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 Jun 2013 Emily Rogan
Lee
The bitter absence of emotion,
the cold dull smack of passing moments
against unused energy.
Slack jawed and silent
in these hours of white rooms
and cold tubs
I mapped the progress of my life
in my school set terms.

Linear function
with erratic turning points
the only thing certain is decline on a grand scale.

Breathe bitter smoke at the balcony ledge
follow the trials winding back
over the rail
the edge.

The days stretch out over my existence
the thin membrane that cages me
tells me time is passing.

White water fountain dreams
the torrents lift fog from my eyes
to gather in small spinning pools
the tranquil
and unclimactic
end of my existence.

As quiet as the moon rising
You slipped into my life
great waves pushed silently up the shore
and the receding of your presence
draws the foundation from my feet
I’ll stand shaky in the stars light.
A million suns too far away to share their warmth
like me
never let close enough to dry the worries from your eyes.

The way the days dance on your lions face
stoic and settled
you've made a statue out of yourself
to be studied and admired
but never understood.
 Jun 2013 Emily Rogan
Renee Babin
The creak of my bones,

rubbing in disagreement to my

stretching, hoping for relief while

thoughts of murky water mold and

pull apart like  a bowl of warm soup

Relief of a multitude of sorts, my

mind and body

bickering as an old married couple would,

stuck together to the very end

and yet disagreeing on

how much I should sleep

Words begin to have no meaning,

only becoming a soft mumbling of

utter nonsense that should be perfectly clear

like that pond of murky water

It drowns me in hopeless longing

for clarity, a decent night's rest

and relief.
 Jun 2013 Emily Rogan
T
Too many nights
were never enough
With only the stars
to call my bluff;
Making constellations
from the freckles on my face,
Waiting for the mirror
to deem me a disgrace;
Summer nights
warm and full,
Spent wishing,
waiting for the pull
From you
that never came
I learned the rules
to your stupid game;
The one that you weren't playing.

I'm used to playing alone.
I drop the words down,
can you reach them?
they spill up and over these chapped lips,
and I, I cannot control the flow,
I beg you make sense of me,
read between these lines,
makes sense of my hands,
my gestures give hints to you,
read my sweaty palms,
look at this jumble of propositions,
and agitated adjectives,
they used to read pig intestines,
to predict the fates.
It's not a mistake I promise you,
look at me a mess in a dress,
moving to fast to order these words,
to line up and make a sense.
 Jun 2013 Emily Rogan
Àŧùl
A step you will take,
One step I will take.
Your hand on my shoulder,
My hand on your waistline.
Swinging to the waltz,
Dancing in a smooch..
Holding you tight in my arms,
Crushing you with my chest...
The peace of your touch,
Taste sweet of your lips...
Our peaceful pose in the other's arms,
Zealous and peacefully posing in love.
My HP Poem #303
©Atul Kaushal
 Jun 2013 Emily Rogan
Ian Beckett
Words that touch you physically,
Emotionally, spiritually, make you feel
Younger, stronger, adventurous, in love,
Touch you in gentle massage, fast beating
Heart, tingling skin, enraptured, in words
You see everything, experience feelings,
Beyond senses, living in the moment,
Wanting, waiting, wishing, words that
Touch your very soul in living love.
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