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 Feb 2021 Demi
Mary Anne Norton
Art
 Feb 2021 Demi
Mary Anne Norton
Art
I am not a starving artist
I have been well nourished
By the sound and seasoned
Crumbs from
The words and music
Paintings and dancers
Athletes and doctors
Parents and teachers
Students and others
Now to savor and
Digest
 Oct 2020 Demi
NewFoundPoet
Into the woods we ran.
Our bodies and souls entwined,
A ravenous ivy…
Consuming everything we could see,
Claiming it our own.

Until we stumbled upon a large oak tree,
In the middle of the wood.
There I stopped,
Pulling you closer…
I showed you every cut, every cracked branch, every hole…
You held my hand close to your chest,
As we covered every blemish…

From then on every moment,
Bursting with life.
The sun rose a heat,
Dwarfed only by my passion for you.
The breeze blew,
A caress, familiar… comforting…
An exhale, a thousand butterflies…
The same butterflies you breathed into me,
Our first kiss.

But, our forest fell under fire…
The spark from a new smile…
As the wood set a blaze,
Our ivy fade to ash.
The butterflies left to chase a new desire.

There sits that lone oak tree
Cuts, cracks, holes…
But this time, it’s burning to it’s very last fiber.
Now tell me, when a heart falls…
And not a soul is around,
Does it make a sound when it breaks?
This poem has a bit of symbolism within it that isn't very clear until the final lines... I hope you enjoy!
 Apr 2020 Demi
Empire
lines
 Apr 2020 Demi
Empire
I don't want to have to try and explain to you
The dark lines on my wrist and thigh
That I pray you will never be able to understand
Spent a long time just staring at my scars today...

It's been over a month since I last cut... doesn't feel like much of an accomplishment, but maybe it is...
 Apr 2020 Demi
girlrinth
Fresh Start
 Apr 2020 Demi
girlrinth
The Golden
Gate Bridge
is a harp.

It’s one
for a giant.

Yet the harp has
never been played.

If it would the
sound would shine.

Everyone would
hear it all
over the world.

The bridges ropes
turning to a line of
raindrops though.

Rush hour
would agree.

The fish long
to be free.

The butterflies
are blind.

Stars fly through
like sand.

Trees reaching
towards it.

Yet no one
hears the pulse
of a promise.
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