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The trouble with Hello Poetry
Is that I fall in love daily
Held under so many captivating spells
moulded and crafted by all walks of life
I find myself longing for all of you
the broken, the fallen, the bruised
the saints, the sinners
the righteous, the dispossessed
the holy, the unholy
all meet here
to speak of life
as they feel it
as only we know it.
Onwards, upwards
Downward spirals
kindness, cruelty
crashing through boundaries
bounding across oceans
carried on wistful sighs and broken dreams
The trouble with Hello Poetry
Is that it breaks my heart
Then brings me back to love again
All within an hour.
  Jun 2014 Melaina
Joe Cole
On this day 70 years ago they stormed across the sand
Boys of many nations to remove the tyrants hand
Heros all those boys so young who shed their blood for us
In that ****** fight for freedom

Across the sand they struggled neath a hail of shot and shell
Never glancing backwards as around them comrades fell
Fear was in their eyes, terror in their hearts
Many never made it and twas on foreign sand they died

Yes they died to give us the freedom that we have got this day
They died to free the world, for us they made the play
Boys from ever walk of life crossed the beaches there
Office clerks and farmers and the ones who cut our hair

Yes they were heroes all who gave their lives for us
But lets not forget the few who made it possible
The girls who made the shells, the men who built the tanks
They were the unsung heroes
They have also have earned our thanks

Without their dedication to the task they had in hand
Many more would have lost their lives on that shell torn blood stained sand
They to can hold their heads up high, they knew they did their bit
In bringing freedom to the masses when they broke the tyrants grip
Afternote... nearly all 4,400 allied soldiers died on those beaches 70 years ago today
  Jun 2014 Melaina
Shivam S
You talk of peace
then you slay me away
nocturnal are your keeps
and i am bright as day.
you call me freedom
and bind me in chains
this love of yours
brings nothing but pain
how can i be ever slaved
in cages that withers with age.
so many times i have told you this
you can't buy me love
just roses won't suffice
this affection of yours
is like a poison dart
shoots through air and breaks my heart
You grant me freedom
and chop off my wings
now flying and soaring
are out of my schemes.
this is what your love
has done to me
i am free and alone
but can't even dream.
#love #heart #dark #song
  Jun 2014 Melaina
Emily Dickinson
1637

Is it too late to touch you, Dear?
We this moment knew—
Love Marine and Love terrene—
Love celestial too—
  Jun 2014 Melaina
Forgotten Dreams
Dear Random Strangers,
            
Your sideways glances and whispered remarks have been noticed.
What you think has no effect actually means the world.
I would like to ask you...
No...Beg you...
To please stop judging me because of the marks on my wrist,
Allow me the chance to tell you my story,
Before you put the damaged book in the trash.
I know my corners are dog-ear,
Yes some pages are ripped,
And my cover is torn and scratched.
But looks can be deceiving.

Random Stranger, I know we haven't met
But every time one person disregards me,
It becomes more easy to believe I am trash,
And it makes me want to throw myself away...
  Jun 2014 Melaina
Will Rogers III
We were surely made to need each other.
To mentally crave company.
We were made to love each other,
To talk to somebody.

We can not do this alone.
Or we will go insane.
We can't just not be known,
And think we can ourselves sustain.

We were made to trade words,
To be with somebody.
To sing like birds.
And to accompany.

We were surely made to share our lives.
We were surely made to live our lives

Together.
[composed on September 7, 2012]
  Jun 2014 Melaina
breanna neal
Love
That feeling of always wanting to be around them.
Love
that feeling of waiting to see them, touch them, hear them.
Love
Knowing that theres something there but you cant point it out.
Love
wanting to not live with any doubt.
Love
Realizing that you cant have them pulls your heart strings out.
Hate
Feeling the pain that follows their actions.
Hate
Always trying to impress someone.
Hate
Being yourself and not being accepted.
Hate
Knowing what they could be thinking.
Hate
Finishing poems that have a special meaning.
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