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 Dec 2014 Isha Kumar
Meg B
I
 Dec 2014 Isha Kumar
Meg B
I
I am everything
And I am nothing.
I am big
And I am small.
I am frightened
And I am brave.
I am empty
And I am whole.
I am happy
And I am sad.
I am strong
And I am weak.
I am lonely
And I am fulfilled.
I am optimistic
And I am cynical.
I am hopeless
And I am hopeful.
I am right
And I am wrong.
I am selfless
And I am selfish.
I am lost
And I am found.

I am ironic.
I am not quite psychotic.
I am oxymoronic.

I am me.
 Dec 2014 Isha Kumar
David Moss
Colossal, climactic  clouds

Caught in a canopy of blue

Clear.
Cascading.
Calming.

Captures eyes within it's countless hues.

A blue of such hue my mind never once knew

Least that's what i felt

And it definately felt true.



Simultaneously I see sudden shooting sunlight

A seamlessly stupendous splendor, it stammers my senses

It shines, shimmers, sinks into my supple skin.

My Stimulations soaking; I submit from within

I succumb.
I smirk.
I think and say


'Surrounded by shivering delight, Surely I am safe today!'


Least, that is what it felt to be true.

But as if i actually knew.




Whilst waning wrapping waves

Of whipping white-water

Washes out to a wide horizon

Willingly captures my once wandering eyes.


Wait though.


It's all sinking in now. Woe.


Weeping with what I wanted to be  joy

I wail

I whisper 'Where does the water start, and the sky begin?'

And that question, triggers it within.

The last word really

Begin.

When did this begin?

And a blanket of black, blinding blankness, descends.

I blame

I whimper

I whisper

'Did it really have to end?'

But it has the better of me now.



And harsh reality I cannot shake.




I wake.
He Never Said I'm Sorry

He never said I'm sorry
For the bad things that he did
Or all the time that he missed
When I was just a kid

He never said I'm sorry
For never teaching me
All the things I would need
To help me through me teens

He never said I'm sorry
For not standing by my side
The day when I got married
Not meeting my new bride

He never said I'm sorry
For not knowing his grandson
Missed the day he was born
Never knew how he grew up

He never said I'm sorry
As he laid dying in his bed
Now for him I just feel sorry
For all the things he never did

He never said I'm sorry


Poem by: Carl Joseph Roberts
I guess the thing he did give me was that I now shower my son with love every day.

If you like this, please add this to a few collections and help it trend. Thanks. JOE
In Dwimordene, in Lorien

Seldom have walked the feet of Men,

Few mortal eyes have seen the light,

That lies there ever, long and bright.

Galadriel! Galadriel!

Clear is the water of your well,

White is the star in your white hand

Unmarrred, unstained is leaf and land,

In Dwimordene, in Lorien

More fair than thoughts of Mortal Men.

To Flammifer of Westernesse.
One ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.

Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
 Dec 2014 Isha Kumar
Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
 Dec 2014 Isha Kumar
Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.
 Dec 2014 Isha Kumar
Devon Webb
We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.
It's worth it though.
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