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 Sep 2014 Margaret
Xander King
For a generation labeled as "Reckless" we only seem to be reckless to ourselves.
Midnight thoughts.
 Sep 2014 Margaret
WickedHope
If I had it within me to run away,
I have too much to run from,
And nothing to run to.
So I 'm just stuck singing the same tune I guess.
 Sep 2014 Margaret
WickedHope
I should've
just              
   let                   
  you                  
choose                      
the song                        
we sung                       
...
For I miss the music.
 Sep 2014 Margaret
betterdays
her hands
once strong
and beautiful

now frozen
into gnarled
and sculpted
tree roots

by arthritis

all bent
and knobbed
aching joints

thier skin
marred with
wrinkles
and spots

stretched
taut over
aches
sagging
inbetween

nails
kept
trim

her hands
almost
but not quite
useless

is that
how
she feels
within.
my mothers friend.....
once a fine seamstress and
winner of medals for
exquisite embroidery
now in a nursing home
unable to do the simplest
of things...
her once dextrous
and clever hands
"gnarled clubs at the end
of my arms"(her words)
 Sep 2014 Margaret
Beaux
Poetry
 Sep 2014 Margaret
Beaux
Poetry
No other word is needed
Poetry is life
Poetry is love
Poetry is peace
Poetry is family
Poetry
No other word is needed
Poetry is death
Poetry is hate
Poetry is war
Poetry is pain
Poetry
No other word is needed
Poetry
 Sep 2014 Margaret
Morgan B
The raido turns on,
And I'm,
I'm that one girl that doesn't ,
Turn today's hits.
I'm the one,
The one that turns on the Bach suite,
Or escala ,
Or 2 cellos,
Or the Brandenburg concerto ,
Or the piano Guys,
Or philip wesley,
Or the old classic yo yo ma.
I kinda keep it hidden,
Not wanting the odd looks.
So I showed some people my music and as expected it was as if it were a foreign language.
Sure they new how to say bonjour, or merci,
But they didn't understand the beauty of the language,
The fluency or the romantic sound.
So I went to this camp for chamber music.
A room filled with child prodigies,
I stare in awe.
At the all these people,
Just like me,
I'm just like them,
But different.
For we share the love of instruments,
And the genius classical music that these composers wrote.
Yet we are different,
Seeing as how we all enjoy different instruments.
All of us at different levels,
But at the same sense of passion.
I am understood,
And I understand,
That's all a musician could ask for.
I'm not a prodigy lol
 Sep 2014 Margaret
Aquinas
Porcelain bodies
Breaking at the carefullest touch
Shatter silently
In a room filled with loud thoughts

We fall
Into each other
Our cracks
Getting wider
My sleep
Is in disorder
My eyes
Are heavier
My sentences
Are
Now
Shorter
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