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 Oct 2014 Marolle
Md HUDA
In Inferno, in a lurid inferno, smell of the dead bodies
Extreme lustful, famished, ferocious, poisonous worms are in a procession of merriments.
Swarthy, in grave swarthy, a sightless life, listening only lamentation
Coming, someone is coming towards me to help but no intention.
Having seen the face of light very little light, Brother, listen to me, “we are two souls in one.”
I see death through the death “Will you save my son?”
                          
“ Oh Mom, why are you lamenting? Why are you smacking your heart? I feel pain for that
May I get a few drops of water? I will not beg yours milk, I am not frightened by death.
From an Inferno I have witnessed another inferno
Swimming in the ocean of blood instead of crying, I am the bravado.
See mom- no tears in my eyes; get up mom to see your child’s face
You came alone? I can’t find my father’s face in this death’s race.
I will sleep mom, I will see the world through my death
In the eternal world I will call you “Mom” this is my eternal oath.
In Bangladesh an 8 storied building collapsed and more than 4 thousand people were working in that building. Thousand people died and 2500 were saved. A mother died while she was giving birth of a child in that inferno. Before the child could see his mother he died as well.
 Oct 2014 Marolle
Md HUDA
She comes, and she goes but she never stays
She looks, she smiles, but she never speaks.
I look at her; she is a beauty of forever,
She brightens the way like a shining star.
She walks like a snake sweetly,softly and silently
her open hair flying in the open air
I know, does she know?
What a beauty she can make!
 Oct 2014 Marolle
Md HUDA
I never smoked
Since you left me to bestow me rigorous ache
I pressed one pipe amid my two lips
Then I was about to lit the pipe with a gaslight  
All on a sudden your face emerged from the pipe
I stopped! Tell me how could I burn your Beautiful face?
 Oct 2014 Marolle
Md HUDA
Soon  I will be done with the ledger of my adolescence
The sun is still in his puberty, though older than me
The moon is still in her perfection, a blessed queen
I have bejeweled you with the sweat of my love
And have garlanded your beauty with rubies and pearls….
Today you are the ocean of love,
And I the sunny heat of summer.
You came that day, Expecting for your arrival
Sun poured shower of anguish on my amethyst Panjabi
Out of the blue You appeared like an expected spring
In her colorful curcuma domestica costumes.
Your locks  under the veil of spring’s yellow umbrella
Still counting the days, the nights, the ongoing time,
Sometimes my heart in quest of a Time –machine….
We took  the weight off our feet under a Blessed tree
I touched your hand joining my two palms
The cold current of  spring was soaring  there
My ill-fated heart could not Kiss your "Petals of Blood"
I drowned, I drowned in my own made ocean……..
curcuma domestica - yellow
 Oct 2014 Marolle
Pax
Unique
 Oct 2014 Marolle
Pax
I’m not ugly,
I’m unique.
Same way as you are.


© Pax
a quote
true beauty of just being you.
to everyone who thinks they're ugly, like me, a reminder to self.
 Oct 2014 Marolle
Hannah Bauer
Is it sad that sometimes,
I want to be terribly injured
to see if people care?
Thinking while talking with
friends on a balcony,
wondering if I get pushed off
accidentally, what would they
feel?
Think?
Would there be fear in their eyes?
Would they run down the stairs
to see if I was alive?
Would they panic and wonder
what the world is going to be like without me?
Or would they feel... nothing?
Would they not even care?
If I survived the fall and came back
to them in a wheelchair,
would they help me with my things?
Would they stand by my side
and help me navigate the crowds?
Would they feel guilty and
concerned?
Would they worry?
Or would they watch me
alone.
Struggling to get past people
and desperately trying to hold
onto my belongings.
And walk away.
Would they hide?
Would they scorn?
*Would they care?
 Oct 2014 Marolle
Hannah Bauer
Almost every day,
I am fake.
Not in my beliefs,
or my personality,
or even my body.
My emotions are fake.
The ones that I choose to display, that is.
Or, I should say, the mask that I choose to wear.
A mask?
What does my mask look like?
Well, it looks something like this.
Strong. Happy. Confident. Independent.
In control. Smiling. Lighthearted.
Life is good.
No one would guess that all of this is fake.
And do you want to know the
thing that I wish most
for people to do?
I wish that they would see behind
the mask.
I wish there was someone who can
see my true feelings.
Who can see the depression in my smile.
The anger in my silence.
The weakness in my confidence.
The frailty in my strength.
The need in my independence.

I need someone who can not only
see these things,
but is willing to talk to me about it.
Whose willing to not just
watch me wilt away
and force myself
to struggle on my own.
I need someone who will slap
me in the face and tell me that
I am not alone.
I don't have to fight this by myself.
I don't need to hide.

But,
there is no one like that.
Not for me.
All that people see is
the happy, benevolent girl who
always smiles at everyone she sees.
I need someone who can
see the expertly concealed anguish
behind the constant, cheerful mask.
I need someone to rip that smile away and show me that I don't have to hide.

Yet,
I fear for that person to come.
I desperately need my mask to stay in place.
I can't let people down.



I can't let down their expectations.
I can't show them that I really am not happy.
I can't disappoint them.
And so, I desperately wish no one
will see behind my mask.
It's a paradox.
I need someone to see
yet I fear for my life
if they do see.
I wish my mask would burn in
*Hell.
something that I've been feeling lately. I always smile at people in the hallways and I am always polite. But sometimes, I just want to sit in a corner and cry. Yet, I feel like I can't do that because people expect me to be happy. So, I continue living life with my mask on.
 Oct 2014 Marolle
Hannah Bauer
My Dad once told me that I
would meet my love poem.
You know the guy that all
the songs sing about?
The one that all the poems
write about?
That guy that everyone
seems to know
but me.

Daddy said that my guy
would love me just as
those poems and
songs said he
would.

That I would be that lucky girl
receiving his love and understanding.

Will the late nights staying up
listening to love songs
and reading poetry,
dreaming of the
man who will
hopefully
be wed
to me
be worth it?

Or will those nights be a total waste?


*Did Daddy tell the truth?
 Oct 2014 Marolle
A C Leuavacant
You're the hope
The only bit of it
I can see it in the blinding daylight
I can see it through gorse bushes
The only patch of green left
In the burnt out break where my heart is

And at this stage I've learned that waiting does nothing
So I wish you'd hurry up
Don't let me get caught up in the past again
I've made that mistake more times than I'd care to admit
It will destroy me eventually
It's already tried to rewire the voices in my head
convince me that I've been someone I'm not
Challenge my old fondness with silence

Yes, love is strange  
I have long since thought that something a lot more simple could easily take it's place
A vase filled with roughly cut flowers
or anything as peaceful
 Oct 2014 Marolle
andenrangs poet
jeg vågner her
på mit yndlings sted
badet i morgensol
og kan dufte resterne
af chanel og rødvinen
fra i går og
hjemmebagte boller
og nymalet kaffe
til at starte dagen på
jeg kan høre dig grine i
køkkenet og den ring
af ætsende syre der havde dannet
sig om mit hjerte forsvinder
som var du helende medicin
følelsesløs
havde jeg været så længe
at jeg helt havde glemt
hvordan det var at
føle
og hvorfor det jeg føler
lige er for dig ved jeg ikke
men lige nu er det okay
ikke at vide og bare nyde
for det er
så ubegribeligt
men det er okay
så jeg lukker øjnene
og sover ubesværet
videre mens lyden
og følelsen af dig
og dit dyrebare nærvær
svæver hen over mig
som en beskyttende skygge
og snart vil vi
drikke dagens første kop
kaffe på terrassen og
det hele vil stadig
forekomme mig
så ubegribeligt
...
men det er okay
så længe du er her
jeg ved ikke hvorfor og hvordan men jeg føler noget siden 87 dage
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