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 Nov 2014 nurul
Ember Evanescent
MY HEAD IS A TWISTER IT
SWEEPS UP EVERYTHING
I CARE ABOUT AND DEST
      ROYS IT DISPLACING
        EVERYTHING AND
          MAKING A MESS
             WHY ARE MY
                THOUGHTS
                SO DESTRUC
                  TIVE WHY
                    MUST IT
                    ALWAYS
                    HURT TO
                     EXIST I
                      HATE
                       THE
                       TOR
                        NA
                        DO
                         TH
                          AT
                           IS
                           M
                            Y
                            M
                             I
   ­                         N
                            D
 Nov 2014 nurul
curlygirl
Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.
Books are reliable folk,
They'll remain in your hand as you have a ****.

The pages don't mind markings,
The bindings are okay with carvings,

The letters will always remain,
Even if, your holy grail is left out in the rain.

Their secret meaning can be read
in the solitary of your head.

Or your favourite piece, shout aloud!
Yell it to a crowd.

Weep as your character's love departs,
Flick through it with a careless heart.

Keep it in your back pack,
Or glare at it on your iPad.

Your trusty friend 'book'
Is always willing for you to prise it open,
and take a long, hard look.
 Nov 2014 nurul
Hailey Hernandez
And it kills me
to know
that you would much rather
open a bottle
of raspberry *****
than open up yourself
to me.
August 18th 2014
And nothing has changed
 Nov 2014 nurul
201
the kind of girl who craves
falling leaves
and coffee shop loves
with the soft plucks of a guitar
and the vague taste of tobacco
on his tongue
 Nov 2014 nurul
Ben
Fibonacci
 Nov 2014 nurul
Ben
gold
thought
spiral
natural
golden thought cycle
god's natural infinite spiral
eye
burnished gold
tarnish
god's
cyclical thoughts
golden spiral
infinite growing
recurrent cycle
spiraling towards god's golden eye
circling nature's burnished cycle
 Nov 2014 nurul
smallhands
símtal
 Nov 2014 nurul
smallhands
Streets have even learned my mantra-
"My heart is heavy, but my will is strong"
I recall the way your eyes made everything
go still
Like wires we climb with autumn,
putting our fingers up to the windowsill
We are scared of love, yes
But love should be scared of us

-c.j.
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