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Madeline Kennell Aug 2018
When I was a child living in our tiny apartment
Under the stars with the people and animals and in the dust
The power would crack out and things would stop whirring
And Papa would bring in Andrea Boccelli the angel that soothes my every fear
To this day l'ultimo re is a comfort just as it was in the stifling heat when all my senses were shut down
He filled my ears with beauty and I didn't need to see anything in the dark
Because my ears saw light dancing through my head
I treasure this in my heart
Like a much needed embrace
Or the perfect words
It's just what I have always needed
To remind me I come from the dust and the stars
Madeline Kennell Oct 2017
324 square miles

and 94 vacant

we build up our city to great lengths

but the majority of our population

poor, impoverished black families

cannot afford to eat at a tapas bar art gallery
Madeline Kennell Sep 2017
it feels as if...

if i was drowning

they would just make sure

her boat wasn't leaking
Madeline Kennell Sep 2017
I hold onto the hope that someday I will see them. Those lights drug across the sky by a goddess with her water colour brush. Greens and blues and pinks that dance a star's song into being while the sky stretches and wakes up and prepares to host this fit of brilliance. When people down below lift their eyes to the heavens. Irises are filled and reflect a dazzling champagne of pastels which God has created. He wants to say 'I love you' and could think of no better way than this expression. Where snow gives way to reflective ice and the shiny sparkles slide silently through the night. It is the visual of the heart when in love, and it lights up the night like the first beautiful moment of a stage being brought to life. The conductor lifts his hands and a radiant explosion surrounds the audience. Music is not needed and none will ever accurately describe it. Few will see this spectacularity because the auroras only reveal themselves to the minds that wander and the hands that reach towards heaven.
  Sep 2017 Madeline Kennell
grace
we are the wild youth.

with lungs full of ocean water and ribs stained red with sunsets and roses

we have lilacs and honey dripping from our frozen fingertips

with watermelon smiles and candle wax eyes, we pull at our star dusted skin

and howl to the moon.

and with heads full of midnight and our veins swimming in twilight,

we dream our big dreams and pull down the stars, begging for our wishes to

come true
thank you for the daily! im so thankful and in awe of all the lovely feedback, i cant thank you all enough
Madeline Kennell Sep 2017
There's something about walking away... Head held high and you sigh as your tears have been dried and the colourful in your cheeks and lips gets pinker. Nobody could have told you what to do because they aren't you. And what once felt so right and perfect now is clearer and less of a blur. If you had kept going the picture would only have been a smudge on the wall of your room, causing the drywall to crack and then grey. It's the colour of those hours blocked out to exert energy then crash as if you've just had the emotions ****** out of your fingers and toes. Maybe it would have been remedied with some growing or a little water and sun. But boys need more than water and sun to bloom. The soil was just too authoritarian and your wise words were in a language all to unfamiliar and confusing to decode. But for him, nothing could be done if it wasn't for him. So you kiss that hand goodbye and simultaneously let go as it is ****** away. And as you are walking away, you are walking into a cool breeze and a sunny day with a brisk sun and soft grass and happy voices ready to welcome you in the distance. And it is less walking away than walking to something brand new. You're being welcomed.
Happy relief breakup confidence
Madeline Kennell Jul 2017
It's so old, and the beauty of a hundred years of happy memories and lives lived to the fullest is seeped into the dark and creaking wood beams of this home. In the fireplace crackles a soft warmth that keeps the bitter cold at bay from this room. Sometimes, it still tickles your nose and playfully pinches your ears, painting pink across your cheeks. But this is the only gentle reminder that outside the frosted window, snowflakes fall in soft piles against your doorstep, dancing and singing in their own special winter way. Inside is only merriment, where the wine is poured and the stuffed mushrooms are devoured slowly and languidly, each bite tasting of a melody. Around you on the walls, painted flowers and snapshot memories smile down on you as your friends laugh and sing and dance and break out the fiddle for a folk tune. After the wine comes the coffee where your hand gently holds a saucer and the cup almost never leaves your mouth. Everywhere you look, there is a joyous friendly face with a contentment of time about them, not anxious of a thing. Furry friends circle the floor in search of scraps, which they were given in a moment of weakness. And as you feel the warmth begin in your toes in your socks on the creaking wooden floor, as it travels up your spine and into your head and fingers, you know this is where you are meant to be. Here, surrounded by friends, with love draping his arm peacefully about your waist and laughing along with the rest, only every once in a while glancing over with a look that you know is meant to assure you, "Someday, this will be all we get, and it will be enough."
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