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 Sep 2018 lena
Emily Dickinson
1583

Witchcraft was hung, in History,
But History and I
Find all the Witchcraft that we need
Around us, every Day—
 Mar 2018 lena
Sander S Vatn
Should I care about pride?
It crumbles in the end
Is my duty to stand?
Not while my legs can't hold me up
I just can't let anyone know it worries me

Will my ancestors accept me at their table?
Even if I leave their legacy in ash
Am I worthy to cary on form where they stood?
Not as long as I can't carry myself
I just can't let anyone know it worries me

Should I scratch out my eyes?
It means I won't cry any more
Is it possible to stop my tears?
Not as long as I am so weak
I just can't let anyone know it with worries me

Will it matter if I become dark and deranged?
Even if it makes me morally bad?
Am I possibly capable of doing anything good?
Not while I am myself
I just can't let anyone know that this is me
Just an old poem
 Mar 2018 lena
Sander S Vatn
On my teachers desk
There is a spoon
It is right besides the stapler
I can see it so easily
Why the hell is it there?
And why is it not a fork?
A translation of a poem i wrote in my Norwegian class
 Dec 2017 lena
Sander S Vatn
Trust
 Dec 2017 lena
Sander S Vatn
In my dreams you came
You asked if I remembered
I asked how I could forget
Our dances in the moonlight
The passion we had in the wilds
Your lips almost on my lips
Then black

In my happiest hour you came
You asked for my heart
I gave it to you with more in toe
Our eyes locked
The love we shared
Your light the brightest there is
Then  black

In my brightest moments you came
You asked me to open up
I removed my guard
Our bodies tight
The knife in my back
Your smile when I drew blood
Then black
My newest poem
 Dec 2017 lena
Lior Gavra
Am I just a wheel?
Consuming meals?
A speck in blue sea?
Bound by what I see?
Life amongst trees?
Breathing means free?

Am I my beliefs?
The truth I seek?
Flag of a country?
Defined by currency?
A liability?
Part of society?

Am I what you see?
The way you judge me?
The values you pick?
First impressions stick?
Norm defined by you?
Do I dare to be rude?

No...

I am who I choose.
I fill my own shoes.
I win when I lose.
I create my own views.
I see black beyond blue.
I pick me over you.

Who are we?
I am me.
Who are we?
Depends on you.
 Oct 2017 lena
Sander S Vatn
A man walked into the forest with darkness on his mind
With him he had a brand new rope
By the full moon I'll be born and by the full moon I'll die he said
And with tears in his eyes he prepared his rope
But the huntress was watching this night, just as any other
She made the moon shine brighter than ever
And with the light blinding him
He did not notice how bad his knot was
So he fell, still alive
His rope falling upon him
Swearing to return
Thus the man lived till next moon

A man walked into the forest with a broken heart
With him he had a rope
By the full moon I'll be born and by the full moon I'll die he said
And with a hole in his soul he prepared his rope
But the huntress was watching this night, just as any other
She made the forest sacrifice a branch for him to live
And with the moon hiding the weakness in the branch
He did not notice anything
So he fell, still alive
The branch hitting him hard
Swearing to return
Thus the man lived till next moon

A man walked into the forest as a last resort
With him he had a weak rope
By the full moon I'll be born and by the full moon I'll die he said
And with a sigh he prepared his rope
But the huntress was watching this night, just as any other
She prepared an arrow to save him at last
And with the moon guiding her shot
He did not see the strain in his rope
So he fell, wioth an arrow in his chest
The rope snapped and he got impaled
Not able to return
Thus the huntress freed him that moon
a new poem for once
 Oct 2017 lena
Lior Gavra
People power people, and pick their equals.
Ideas, decisions, and what becomes real.
Whether we stand in a line, elections.
Decide who continues on, selection.

The rich become rich only from people’s contributions.
Using their products, services, or through admiration.
Social media, likes, comments, a way to get attention.
Striving to break from conformity, this world’s automation.

Scream, shout, acting strange in public.
Shoot, attack, people turn on each other, frantic.
People become desperate, run out of options.
Detectives try to figure out motives, using caution.

Joker said it best, why so serious?
Wasting time on the small things, getting furious.
When you can turn it around, hear how they feel.
Truly care and help them heal.
Be a friendlier face, selfless.
To those hiding in their shells, helpless.

Maybe everything seems right for a while.
But this world is in chaos, and in need of smiles.

Why so serious?
Smile
 Oct 2017 lena
Emily Dickinson
1732

My life closed twice before its close—
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me

So huge, so hopeless to conceive
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.

— The End —