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 Mar 2014
Earthchild
I kiss the moon
Lips melting onto mine
The cold seeping beneath my ivory skin
Wrapping around my glass ribs
Heavy fog resting in my lungs
Breathing out icicles
Frost lacing my eyelashes
Stars drinking me in
Cliffs taunting me to dance
Off into the dreamy haze
Crisp night air swirls in my violet veins
The night is my ecstacy
Oh and I have never felt so high
 Mar 2014
W. H. Auden
Some say love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go around,
Some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.

Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.

Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway guides.

Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summer-house;
It wasn't over there;
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories ****** but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.
 Mar 2014
Miriam
i don't i don't i don't

but i am curious
and i want to know

what does it feel like to fall in love with another soul
to know their deepest secrets but still love them
and see the worst parts about them
but that only magnifies the good

what does it feel like when it's 3 am and you can't sleep
and not because you're lonely
but because you're not anymore

what does it feel like to become so vulnerable
that you would let another soul cut open your chest
and let them see everything you've kept hidden

what does it feel like to trust someone so much
you'd let them hold your heart in their hands?

i don't know

but what i do know is everything fades to gray
and people can ruin things and make mistakes

so what does it feel like when it all breaks
when the person you love stabs your heart
and they swear they didn't mean to do it

when they look at you and you look at them
but all you see is boredom seeping through their eyes
and they don't want to kiss you anymore
and the hand they hold yours with feels limp and lifeless

what does it feel like when trust finally turns into a knife
and the person you thought would never hurt you the most
would stab you over and over with all of their lies

what does it feel like when the person you love
begins to grow increasingly distant from you
and you can't do anything but watch
and just hope that maybe you'll get over it soon?

what does it feel like?

i don't want to fall in love

i don't i don't i don't
 Mar 2014
Mike Hauser
When you ask of me, why poetry
I'm not sure you understand
That it's the center of my universe
The very depth of who I am

The molecules in the air I breath
Oxygen pulsing through the veins
The storm brewing beneath the surface
The pounding of the rain

It's the timeless anticipation
Of the thought that's yet to come
The tearing open of life's seam
The beating of the drum

The first peak of the desert flower
When it feels the gentle touch of spring
The smile in the eyes of a child
And all the joy it brings

The in and out of the tide
In the pulling of the waves
When you ask of me, why poetry
What more is there to say
 Mar 2014
Klara
In class
I nervously pinch my arm
trying to keep my focus.
At home
I try to act like I don't care
trying to keep my happy face on.
When I'm with friends
I try to take in
the vitamins
of their laughter
trying to laugh along.
When I'm alone
I blast my music
and read books
and write poems
trying not to cry.

I can't start crying,
I know I'll never stop.
 Mar 2014
Samantha Ellis
everyone assumes the worst of me
my family and my friends
i hear all of the insults
and cry until it ends

i really do try sometimes
but really there's no point
they'll just assume the worst
so i just light another joint

they never try to see my side
they don't really care
but they're poisoning my soul
until there's nothing there

sure i've made a few mistakes
and then i get the blame for theirs
everything is my fault
is there anyone who cares?

i lay in bed whenever i'm home
just to stay away
my soul can take no more
not another day
 Mar 2014
Krusty Aranda
I wonder if
she was ever
meant to be
mine.
 Mar 2014
nivek
I have no idea why
or where
or how
coincidence happens
or even
if it will
I only know it cannot be engineered
is sometimes startling
sometimes comforting
and its remembrance lasts.
 Mar 2014
Autumn
NO.
The tears on my keyboard
bespeak the pain
that is in my heart

I can't write research papers
about books
I can only read books

and besides
poems.
are the best kind of writing
10 PAGE RESEARCH PAPERS ****

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