There are small parts
Of me
Of you
Wasting away
No longer in bloom
A constant swaying
A goodbye all too soon
Tired of holding on
Day after day
Torn apart
Shattered & blue
Little parts
Of me
& of you
 Jun 2018 Ann Beaver
Taryn Pope
Ashes from an old flame
Two pens etch in stone
A poem with two names
Send me back home

Used to be
Once was
No longer

A stanza cut to fit
Her perspective  
Bit by bit
A fleeting feeling


No longer
Once was
Used to be

Pages written upon sand
For the wind to take up and carry
I sit and I feel for your hand
Why is everything so temporary?
 Jun 2018 Ann Beaver
life's jump
songs short
this grip
another afternoon without.
we go in thought.

it's here,
this sad.
and once you need the rain,
It's granted.

It's your life,
take it-
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