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 Dec 2014 Lisa
curlygirl
Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.
 Dec 2014 Lisa
Emily Reider
I remember the day she let him in
It was the same day I lost her
Our after school phone calls
Turned into ones at 3am
Where she was crying
Too ****** up to know I was on the other end
Bragging about accomplishments
Became bragging about the new things she sniffed
Talking about kissing boys
Became talking about *** she barely recalled

I remember the day she let him leave her veins
It was the same day she was mine again
She called me telling me about rehab
And I swear the light
That had disappeared in her voice
Was back
Tears shed from my cheeks
My beautiful mess was back
Please stay
 Nov 2014 Lisa
Erenn
He was running on air
Jumping on constellations
He's like Peter Pan
Only this Peter is tall and growing
He reached out his hand 
And asked her to dance
She wondered why she didn't decline
Strangers that could fly caught her eye

She felt his warm fingers 
Their fingers clenched 
As he held her hand tightly
They flew above the skies
She felt so alive 
Her agonies that she suffered
Gone like it was never there

He suddenly grabbed something
She wondered what it could be
He opened his gentle hands
And the brightest little star glows
Like the northern lights in the vast skies
Like fireworks exploding in a snowglobe

She touched it & she fell
Awoke and disappointed
Her dream didn't last till the end
The boy whose name was not Peter
Might be back in neverland
And the Little Star now vanished
**Only fragments of dreams
That will never cease to exist
I freaking love Peter Pan ever since I was young. I'd always wanted to be like him. I cried when I didn't get the part as Peter in a musical.hha I really wanted to be like him. Not a heartbreaker like him, but to never ever grow up and live in adrventures! So this is my interpretation of him I wrote in a poem:)
Got inspired by one of my friends here.
Orked Saerah. Gave me an idea and inspiration to write this piece.
Not my best work. But I love this one.
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