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 Jul 2014 Margaret
DanielGage
At the core of
the fire
there is ice
You've decided its there,
But you don't really care
Because
you're warm right now
And
in the end you will freeze
I guess its the relief you receive
*Was it worth it?
This poem for my dad. May he never read this.
 Jul 2014 Margaret
Smudged Ink
my blue eyes are an oceans tide
they are both the calm and the storm

my blue eyes to some are just blue
but looking closer you will find much more

behind my eyes is a story
one that has been kept in for years

behind my eyes are secrets
that have been waiting to get out

these eyes see the world in a different way
making pictures into thoughts
and putting people into boxes

these eyes are not what they should be
and they are not what they appear to be

to some people my blue eyes are beautiful
to me they just remind me of what’s inside
Life* often speaks in rhythm & blues
whispering trumpets to bended ears, while reminding us
that smiles belong only in photographs; and tears
behind the curtain of an indifferent face

We walk fine
lines, between tragedy
and genius, lines so rarely straight
we seek balance in mediocrity
and solitude in unfinished lifes

We become incomplete puzzles
forcing squares into circular places
by tearing away pieces of the whole
and conforming to the empty spaces

some things were never meant to be changed

We place people into boxes, neatly organizing them
by the
labels* we give their cracks and flaws
seldom ever realizing that *broken has a beauty all it's own
, and...

*some things were never meant be mended
You
and I are
more than just
serendipitous, we are
the culmination of two paths
two lovers who found each other
in a binary universe that swallows most
hearts whole and causes wayward souls to lose
sight of hope's shore
 Jul 2014 Margaret
wordvango
bitten
 Jul 2014 Margaret
wordvango
I have been devout and without
an avid follower of me
and nowhere found
the bed without a flower
after breaking ground
I grow
to glisten though
my distance closing
gentle breath show
my distance from the sun
there have been no answers
from doubt
i bleed and am blind still
the show we share
shadows forgotten
paths run walking or grown
the power is all
to quiet moments trust
to meet in far off oceans
where watching a sense
quite like fantasy
meets poetry and motion.
 Jul 2014 Margaret
wordvango
My love
 Jul 2014 Margaret
wordvango
My love,
I will never enslave
your red, hair
in a jar of (firefly light)
because upon my sleeping
all the firefly's I have caught
(quit breathing
the holes in the lid perhaps too small)?
or was I too late to release them?

So I will never enshroud
your scarlet glow
(so wherever you may go)
your freedom
breathe, (breathe).
 Jul 2014 Margaret
Austin Heath
Home, don't tell anyone
I'm gone,
I got tired of hearing about
the slow recession of everything.
I got tired of being around.
Pockets full of change and
if I lost my wallet,
who would worry?
Home is where I want it to be,
anywhere, it's where I keep all my fears.
It's where I am when I need trouble
simply existing.

Home, don't come in my shelter in shelter,
I've got posters waiting to fall down;
Like my figures are disappointed,
my banners are crumbling.
I'm covered in a film from the heat.
I'm sleeping in my skin,
if I can make it in time.
Where I want it to be.
Where I keep all my fears.
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