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 Nov 2013 avital
Sophie Anna
הגשם יורד

ויורד

.ויורד

,וכשהגשם ייפסק

.השמיים לא בורר

יש הרבה עננים

.והכל אפור

,שום דבר לא יבש

.והכל יש מים בו

.פיתום, משהו מופיע בשמים

.יש לו את כל הצבעים

.יש אדום, וכתום, וצהוב, וירוק, וכחול, וגם סגול

.אין גשם עכשו––רק קשת

.אחרי הגשם, הכל טוב
 Oct 2013 avital
E. E. Cummings
i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon
 Oct 2013 avital
L Meyer
Structure
 Oct 2013 avital
L Meyer
There once was a proper noun,
who started hanging with the wrong crowd.
With alluring adjectives who handed out compliments like candy
− gob smacking gossipers with an opinion on everything.
And with thrill-seeking adverbs,
who buddied up to the most dangerous of companions;
crash, dive, hurl, and gamble (to name a few).

Until the day the sentence came rambling into town,
planting punctuation in the form of kisses
on the noun’s eyelids, earlobes, and collarbone.

Provoking such admissions as, “My thighs stuck
to the black leather seats under the hot, cloudy skies
of that August afternoon, and my hair whipped
like willow branches in the wind,
when I rode on the back of his motorcycle.”
or, “He greets me every morning with a sun-drenched kiss”,
and, “The tulips were picked fresh from the ditch of
a curvy, country road, but now sit in a
vase by my bed, and are slowly wilting away.”

It would eventually be made clear
that the sentence had a nasty habit
of propositioning prepositions,
only to leave them hanging,
and to place things in parenthesis,
that simply did not belong.  

And so, the sentence would wind up leaving town,
or “run-on”, as the noun liked to tell it.
Went chasing after some particularly provocative expletives,
eventually trailing off with a faint set of ellipsis...

And the kindest of adjectives
came cooing after the noun,
calling to her; lovely, lustrous, listless.
And the adverbs brought with them
their gentlest of friends; comfort and console,
to speak with the noun:
softly, tenderly, lovingly- all witnesses.

But it was of no use,
and the noun whispered quietly:
“I have been enchanted with a single kiss
which can never be undone,
until the destruction of language.”


*based off of the poem Permanently, by Kenneth Koch
We are unlike the rest.
Yes, I know that's what the rest say.
But unlike the rest, we are not glued together.
Instead, we are stitched together.
Stitched so that every string
Is smoother than the furrow
Of bitter eyebrows.
Stitched so that if one of us wanders off,
It would only take the tug of a string
To bring us back together.

Unlike the rest, we are a medley of forgiveness.
Because with us,
Mistakes come in a handful,
Each painted a different color of disappointment.
But it only takes
Jumps into pools fully clothed,
Random trips to the museum,
Hangout on rooftops
To make it all better again

Unlike the rest, we are craziness
Well-mixed with a spoonful of loyalty.
An odd mix, enough to taste the sweet
Amidst the sour
So that insults come easy
But if one of us trips on nothing,
The rest of us will follow to help you back up.
After laughing, of course

Unlike the rest, we aren't actually friends.
There should be a word
For people who care out of understanding,
Who laugh outside things that are funny,
Who will be there even when they physically aren't

We are not like the rest because the rest call us friends.

And they say friends are forever
But we are the people who beg for much longer.
Apparently, it's national best friends day. This is dedicated to the people who are much more than friends to me.
 Oct 2013 avital
Megan Grace
I wish I could
fill you up with
beautiful words
like you did for
me, but when I
tell you the things
my heart slides
over my teeth you
always say, "I just
don't understand it"
like I could possibly
be this thing you
don't deserve. How
can I explain to you
that you deserve
someone who touches
you like you are made
entirely of stars (which
I'm sure you are),
someone who feels
lucky at the sight
of your smile, trembles
in the wake of your
laugh?
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