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Sienna Burroughs
Bellingham, Washington    Feel free to leave pointers, opinions, or any thoughts\connections. Someone once told me poetry couldn't really be enjoyed until shared. So here it is.

Poems

Pink Taylor  Jan 2010
Waves
Pink Taylor Jan 2010
I wish I could help you
Fix you
I wish I hadn't done what I did to you
Maybe I should have just shut you out
from the very beginning
Run at the very first
Warning sign
But I didn't
I was a fool
I didn't know what I was getting into
Something more than friends
Something more than excitement
Even more than disloyalty
I brushed on the surface of love
And sent ripples through the water
That eventually turned into waves,
Roughs,
Tsunamis.
And they crashed on you,
Drown you.
I am at fault
For all of this.
But all I can do is repeat words like the waves.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry,
I'm sorry.
Volunteers, PSGs, Staffs
Executive Directors
And higher task allocators.

People pass by
Mic's were off
Facade was the banner of hope.

Voices all over the provinces
All with the same goal
Rightly urged with own reasons.

Two faces were present
Painted with grimace
Or with broaden smiles.

The screening was stern and severe
Camera rolls on with Level 2
"Next," "Give me another song"
The voice sounds no roughs of plead
A voice pushing rivals
To their very own frontiers

I was startled
So this is how they do it
Selection, great screenings
There're expectators
There're hope hurtles
*Dreams will sooner be pulled of.
Watching the Voice!!
Jonothan Lewis Aug 2013
No one looks
No one cares
At the poems I write each day
All I ask
Is for a word
Your thoughts on what I say

I slave away
Pen in hand
Trying to express
The way I feel
About some things
Not trying to impress

I write and write
I try my best
To put out a masterpiece
But time after time
Rhyme after rhyme
The dream is not yet complete

To look at some
Who get everything
People drooling over their roughs
The comments pile up
But my poems remain
Empty and untouched

Although I write
For no one else
It still would be very nice
For people to
Appreciate
The emotion in what I write

The worst part is
I'll never know
If I was ever any good
Because people could
Never take the time
To give my work a look

No one looks
No one cares
At the poems I write each day
All I ask
Is for a word
Your thoughts on what I say