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to crack an egg
break it apart
but remember beaten eggs
make savory omelets

It takes someone
to cut a tree
saw it down
make it fall
but remember fallen wood
makes homes for all

It takes someone
to light a candle
make it shine
brighten a room
that once was dark
like a tomb

It takes someone
to plant a seed
grow a garden
to till the soil
that once was harden
 Jul 2022 Erick Snyder
Emma P
Spring
 Jul 2022 Erick Snyder
Emma P
Spring
We are all in spring,
our lives budding and blooming.
Shifting, changing, rearranging,
rushing, always moving.

Our future will be so different
than what we’ve always known.
Some may run from this strange new world,
some will embrace the unknown.

We are all in spring,
and summer will soon arrive.
The winds of change are blowing;
It’s the end of the beginning of our lives.
Written in 10th grade to reflect how I felt about teenage years and high school.
 Jul 2022 Erick Snyder
Emma P
Sun
 Jul 2022 Erick Snyder
Emma P
Sun
When I say
that you are my Sun,
I don’t mean that you are
Luminous,
Brilliant,
Gilded,
Beautiful,
Bold,
Warm,
Or even the center of my universe.
I simply mean that
I cannot look at you
Without hurting
Every poet has a truth.
The truth is, poets can lie.
Poets can lie and hide the truth.
Poets can also disguise a beautiful truth as a sinful lie.

We poets don't back down easily.
We poets want to win every conversation.
We very much prefer to raise our pens
To record our artful manipulation.

We write about our sorrows
Our nearest and dearest know nothing of.
We write about our joys
Our greatest challengers want to dispose of.

Do we know someone who knows us better?
Do we know someone who knows who we are?
Do we know if we are anything else but poets?

We are all the same.
You are human, as am I.
You see it straight, I see it in rhymes.
You like it easy, I like it fly.
You hear it quick, I take my time.
Do you know why?

'Coz every poet has suffered a lie.
A lie that ignites a fire for truth.
Poets can write the truth whilst hiding the lies.
How can we not, when -
We poets can disguise a painful lie as a beautiful truth?
And when I can see you in your highest light,

I would call you My Grace,

For how well you have demonstrated it, again and again.
"Forgiveness isn't a feeling. It's a decision to offer grace instead of demanding justice." ~Dr. Gary Chapman
does not
correspond
with other poems
who have angels
looking over them.

This poem is as ugly as I am
try as I might to add glimmer.

This poem was born in Egypt.
It borrowed trouble from
the Beginning,
but still wants you to
lick the little dewdrops off
its weedy leaves.

Sara Fielder © Jan 2021
It's so very unimportant
once I stop to remember
the list of all the other things
we don't talk about anymore.



Sara Fielder © Sept 2021
If I really had

as much common sense

and enlightenment

as I should have,

I'd forsake all This for

a salt cave and temple bell.



Sara Fielder © Nov 2021
Sit
Quiet is the cranium
experiencing
quaint quarters.
Room becomes a mellow
un-dramatic Marshmello,
and for the moment,
there is nothing to
be afraid of.


Sara Fielder © Jan 2022
I can write
more poems
than you
can read
so there
I believe
that means
I win
hah
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