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 Jun 2015 Emily L
Emily Dickinson
386

Answer July—
Where is the Bee—
Where is the Blush—
Where is the Hay?

Ah, said July—
Where is the Seed—
Where is the Bud—
Where is the May—
Answer Thee—Me—

Nay—said the May—
Show me the Snow—
Show me the Bells—
Show me the Jay!

Quibbled the Jay—
Where be the Maize—
Where be the Haze—
Where be the Bur?
Here—said the Year—
 Jun 2015 Emily L
Eiliv Advena
Many poems I read seem so sad
The poems fills your eyes with tears
This doesn't mean the poems are bad
But sometimes a poem should be filled with cheer

There is so much beauty to write about
Not just lost love, fears, screams and shouts

A poem can be about
Flowers or trees
A poem can be about
Crystal blue seas

A poem can be about
a ring of smoke
Or a beautiful girl
Or about the beauty
We find in this world
 Jun 2015 Emily L
Skaidrum
How come it’s sadistically silent,
when all I want to hear
is the duet
of the moon and your
howl?

I’m no wolf,
but my do we both
have something in
common.


We both are star crossed lovers,
of the moon.


I may not entice myself to the law of time,
but it never meant
I stopped listening
at night.


And when you swear
upon a deathbed you know one day,
you’ll be slumbering in---
Just how many demons will be
hungry for your ashes?


Sure we have all have our
filthy little secrets
But since when are we
taking them to our graves?


And I don’t wanna whisper (help me,)
at the stroke of midnight.
‘Cause if you struck that **** clock 12 times,
Lord knows how many shadows

would feast--
On an empty girl at 12 a.m.


Hearts are savage creatures,
that’s why we keep them
caged in our
ribs.
(Even if our ribcages are secretly made of
dove feathers.
)

Keep the hounds in hell dear,
for me?



Because if that’s all your duet has to offer,
than keep your lyrics. (But if you can sing, make me want to listen.     Wolf girl.)
Movement No. 1.
Written on December 31rst of 2014.

You sunk your fangs into my heart
how does the moon taste?
Know that I will love you
until time itself meets it's maker.


© Copywrited
Sun is complaining,
Rain gathers scent,
Wetness remaining,
In a town after lent,

Fog rises above the hills,
Smoking cottages dreaming now,
Stars wait in puddles of sill,
Fish in the seas are teeming, tow,

The moon waves in a hurry,
To hide from the dawn neat,
Crows fly and scurry,
Birds are spry, sleepy,

Wading on lawns,
Like worms in garden,
Or grasses moor tawny,
My heart is drowned,

In the breadth of a snail,
Is a lustrous ocean town,
By the ocean that sails,
In my place which I renown.
 Jun 2015 Emily L
HRTsOnFyR
Here I spin
Upon a wire
Strip my flesh
And stoke the fire
Bent so low
My soul breaks higher
Of empty hearts
and words
I tire :'(
Trying to keep my sanity. NOT an easy task these days.
 Jun 2015 Emily L
R L Doe
Bicycle
 Jun 2015 Emily L
R L Doe
You are a bicycle,
your rims are rusted;
Rusted to the overblown rubber tire.

Your chain is broken.
We've tried to splice it so many times,
but I'm running out of links and I'm broke.

You broke me, you ran over my foot.
No apologies. Only the reminders you leave like leaches.
"Well, I told you. I'm a bike."

Well, I told you not to hurt me.
Then you deliberately sought out to run over my foot.
Then ask me "Will you pump my tires, will you oil my chain."

I do these things for you, without being asked or appreciated.
Do them because you're my bicycle, and I appreciate you.

For getting me places, and knocking me down
to give me bruises, bumps, and scars
Scars that remind me, I am not a bicycle.

I am the flesh and blood of the world.
I am not a hollow iron cast;
My innards are in motion with my mind and heart.

I gotta stop pumping the tires on this bike, and toss it.
This bicycle gave me tetanus from it's peddles trying to run away.

Stop cutting up my ******* feet, bike.
About a lover and a friend
 Jun 2015 Emily L
Day
For now
 Jun 2015 Emily L
Day
Someday* I''ll wear a genuine smile,
but for *now
,
I'll just wear this one.
smile depression sadness cut pain hurt thoughts
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