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 Dec 2017 Max Vale
Emily Miller
The texture of the glass is rough with blemishes,
convex with swells of adipose tissue
and spotted with stray hairs.
The occasional splotchy flush
on the sallow complexion
is just enough to suggest life
but not in the right locations
to suggest beauty.
The glass sneers.
The glass snarls.
It takes handfuls of its dull, lanky hair
and yanks,
as if with one tug, the entire image could come to a screeching halt
like the break line on a train.
It's a hideous image,
but it doesn't frighten like a vision of a monster.
Instead,
it insights a painful tug in the chest cavity,
an ache,
a slow, throbbing pang
that lengthens with every glance.
Nothing feels quite as horrible
as the realization
that even if the glass breaks,
comes to the floor
and splinters,
shatters...
Its duplicate will still exist.
In me.
 Dec 2017 Max Vale
ava ree
We all stood for a loaf of bread .
We shared it and we had enough for the last time.
We played and laughed. That was the last time .
We sang and dance in that barren land. and that was the last time .
We wished and made fun of death , and that was last time .
The sky suddenly lit up !!
Everyone stood in their places and bread loaf with their hand ,and that was last time.
The curse of heaven tortured bread and love.
I stood up and look around ..
Everyone died after millions of stars fell.
I took a loaf of bread with me and completed my way..
I wrote this poem for war. I hope peace spreads
 Dec 2017 Max Vale
zora
He said Your name

as He reached for me, reached for the child
who He says unbuckled His pride and knelt
with sin and sweat (or is that blood?) on her back.
His reverence pleasured itself against the length of her throat
she left her mouth agape,
gagged to submission
but he wouldn't know the better.

and as He sunk deeper, wounded me, and sunk deeper still,
soul scorched under his Divinity and Damnation,

He said Your name.

in that moment, oh God oh God oh God
did You forgive Him?
trigger warning: ****, csa, religion
i wrote this a long time ago, but no matter what i do, it doesn't feel like i can say enough.
When she is
over joyed
by love-filled emotions,
her words delicately
dance upon the page,

When she is
brokenhearted,
disheartened,
and overwhelmed by darkness,
her words fall heavy
and splatter all over the stage.

When her wings
are raised in flight,
it is love,
singlehandedly,
lifting her up,
ever so gracefully,

When she is
spinning around,
out of control
with two left feet,
it is pain and anxiety
forsaking her--disappointingly.

Her poetic dances
are well known
for being freestyled,
erratic and spontaneous,

Be it a classical ballet,
or an explosive routine,
her artistic expression
is always crafted  
and delivered
with style and finesse.


By Lady R.F. (C)2017
 Dec 2017 Max Vale
Taija
Green eyes
 Dec 2017 Max Vale
Taija
Not even the ever changing colors of autumn can compare to your eyes.
Even when every plant dies, your eyes still glisten as if they were a raindrop rolling off a leaf in the spring.

t.h.
 Dec 2017 Max Vale
Valsa George
Marooned in the island of loneliness
Shadows of delusion confront her
In a stormy sea, she got ship wrecked
And the sea had robbed everything from her

What unanticipated change comes over
When people let one down
What shocking realization it is
To know that there is nobody to care

She is now a drying brook
That has once been a river in spate
A deflated balloon, unable to soar high
A blind bird that cannot see a dawn
Nor sing a song to wake the sleeping world
She bears scars like deep cuts
On an ill maintained tarmac road

Vacantly she looks into the far horizon
When broken shards of moonlight
Paint pictures of dark demons around her
She screams in silence for someone
To come to her rescue, to lift her up

As a bird that with nightfall returns
To a tree to call out its solitude to the stars
She sits there alone, terribly alone,
Not knowing to whom she should call out!

Will the stars keep her company?

Tomorrow when another day of uncertainty breaks out
She wonders if she should wake up and greet the dawn
With the hope that her pain would go into remission
And her frozen inside would thaw by itself in time

Or end her life as soundless, as inconsequential
As a droplet let down from a blade of grass!
One of the greatest cravings of man is for love and companionship . Here I try to trace the feelings of one who feels utterly deserted in life!
 Dec 2017 Max Vale
blythe
Even the most beautiful flower
Needs to be daily showered with water
For it to grow lovelier
Or else it will wither.

Just like our dreams and aspirations,
We need daily inspirations
For us to keep going
Or else our hearts will stop hoping.
Let us make our dreams come true. Gather every bit of inspiration we can get so we can still pursue and fight for what we really long to have. Don't give up, don't lose hope! :)
 Dec 2017 Max Vale
Cara May
As days passed by
kissing death seems like a great escape
as my soul is too weary to carry on
too lonely to live.
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