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 Dec 2015 JL
River Scott
There's something about
the feeling of your arms
and the way the hold me
but i don't get that anymore

-r.y.s
i will get them back eventually.
 Dec 2015 JL
River Scott
i stopped bleeding
bleeding the words
the feeling
i needed to write
and now
im bottled up inside

and i cant think anymore.

-r.y.s
I have to keep writing.
 Dec 2015 JL
Awesome Annie
Come back to me,
I can feel the silence.

Heavy as it presses upon my chest.
Thoughts of you suffocate me.

Your eyes I see so often,
As I open and close mine.

I whispered I loved you...
Just once,
Not loud enough to hear.

I feel so lost now.
Parting my lips for sweet tongued kisses,
That only falter.

Allow me,
To be your sunshine again.
I'm still yours
Come back to me.
 Dec 2015 JL
Awesome Annie
This is the story of a girl, who's eyes were black as night. Stars would flow from her hair, whenever she took flight.

On the back of a sparrow she would rise, to bid the sun farewell. Hair changing the sky to dark, stars shining where they fell.

Arms outstretched she'd gather sunsets, and place them in a jar. Making wishes for brighter days, upon each shooting star.

Faint memories hold as time wears on, she no longer has a name. Age no longer takes her youth, she'll always radiate the same.

Her gown of blue flows around her, with elegant wings spread her sparrow fly's. Changing day into night, forever doomed to roam the evening sky's.
 Dec 2015 JL
Awesome Annie
Weeping willows hide the child, that sees beyond this time. Veils and shadows taking shape, within the forefront of her mind.

Her hair is in disarray, she's just woke up from rest. Darkness all around her, heart beat quickens inside her chest.

She lifts her voice to the darkness, and sings to fill it with light. Bursting colors stream forth, pushing back the night.

Home she can't remember, it's begun to fade away. Like erupting colors, the sunrise brings each day.

Clutching her doll to her chest the trees soothe her with song. Wind blows through her hair, and passes hope along.

She is the child of morning, a sign for better days to come. Shining in her innocence, to beckon the rising sun.
 Dec 2015 JL
Michael Murphy
Oh, the fertile mind of a child, plant a thought and watch it grow wild

So much to explore, and they always want more, with such vigor, which leaves me beguiled

Tend it well, give it light, plant good seeds, keep it bright,
most of all keep it safe from the prey

Using love as the feed, it is all that you need to keep it warm at the end of the day!
 Dec 2015 JL
Michael Murphy
Chewing words, this one's sweet, look a sentence, more to eat

Crunching nouns, I love the sounds

Grinding pronouns into grounds

My favorite words are adjectives, like herbs they're flavor additives

Conjunctions help to bind the meal

Verbs now helping chew with zeal

Not sure I can articulate how much I love what I just ate!
Ay, this is freedom!--these pure skies
  Were never stained with village smoke:
The fragrant wind, that through them flies,
  Is breathed from wastes by plough unbroke.
Here, with my rifle and my steed,
  And her who left the world for me,
I plant me, where the red deer feed
  In the green desert--and am free.

For here the fair savannas know
  No barriers in the bloomy grass;
Wherever breeze of heaven may blow,
  Or beam of heaven may glance, I pass.
In pastures, measureless as air,
  The bison is my noble game;
The bounding elk, whose antlers tear
  The branches, falls before my aim.

Mine are the river-fowl that scream
  From the long stripe of waving sedge;
The bear that marks my weapon's gleam,
  Hides vainly in the forest's edge;
In vain the she-wolf stands at bay;
  The brinded catamount, that lies
High in the boughs to watch his prey,
  Even in the act of springing, dies.

With what free growth the elm and plane
  Fling their huge arms across my way,
Gray, old, and cumbered with a train
  Of vines, as huge, and old, and gray!
Free stray the lucid streams, and find
  No taint in these fresh lawns and shades;
Free spring the flowers that scent the wind
  Where never scythe has swept the glades.

Alone the Fire, when frost-winds sere
  The heavy herbage of the ground,
Gathers his annual harvest here,
  With roaring like the battle's sound,
And hurrying flames that sweep the plain,
  And smoke-streams gushing up the sky:
I meet the flames with flames again,
  And at my door they cower and die.

Here, from dim woods, the aged past
  Speaks solemnly; and I behold
The boundless future in the vast
  And lonely river, seaward rolled.
Who feeds its founts with rain and dew;
  Who moves, I ask, its gliding mass,
And trains the bordering vines, whose blue
  Bright clusters tempt me as I pass?

Broad are these streams--my steed obeys,
  Plunges, and bears me through the tide.
Wide are these woods--I thread the maze
  Of giant stems, nor ask a guide.
I hunt till day's last glimmer dies
  O'er woody vale and grassy height;
And kind the voice and glad the eyes
  That welcome my return at night.
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