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 Nov 2012 Samuel
Enya Costa
I can not let you braid my hair,
I do not love you yet.

You can muss it and flip it and twist it around
I can undo that with a shake of my head.

Hand over hand,
Strand over strand,
Weaving something out of nothing
Making it your own.

You braid sloppily.
I know.
I've heard.

And a messy, knotted, tangled braid
Can be hard to unravel
Chunks of hair ripped out
Fingers trapped in knots.
It's an unpleasant business.

So you can not braid my hair
Until I'm ready
For it to stay there.
 Nov 2012 Samuel
August
Thoughts #1
 Nov 2012 Samuel
August
The thing about poetry, and anything for that matter that you create, is that it's never inadequate. As long as you write, or paint, or create music, or whatever with love and the actual want to do it, not just because it is socially likeable, is okay. Everyone's poetry is equal in completely different ways. Mine is not better than yours and yours is not better than mine type of mentality goes a long way. Because there isn't a way to compare them, because they are sole entities by themselves, as long as you put purpose into them. So, that automatically destroys the possibility of yours not being good enough. Because it is good enough, because you made it, and you meant it when you made it. Only a fool would tell you that your work isn't good enough for that exact reason.
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
 Nov 2012 Samuel
PoetWhoKnowIt
There's one small thing I wish               the infinite horizon that lies there
                                                   To see
 When you're standing here           there's nothing greater to contemplate
                                             With me
      To feel that brilliant abyss                       across splendid land and sea
                                                     Shining out
      As within those eyes I used                nothing more and simply grand
                                                        To know
Chief grandiose and simplicity                           those eyes I loved so
                                                          To know
  Beauty aqueous and of earth                are feelings of my heart's abyss
                                                  Shining out
Thoughts so constant- effortlessly            you stand close inadvertently  
                                                 ­      With me  
   Be the infinite horizon I want                    I wish too many small things
                                                          ­  To see
Tell me what ya think.
I don't usually like to dictate how to read my poetry... but: The middle words are the end of the line in front and the beginning of the second line. The right side is to be read middle+second after reading the first+middle.  If you read carefully... the words of the lines before the first "to see" and after the second are alike, along with before "with me" and after the second and so on.
 Nov 2012 Samuel
Lauren Rose
Sheets
 Nov 2012 Samuel
Lauren Rose
I'm staying in this bed
Till the sun goes back down
I'll lie in these sheets
And wish you were here
Laying next to me
I want to fall asleep
In your arms
And not be afraid
Of the darkness
That surrounds me
Sweet kisses, silver under moonlight.
Soft lips with an open invitation
Memories, re-memories, repeat
Play, rewind, re-play, repeat.
Slight smiles display gratitude and infatuation.
Hands remain polite, show respect.
A quest for the holy grail – the heart.
No war for the body.
Soaring on serotonin,
Can we do this again?
Intimidating intimacy
I’ll wait for you to put a ring on my finger,
Not a ****** on your *****.
Intimate intimidation
Assertiveness, not aggressiveness, is a quality fit for a
Prince. Your highness,
Dost thou want thy queen?

Seems even marriage has fallen under the blanket of
Fashion over Function.
Wedding rings mean more than wedding vows.
Gone are the days in which marriages fueled society, and
Function before Fashion.
Cheers to the weeping ages of an ill generation.
If only love lasted as long as 14 karat gold.
 Nov 2012 Samuel
Seán Mac Falls
Asleep with my love,
I wake, she is in dream— still,
Conversation runs.
 Nov 2012 Samuel
Nicole Pain
I want your days to be filled with manic yellows,
florescent pinks and wild, wet blues.
I want you to live and tell me all about it.
Be a storyteller, I want to enjoy you.
Be an entertainer, I want to love you.
But you're calm, serene.
You balance out my madness.
Two of me and we explode,
two of you and we fall off the edge of the earth.
 Nov 2012 Samuel
Jessie
Two Shits
 Nov 2012 Samuel
Jessie
Those nights in which I stumble to bed,
Makeup still intact,
Jeans and shoes remaining,
Uncombed, unbrushed,
Unwritten and undefined...

Bring on the days
In which I don't give two ***** about anything.
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