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 Apr 2014
Abby B
Happiness is a light blue bird
Chirping outside your window
That wakes you up in the morning.

Happiness is a bright yellow sun
That sends warmth through you
on a spring morning.

Happiness is a green blade of grass
Swaying in the wind
As you're throwing a frizbee.

Happiness is the life you live
And the choices you make
That take you on your journey.
 Apr 2014
McElrath Natalia
anxiety is a flood
it comes in slowly
but suddenly drowning  me

it is a constant tapping pencil
beating in an irregular beat
frantically accelerating in speed

it is a small room
filled with boisterous people
gradually engulfing me

anxiety is a breath of fresh air
refreshing  as I take a breath in
satisfaction as I exhale
 Apr 2014
witchy woman
the problem with
being a poet in love,
is that you savour
& trust each word your lover has
without  question.

we are simply in love
with bare literature,
spoken from the lips of someone we hold
in higher regard
than ourselves sometimes.

when you love a poet
each word you utter,
should be a piece of artwork

each sentence,
a highly thought out structure of awe and beauty to leave us seeping
in the warmth of your voice
caressing such fine words

so when deciding that you love someone,
who writes or reads
fill their souls with beauty, memories & truth especially,
for a poet's heart breaks at ease.
thoughts.
 Apr 2014
Xiomara Hussein
I want to be alone,

I want every park bench to be empty and cold. I want to sit on the sturdiness of loneliness and feel the harshness of success. You don’t know me. No one does. I want to travel this city barefoot to feel every struggle and perseverance slip between my toes. I hate my feet. I want to hear the screams of frustrated men and women creeping through the alley. I pray for silence.  I want to feel the wholeness within me spring up with longevity and curiosity. I love to cry. I want you to be here with me holding my trembling hands. I crave to be alone. I dream of a world that I own that consist of just me, I want to run wild and free, while the wind tussles my hair with no mercy. I miss you. I want to remember no one, not even me so that way I can roam in this world with no attachments not even to my pride or standards. Don’t forget me. I want to hear the echoes of the moon whispering to the ****** on the dampened slick grass. I wait for morning. I want to sink my teeth into the tears of the earth, letting it fill the gaps as I slush around the meek but salty taste to feel alive. I have always needed braces. I long for the arrogance of man to cease to exist. I long for their stupidity.  I see you standing there in the middle of my paradise, I see the sun falling down on your shoulders, I see the woman behind you and the crowd of people with her. I see them not knowing who I am and I see there blankness stare of “care”.  I see their smiles inviting me in with yours as it starts to drizzle dreams, gliding down everyone’s pulsating hearts. I walk to you. I want to be alone.
 Apr 2014
ZL
I want to cry
           For you
I cannot revive
         My tears

     I want to feel
     For you
emotions uproot
     My fears

I want to calm
         The storm
   which rocks
         Your boat
Only I can’t
      I’m unable to float
 Apr 2014
Coral
I wanted to be the wind.

I wanted to be the wind flowing through each strand of his hair. I wanted to be the moon, bathing him in my light. I wanted to be his wisdom. I wanted to be the blush in his cheeks. The chill that traveled down his spine and the warmth of his soul. I wanted to be the itch underneath his skin when his thoughts were troubled. I wanted to be his consolation; and his isolation. I wanted to be the blur in his drunken vision. I wanted to be his dreams. I wanted to be his fixation in the night sky and the sweet seduction of his daylight. I wanted to be the plant that he watered with his kindness. I wanted to be the glass that tasted his lips, the breath that escaped his lungs and the oxygen that flowed through his blood. The stardust sticking to the walls of his veins. I wanted to be his lingering melancholy. I wanted to be the tears that once had the chance to live inside his eyelids. I wanted to be every door handle that his fingertips caressed. I wanted to be the saliva resting on his tongue. I wanted to be each and every heartbeat that kept him alive for a moment longer.
Can you understand?
Because I can’t.

I wanted to be the life that he questioned, the life that left him speechless. I wanted to be the information that he craved.

I wanted to be everything.
I wanted to be her.
I wanted to be me.
 Apr 2014
Roberta Day
Trading breaking hearts
for hearts already broken—
from your chest to mine
 Apr 2014
raw with love
I’ve always been the outsider.
The girl who dreams.
The girl who laughs too much
and cries too much.

But most importantly,
I've always been
the girl who reads.

I raised myself with books.
In words I found salvation,
in those rows and rows of
soldier-like words
I found my closest friends.

From books alone, I learned
about friendship and family,
and love, and tolerance,
equality and death.

Like a sponge, I absorbed those ideas
and words, and phrases,
and all I read about,
and when the time was ripe,
the sponge bled out
with all the words
it had taken in,
and its ink blood
covered myriad pages.

I am so young, just a kid, really,
and my life so far has been
just a pile of books I’ve read.
I want to change this,
to create a new pile –
of the books I’ve written,
of the worlds I've made.

Clumsy poetry and short stories,
and unfinished novels,
and the constant voice
making up stories and characters
in the back of my mind -
that's what I live for,
and the air I breathe.

I’m so young, just a kid, really,
but I know what I want from my life –
I want to write books and shape the lives
of other little kids who will pick up my
books, and read them, and learn about life.
 Apr 2014
betterdays
let me share,
today's incontravertable truth
life is lived.
right now
let me share
today's incontravertable truth
death is lived
right now
they only differ
by a single moments,
grace, breath and heartbeat.

let me share tomnorrow's
incontravertable truth
it is the same as today's
 Mar 2014
Rachel Brisco
It's like all the time you were gone I was holding my breath and though I didn't know it at the time, I held it out of hope.
The hope it was all a dream.
That I could grow stronger in the lack of backbone that you were to me, tangled beneath my skin and the blood I bled each day.
I held my breath because you took it away.
My soul deprived of love from you.
My lungs learning to breathe alone.
But I can't breathe without you.
I might die without you.
Deprived without you.
No reason to survive without you.
I live for you, love for you.
Get by each day, week and month for you.
For you.
It's all for you.
I work for you, awaken for you, I'd travel day and night for you.
I am you.
I'm here for you.
I'll support every decision you make for you.
Because I make mine for you too.
And we are one though we look like two.
Maybe one day you'll say you love me too.
Again and again.
And I'll love you again.
I'll love you forever.
I'll be your best friend.
Because you are mine.
I'm forever yours.
And my love for you will never be forced.
It's lasted all this time for you.
Don't ever doubt that my love isn't true.
love longing hopeful wishful depression forever
 Mar 2014
Glen Brunson
you are a body in a boat
on the lake with the shadows
of a million birds over your chest
and you are breathing with them all

and the waves want you
like I want you
and we will both kiss the tips
of your dripping fingers
stretching from your crinkled
hand, like all of Tennessee
in your palm.

oh, how full of fog you are.

you are a body in a boat
on the lake with that shore
covered in rocks, unskipped
the plants unpulled,
roots unslipped.

but as your fingers drip
from body to liquid
the discs of ripples
                     spread
to me on that shore
holding my own
               holy head

so little did we know                          (so little did we know)
those ripples were not our own
but instead
the alternating white/blue
of iris and cornea
of skin and vein
of hand and sky                                  (of iris and cornea
that all go away                                    of skin and vein
that all die                                              of hand and sky)

and one day, we will find
(beneath the shadows cast
by temporary leaves)                        (that all go away
our own bones, buried deep              that all die)
under the roots.

                                                         ­       (our own bones, buried deep
                                                            ­      under the roots)

                                                   *and you are breathing with them all
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