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 Apr 2013 Bianca
Shayne Topp
Waking
 Apr 2013 Bianca
Shayne Topp
Tears in the sheets and clothes on the floor
explosive footprints of the night before

the walls still echo with nostalgic tones
of ******* screams and lustful moans

Now we wade in white linen, flushed and tired
from fulfilling the fantasies of which we desired

Light through the window reveals our bare skin
when our eyes are awakened, we'll start up again
 Apr 2013 Bianca
Ameerah Holliday
The seasons blended together still
as if i've fallen head first into a daydream.
But some nights,
i'd place our fate in the hands of a star,
and whisper words of forever.
Praying my answer was You.

There was enchantment in You.
Yet still,
I held little hope in our forever.
For what is wished for while dreaming,
is long lost amongst the stars
found only on the darkest of nights.  

My uncertainties were hidden in the shadows of the night
and clouded every thought of You.
But there, locked between the breath of two stars,
silent and still,
I chased away my dreams.
Convinced that nothing could last forever.

I am Alice now, and my rabbit hole leads into forever.
As mysterious as the night
so I close my eyes and dream.
And I am suddenly re-immersed in You.
As the hands that chase the day stand still
I am misplaced again, amongst the wishes lost in stars.

I have traveled through time, chased unknown stars
and stared into the face of forever.
But as my mind's portraits flashed by me, my life stood still.
For everything was overcome by the night
and all I could see was You.
Mirroring back at me all my hopes and dreams.

At first, I'd thought I was dreaming,
(creativity tends to flourish within the stars.)
But I could see it in You,
The smallest glimpse of forever,
Gleaming in your eyes late that night,
And I knew my faith held tightly still.

I am still immersed in the wishes of my dreams,
where the symphonies of night hold stars
that shine into forever, and are reflected back in You.
Copywrite 2013 Fall Aztec Literary Review, San Diego State University
 Apr 2013 Bianca
bobby burns
mornings are better
when wrapped up
in strawberry kiwi
paper and burned.
-
like gene wilder
and roald dahl
with lickable wallpaper
cut up into skins.
-
a mile took more
effort than i thought,
and i'd rather replace
the tar in my lungs
with love,
but no one
likes to shotgun anymore,
and the man i've written
so much about
has pulled a move
more fitting me
than him,
-
 Apr 2013 Bianca
Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.
 Apr 2013 Bianca
E. E. Cummings
in the rain-
darkness,     the sunset
being sheathed i sit and
think of you

the holy
city which is your face
your little cheeks the streets
of smiles

your eyes half-
thrush
half-angel and your drowsy
lips where float flowers of kiss

and
there is the sweet shy pirouette
your hair
and then

your dancesong
soul.     rarely-beloved
a single star is
uttered,and i

think
       of you

— The End —