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 Jul 2015 Marissa Hines
AndSoOn
I know,
I have friends.
Still,
I feel alone.
I know,
I kind of have a family.
Still,
They keep running away.
I know,
I am loved.
Still,
It keeps getting less and less.
I know,
There may be light left.
Still,
I leave in the shadow of my life.
I know,
I can still find positive aspects in life.
Still,
It keeps being harder and harder.

So,
Where do I go from now ?
I know,
I keep going backwards.
Still,
I hope the wind will turn,

And I may be truly smiling again,
In a few days, weeks, months or years.
 Jul 2015 Marissa Hines
J H Webb
I have no memories of the last time we touched
My finger tips are empty now; they're covered in dust
And my lips have forgotten how you tasted so sweet
You see I had to forget or to admit the defeat
The sorrows were endless and like the loneliest grave
no one came to see me; no one was that brave
And if I had of fallen those 7 floors that I'd planned
No one would have missed me - the loneliest man

All the nights were so endless and so empty and sad
And I cried all alone for any friend to be had
But no one could bare, face the endless parade
of the tears in my eyes; the lost promise we'd made
Days passed into months and months into years
Somehow I survived all my intimate fears
But if I could have completed that balcony fall
No one would have missed me - no one at all

And you weren't the only heart that I lost
There were so many friends that were part of the cost
I Still can't explain how I ever survived
Or if I even did, or if I'm still alive
Because who I was, is lost to me too
Just a memory of some other one that I knew
And if I had of closed my eyes and let go
No one would have missed me - no one that I know

J. H. Webb
 Apr 2014 Marissa Hines
Poetic T
If the pen is
mightier than
the sword.

Is the paper
it is wrote upon,
mightier than the man.
the feeling of dread was creeping
we were only sleeping
here on the soft green grass
god i hope it will pass
and man were singing that same old song
and i hope that we can get some people to sing along
and that we don't get caught up in the form
that we differ from the norm
i'm spurting out whatever comes out to mind
and your responding in kind
that insane babble that make up our conversations
it has no reservations
it makes my day
in more ways then i can ever say
a break from normality
a rapid change in my mentality
might as well enjoy it here
as were spinning on a little blue sphere
There is a field with tones of brown and gold,
with islands of bark, intermingled with their
stories of old.

As I hike through its grasses, I see signs of  the past,
when men and their families walked in tall grass.

They hunted and killed, they built houses with trees.
I could see all of this through the slow falling leaves.

It is time for solace, time to relax, as
I walk through this field and its history filled grass.

They had come by the many to create a new life by this
amazing field that I now hike. Each with a struggle,
each with a path, I can still see them as I
stand in this field of gold grass.

The seasons are changing, the colors now white as I
think of those people, their struggles and plight.

The field now empty and the lakes are like glass
as I stand alone in this field of tall grass.


http://www.charlesdennispoetry.netne.net

© 2009 Charles Dennis
She gracefully rose from the forest of despair.
With a **** pouring blood from her bare feet,
she fearfully stepped onto the blank canvas
tainting its ****** skin
with a stain made by the thick, crimson blood
that drained her delicate body of life.
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

— The End —