Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Mar 2015 namii
Mike Hauser
The Sage
 Mar 2015 namii
Mike Hauser
As fast as the poems pour in
He pours them right back out again
Spilling their contents all over the page
It's either madness or wisdom that controls this Sage

While some may spill out on the floor
It's carefully swept into piles later for
When this young poets heart starts to bleed
He's never quite sure what rhymes he will need

So as fast as the poems pour in
He takes what they say and pours them back out again
In the spilling of contents all over the page
This time knowing though it's madness that controls the pen of this Sage
I am from the starless sky.
From comforting blankets and warm cups of tea.
I am from the warm and quiet, the sometimes cold and stiff.
From the always filled with laughter.
The memory filled air, bright colors fuse.
It was dark silk, that I could not see.
I am from the form of a willow tree, perhaps the scent of a pine tree; the gentleness of a daffodil and the elegance of a tulips petals.
Wallowy branches of the willow tree, ***** scent of it's bark, the wiltedness of its form.
I'm from the gathering of family, greeting as if we were strangers, where sometimes we are separated
From Sharon and Covington, and the Hills'.
I'm from the bright flames in our chests.
From you are your own, and you hold the power.
I'm from the thought of something bigger, but never weighing my heart down.
I'm from mixed races, ones of different traditions. From the hardworking Africans, the dignified Caucasian, the intelligence of Asians. And many more
I am from life lessons, influences, bad memories, and the joy that some days have.
I am from what I dream to be, what I build myself to be.
I am me.
 Mar 2015 namii
Erin O'Malley
does the sun set
you on fire
do flaming tongues devour
clouds like gasoline
lick blue ablaze
under heavenly
oceans lie
blood
orange seas
if burst veins color scarlet
are violet streaks bruises

watching pain wash away below
do you wish to be rain
wonder why all
falling things can’t be beautiful
(poem from a long time ago)
 Feb 2015 namii
Mike Hauser
i took an empty envelope
and mailed it off to you
it told you of my feelings
more than a letter could ever do

please don't get me wrong
i'm really not that cold
i did try to write that letter
but the envelope itself said so much more
Next page