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 Sep 2014
SøułSurvivør
What is behind my eyes
will be forever
young

BEAUTIFUL


10W
SoulSurvivor
We are encased in aging flesh.
BUT IT DOES NOT DEFINE WHO WE ARE.

I'm not speaking of physical beauty.
But of a heart that loves all
no matter age, race, color, creed.

The ability to love is ultimately

BEAUTY
the red girl turning blue
means she's falling for you
displays her love's basic
your charm has done the trick.

the blue girl turning red
means your chance is bleak
displays no love is bred
your sight makes her acidic.

the red girl remaining red
the blue girl remaining blue
in this worst case I'm afraid
she's neutrally looking at you.
 Sep 2014
SøułSurvivør
In the annals of New York City
An amazing hero is acclaimed,
Known as "The man in the red bandana"
Welles Remy Crowther was his name.

Born in Nineteen seventy seven,
This New Yorker, born and bred,
Could have escaped death's destruction,
But chose to rescue folks instead.

All his life he cared for people,
Loved his family, kept them dear,
But on that day of 9/11
His higher purpose became clear.

An Honor Student, Lacrosse player,
Former fire fighter, too,
When explosions rocked the building,
Welles knew what he must do.

Rescuing with calm authority,
Directing people toward the doors,
He found a woman so disabled
He carried her to the 61st floor.

In the end, before death took him,
Twelve people were brought out, saved.
No one knows where Welles is buried
In his 9/11 grave.

Later, when his mother told
Of the red bandana Welles had,
The survivors saw his picture,
And knew Welles was the brave lad.

Only 26 years old,
Welles Crowther manned up in strife,
That young man is New York's hero...

... for twelve gave HIS VERY LIFE.


Soul Survivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 11, 2014
13th anniversary of 9/11
Welles Remy Crowther
1977 - 2001
R.I.P.
 Sep 2014
SøułSurvivør
Bored poets write ennui
Sad poets psalms
Bad poets penning's
Are made into songs

Silly poets write limericks
And limericks they read
Drunk poets write scribbles
Drunk on their mead

Angry young men
Write rants by the hour
Wide-eyed young girls write
Of bunnies and flowers

Idiots write nonsense
Off the seat of their pants,
Got news for you, scoffers!
So do savants!

Gays write of rainbows
Saints of sonnets of old,
Storytellers write
pirate plunder and gold.

Broken poets write humbly
Strong writes unadorned,
Happy
write of roses

 Bleeding poets of thorns.


Soul Survivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
But what makes a true poet
Is simply when
They type on a keyboard
or hold a PEN.
 Sep 2014
Jen Grimes
We don’t think
Before we speak
But our words
Only take seconds to sink
Into someone elses heart
We seem to have no problem
Destroying what’s not ours


Words mean everything
From people who used to mean something
 Sep 2014
Lyla
It’s is a rope, with the strongest of fibres
that holds me together and can unthread and tear me apart,
it replaces my bones and makes me limp.
It makes me fold into myself as I walk -
are people staring at me?

Coiling so very tightly
twisting and turning and tying,
tying me up, forcing me to my knees.
Cuts deep into my foundation -
they’ve spread too far.

Rapid breath intakes, sweaty palms
my heartbeat is deafening, faster faster,
punching through my chest as I walk down the street.
I just need to get to the end
yet I always fail and f  a  i  l  more.


Trying not to let my weak body collapse me.
trying not the let the sheets smother me.
trying not the let the rocks squash me.
trying not to let the fingers strangle me.
trying not to let the words define me.


It’s like a ***** that holds my world together
there not point trying to look, you cant find it,
yet when I’m in public it comes loose.
I prepare to run as
the sky crumbles around me.

The ***** is so small you cannot tell it lay inside me
it’s so delicate so don’t look at me closely,
or you can see it in the twiddling in my fingers.
The dilated pupils and panicked expression.
Choose. Fight or flight?

I bite my lip so hard it starts to bleed
trying to keep it inside and hidden as to keep it a secret,
it’s like a wave trying to break towards the shore.
Like somehow, it’s never going to stop
*so I keep sinking and sinking and nobody can tell.
 Sep 2014
SøułSurvivør
Superheroes rule they say,
They are all the rage today.
But Jesus Christ's the one I seek...
He is strong where I am weak!

-chorus-
Jesus is stronger than Superman,
Jesus is mighty He has a plan,
Jesus could save the whole wide world...
Every man, woman, boy and girl!

Could Ironman ever heal the sick?
Thor or Jesus, take your pick!
That Green Hornet has a car,
But Jesus is the Morning Star...

-chorus-

The world has Fantastic Four
But Jesus Christ can feed the poor,
Can Batman walk upon the sea?
Could Spidy die for you and me?

-chorus-

There's no reason to wonder why,
Jesus Christ's my kinda guy!
He will save you! Yes! He can!
'Cause Jesus is stronger than Superman!

Jesus is stronger than Superman,
He saved me! I am His fan!
Jesus Reigns! He'll rule the world!
Every man, woman, boy and girl!


Soul Survivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) 2011
This is a song for children I wrote
a few years back. I plan to produce it on
Youtube. I've written the music, as well.
~~~~There is turmoil in the turning,
      Breakage in the bend,
    Talks of new beginnings,
  Whispers of the end.

  Screams of silence so deafening,
    Lips that move without a sound.
      Never knowing what's happening,
        Feeling lost, fighting to be found.


        Something on the surface,
      That begs for something more.
    The meaning in the purpose,
  The dangle of the lure.

  The escaping thoughts of mind,
    Lost to the strong willed
      Caught up in the social grind,
        The way of life was once killed.


        Oh!, and ain't it a shame?
      Staying still, while life races by
    Losing this grandest of games
  Barely floating, while everyone else can fly...


  That's where some will find themselves,
    Arms down by their side.
      Standing here if nowhere else,
        This, their lot in life.
My first collaboration on Hello Poetry and I am honored for it to be with Mike Hauser!
Hope you enjoy it!
 Sep 2014
blythe
In life,
It is essential
That you learn
How to be strong enough
To let go;
And wise enough
To wait
For what you deserve.
 Sep 2014
Joe Cole
I have some followers who have never posted a poem
Perhaps they're just people who enjoy reading poetry
But maybe they are just nervous about showing their work
Anyway here's how I view it
An artist makes a charcoal or pencil sketch
Once it looks right they start adding color
A photographer frames the subject and once its right
Takes the photograph
So start by writing a short stanza and then play with the words
You just might surprise yourselves
 Sep 2014
Joe Cole
INSANITY-one persons interpretation of another persons state of mind
 Sep 2014
SøułSurvivør
... would not be "liked" today.
We wouldn't want to read about
What those poets had to say.

Death, war, babies napalmed,
Would not be thought so great.
To read of the "Red Scarves"
We'd not appreciate!

This, my friends, does worry me.
In fact, it gives a chill,
For if poets do not write of it...

... who do you think WILL???


Soul Survivor
Would you write the TRUTH of
What happens in this world on a poetry site?
I did at my last site. I lost readership.

Would YOU?
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