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Devon Lane Jan 2015
Is it considered fire if you want to be burned?
  Jan 2015 Devon Lane
Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.
  Jan 2015 Devon Lane
Emily Dickinson
54

If I should die,
And you should live—
And time should gurgle on—
And morn should beam—
And noon should burn—
As it has usual done—
If Birds should build as early
And Bees as bustling go—
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
’Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie—
That Commerce will continue—
And Trades as briskly fly—
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene—
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!
Devon Lane Dec 2014
I listen to the rain,
how it falls steadily, surely.
Precipitation has a single purpose.
Not to be danced under,
not to be kissed under,
nor to be sung under.
Rain falls solely because
no one is there to catch it.
Everything is impressionable,
hearts especially.
Don't let the rain mold you
down to earth with it's
incurable loneliness.
Look up into the
teary vastness,
hold your arms out wide,
and let go.
  Dec 2014 Devon Lane
Tupelo
10
One time I lost my way,
Two times I accepted your apologies
Tree times I threw away too much of myself,
Four times I forgot the name I once carried,
Five times I loved far too well,
Six times I wrote poems for forgiveness,
Seven times I produced false promises,
Eight times I shared nights with empty bodies,
Nine times I gave away everything,
Ten times I let myself remember
  Dec 2014 Devon Lane
Indrew C
Not so long ago, I used to write about love
As if it were overflowing in me.
We write because we think we are overwhelmed
by the feeling that inspires us.
I have discovered today,
that this inspiration we get comes from but a longing.
The words we write down cover up
our true intentions of wanting to feel more.
We write because what we feel
is not enough.

I know this because I have felt enough.
I have felt overwhelmed.
For the first time, I knew what true love was all about.
Since then, not a word was spilled with ink.
I tried to gather my words
only to find out that the one who had taken them
was the love of my life.
That was when I realized,
It was she who had been my masterpiece.
An artwork where I had poured my everything.
An artwork that had come to life.
An artwork that needed no words.

We are never truly inspired until we have nothing left to say.
Until we are left in awe.
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