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A girl hungry now,
words flow from her mouth.
She hopes, where it falls, wisdom will sprout.
and one day may there be food to feed
**millions of empty stomachs that plead.
Edited by: Mr. Joe Adomavicia
Thank you sir, for your suggestion and taking time reading this one.
It was written for all people who feel hungry for something. For those who
seeks answer and thrist for attention of someone they care for.
But most of all it is dedicated to those
people who have nothing to eat,
literally. Those who begs just to survive. (Especially children)
Let us extend our hands and hearts to them.
 Feb 2015 DeAnna Sandoval
Deenah
It'd be a lie to say I don't care,
When I do.
I do.

It'd be a lie to say it doesn't hurt,
When it does.
I do.

It'd be a lie to pretend I am not looking,
When I am.
I do.

It'd be a lie to pretend I don't love you,
When I do.
I do.

And I know you know it.
But still we live to please others,
To protect ourselves.
And we still stand strong-
Whilst we wish to exist without them,
We can't. Because part of me and you lies with everyone we've met.
That makes us who we are.
And I love every bit of you for it.
*I do.
The South Side
(a song)

Three young boys just living their lives
Grew up poor learned how to survive
Never had much never asked why
That's just how it was on The South Side

All three were happy where they were
Thought they lived the life they deserved
They all had hopes and they all had dreams
But they wanted more then they could see

Three best friends for all of life
Would each move away and take a wife
They all had children of their own
But they'd always call The South Side home

The South Side is where they'd go back
When they'd tell stories of their past
How lessons learned stayed with them
And helped three boys become best friends
The South Side is where they'd go back
When they'd tell stories of their past
How lessons learned stayed with them
How the South Side made them into men

Then one day two friends would call
And find one friend not there at all
All three together one last time
Two friends now must say goodbye

Two friends carry the one who died
Who had given them so much in life
They share the memories held inside
Of the life they lived, on the South Side

The South Side is where they'd go back
When they'd tell stories of their past
How lessons learned stayed with them
And helped three boys become best friends
The South Side is where they'd go back
When they'd tell stories of their past
How lessons learned stayed with them
How the South Side made them into men


Poem by: Carl Joseph Roberts
A true story

Please add to a few collections
Family’s not only
Blood and bone
It’s being each other’s cornerstone.
Intimacy,friendliness and camaraderie among st
family
progressively ebb away into nothingness
to be replaced sadly by indifference
and irreverence over the passage of time.
However a people can make a choice
to keep the candle of love, warmth and sheer sparkle
burning
indefinitely.
 Feb 2013 DeAnna Sandoval
R Saba
Sometimes
I like to break,
pause the fighting,
sit down
and try to think my way out of this
instead.

And I realize
that's why I feel so trapped:
Because inside my head,

I am free.
I'm just sayin'
 Jan 2013 DeAnna Sandoval
SamBee
She just got up...
And left.
I- I told her to leave-
And she did.

I looked back at the ruffled bed,
blue and stripped and rumpled-
And it was empty....

The white door stayed shut.
I run to lock it.
As the click of the latch obeys
The force of my fingers,
The door disappears.

I turn around;
Left standing there is a full-length mirror.
I stare at my entire self-
Forever-
Glancing at every inch of my skin
And how wonderful my mind looks on the outside.

I speak and my ears are tickled by the fancy
Of my notes.
I was jealous of this girl who I thought was beautiful, much more beautiful that I am. But it got to the point where my mind would taunt me about it. It lay her down on a bed, seductively, but I wasn't turned on I was more angry with myself for not having her looks. I was so done with it that I told her to get up and leave. I wrote this poem and she never came back to tease me in my mind. I had gained a sense of clarity in realizing that there are other people who are gorgeous in this world, but that doesn't make me any less than them.
Rich. I am not. Poor. I am not.
Nor do I have any money to speek of.
But I am rich beyond my wildest dreams.
I have a family that loves me, a daughter I love dearly more than my own life
and will treasure more than any bill can pay for strife.
I follow no greed to its end for I know what road gold will lead you down.
I know that in the end, I wish my family to be around.

Money buys not happiness nor does wealth buy true friends.
For they cannot be purchased by wicked, evil ends.
I have no penny in my pocket, nor have I a dime to my name
but I know that I am happy and will not live in vain.
Clothes do not make the a man and tattered are his wrags
To riches I will set myself apart and in poverty take my stand
for I know what true riches are even though I too wear my wrags.

So busy yourself for all your toil and make your money fist over hand.
In the end you die a lonely, bitter, broken man.
But when my grave calls me and before it I stand looking in.
I will die with a smile wider than monetary riches could ever buy.
For I am poor and have no home but truly, I am rich.
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