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 Nov 2014
Lauramihaela
There is still so much to see;
do not feel blinded.
There is still so much to do;
do not say you're bored.
There are still so many strangers to meet;
do not feel alone.
There are still so many choices to make;
do not feel trapped.
There is still so much to feel;
do not feel sad.

There are still so many places to go;
do not stop now.
 Nov 2014
Poetic T
And so the green balloons did grow
Inflated, nurtured over time,
This tree of air
Nitrogen,
Oxygen,
Carbon
Dioxide,
Argon,
Traces of other gases too,
Out side was warm
Internal temp minus triple degrees,
What had been barren branches
Now sustained as these
Strings matured forth
Buds of latex and rubber grew,
Liquid air exhaled as the buds nurtured  
Air expanded with warm the green balloons
Grew
&
Grew
Sprung forth in to life what once was
Small, now expanded fuelled by the
Cold fuel of the tree of white,
In the winds they did gesture
As if dancing putting on a show
Tree,
Branch,
String,
Green balloons flourished there veins
Feeding air anew,
Blustery winds picked up
Strings did snap, green balloons did
Float away, drifting upon high
Into a sea of blue,
But as seasons change,
Green balloons became loose
Many floated away to places new
Those that did not,
Deflated,
Depleted,
Exhausted,
Nourishment of air, no longer green ballons
Phenomenon's of gases changed
And green faded now this tree of air
Brought forth new shades of
   Yellows,
Purples,
Black,
Oranges,
So these colours did fall from the tree,
Floating not as before,
They did descend, slowly to the floor,
Biodegradable. they did fade
From view, not what they were before,
The life cycle of these green balloons
The tree of white grows evermore cold,
For seasons change and green balloons will
Grow again next spring  floating in the air once more.
All balloon poems/writes can be found by  balloon-series
Nature science & balloons
I sit at my window pen in hand
staring at blank pages, willing them to speak, to whisper something of my frustration and shatter the silence within.
I curse the ink that blackens my fingers as it flows without ebb, skillfully scratching out the mundane, the lists, the cards, the endless to do's, only to  become as mute as my friendless tongue when feelings threaten escape.
I struggle to contain all that I feel, all the loathing of all that I know and all that I am within this small form. The threat of drowning a reality and sometime solace.
Emotion unknown chokes my soul as fear cages my heart within it's cold clenching.
This art was my voice, my passage to sanity. Now ticking clocks and glowing paper mock my troubled mind.

While I wonder at the point of it all.
 Nov 2014
Emma Pickwick
I write a lot about being in the passenger seat,
In cars that are beat up,
Or sometimes they're luxe.
About soft linens and and duvets like winter's best angels,
About smoking Marlboro reds on front porch steps.
About cold and blank mornings.

I write a lot about coffee shops.
Looking out the window and watching passerby's,
Feeling the sonder seep into my bones,
About the ones who smile at me,
Those I don't know,
And those I eventually get to meet.

I write about falling in love,
Getting my heart broken,
*** with strange men,
Which was only one time.  
When I felt loss in my chest and got carried away.

And so I want you to feel me the way I feel all of these things that I can't help but be so obsessed with and I don't know why.
 Nov 2014
blythe
Don't be fooled by words;
Many can say the words "I love you"
But only a few
Can make efforts to prove that they really do.
 Nov 2014
Latiaaa
Christ is in control everything bad that happens is for a reason. So whatever you may be going through right at this very moment, stand fast do not be afraid and whatever is happening never give up. For there is a reason even if we do not know what it is, trust and stand firm.
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