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 Nov 2012 Erin Lewis
Lilly Tereza
Some of us write to feel the pain,
Some to let it go.
Some write just because it rhymes,
Others just don’t know.
Nature and its beauty,
A graveyard with its ghost.
A dream of futures happy,
Passion is in most.
A poem that's so delicate
Words straight from a heart.
Only from a dreamer's soul,
Their words a work of art.
A poem is a gateway,
That leads into the mind,
A passage that is hard to reach,
And double hard to find.
But you can find it if you look
Into some troubled eyes,
You never know what each word means,
My lines are held-in cries.
But others could be just to say
"Hello", "Have a great day"
It just depends who’s writing,
And who might come their way.
 Nov 2012 Erin Lewis
Roberta Day
In my sleep, we walked
along the dampened street
under the moon's influential glow
We stopped and stared, analyzing each
other's  features we used to know

I did not care where we went
I only wanted my time spent with you,
doing what we never had the chance to do

I could feel the warmth from your skin
even after my eyes had opened
The corners of my mouth were curved
When I realized it was only a dream,
I sighed only one word: Why?
 Nov 2012 Erin Lewis
Emma T
I feel as if I'm broken

Of bonds I once held true

A basket case of sorrows

Bound in a tomb,

I felt a wilted whisper

Of softness, I cannot bear

A kiss of elegance I fancied

Of whom I do not dare
 Nov 2012 Erin Lewis
DieingEmbers
How long must I suffer in silence
my need of you?

For...

I've told the wind
and shared my tears with the rain
I've written I love you's in both sand and snow

But...

you never heard
nor tasted all those nights my pain
or even read but once my hearts I told you so

So...

answer me if I cannot
in open celebration of our love
make known my heart and souls desire

Then...

where may it be shown
as not to cast upon our love such doubt
as to make my heart a liar.
Green, Brown, Red, Blue and Clear,
Are the colors of their tears.

Earth cries.
The Sky Sings,
The heart Swallows,
Air the wind brings.

Contaminated silence,
That creates joyful pain.
Disguises itself into dusty shadows,
Which forms cannot be contained.

Innocent pink lips,
Yellow enchanted bruises,
Taste the beautiful innocence,
Of sparkling black scars.

So break the gold,
Of my shattered heart.
So that I may entice you,
With my tears.

Take me away,
And let me drain,
Beautiful raindrops,
That expresses my fear.

Rainbow delight,
Is what you would see,
If you delight your face,
In the inner me.

I am the enemy.
At least that is what you said.
But you feel and taste to,
The color of tears.

© Robyn G Neymour
My love is the seventh sense;
Before which there is no meaning.
My love is birth and death at once;
Would not die after dreaming.

My love is the light that dances on waves;
That spins the oceans, and foams its enclaves.
My love is the rushing of flocks on wing;
The voice in the heart of the forest that sings.

My love is the seventh sense;
Before which there is no meaning.
My love is the sky and whine of ocean;
She will not die after dreaming.

My love is the silence of a windless day;
Spring snows on top of the bare mountain.
She is the babble from the brooks;
And the air that steeps in secret fountains.
I bear a breast beneath his finger
Whispering over the music
One thousand sweet tiny kisses
A symphony of delicious screams
Frantic with beauty that has been left unseen
Chanting a love language by luscious wind
Through insignificant cries
One will recall
The urge to smear the shadows out to sea
Paint diamonds through the forest
Smelling the sweet skin
Worship, swim and run through me
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