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 Nov 2014 Rachel Ueda
Àŧùl
I see the raindrops fall,
They drench everything...
I remember you in rainfall,
You are the only one for me..
I miss you, you are my missus,
Rest of the world is incomplete.
My HP Poem #688
©Atul Kaushal
 Nov 2014 Rachel Ueda
brooke
the cold came
upon us gently
a hand to sweep
away the summer
and we cleared the
table willingly so
the wood could
reach mahogany
we are all lit up
in candlelight
with lips as
soft and red
as cherries
so smooth
you want
to kiss the
first person
who calls you



beautiful.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
A disturbing lack of interest
has risen to the surface
struggling for purpose while
school work seems worthless
unimpressed by the standards set
or perhaps just pensive
wondering where the road leads next
the feeling that textbooks
only hold answers for paper tests
not physical, substantial assessment
That ****** diploma a chain
keeping my brain and body locked
to this spot, this location
when my very essence yerns for motion
for some cosmic lotion to apply
to this burned romantic
helpless, maybe, but awakened
none the less
even if I can't be bothered to
laze over homework
two weeks and it'll be no work
to fall from the sky
back into my old house
and maybe
her
eyes
Daniel Magner 2014
 Nov 2014 Rachel Ueda
Àŧùl
A long poem is
Me...

A longer poem is
You and me..

The longest poem is
We both together.

Under the stark starry night
Listening to winds fight..

Our eyes staring into each other
Together we are lost in poetry...
My HP Poem #689
©Atul Kaushal
 Nov 2014 Rachel Ueda
Kelly Rose
He touched her soul
oddly making her
feel whole

Her dreams fulfilled

The gentle breeze
reminding her of
his caress that teased
across her body

Beauty
blossoms
within her

Yes, dreams fulfilled
as her ghost lover
whispers
of his love
11/10/2014
 Nov 2014 Rachel Ueda
Traveler
I LEARNED TO RUN WHEN I WAS YOUNG
FROM A WORLD OF EVIL, AND THEN SOME
THROUGH WICKED SKIES THAT STAINED THE NIGHT'S
I TORE THE FABRIC TO PEEP THE SIGHT

GATHERING SHADOWS WATCHING ME BLEED
FLASHES OF PHANTOMS WHO LONG TO FEED
WITHIN THOSE NIGHTS MY SIGHT WAS FORMED
WITHIN THOSE NIGHTS MY HEART WAS TORN
Traveler Tim
re to 02-17
Where else can a poet stay
a secret space in his poetry
The best get away
Hidden from this crude ugly world
In the name of creativity
Be comfortable with words of arts

A poet hides in a metaphor
Unveiled the untold...
Unapologetically figurative...
Being complacent in his secrecy...
In making each stands

The beauty of poetries....
The poet  bets his fortune
In each magical words
In every stanza.......
His breath...
His life...
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