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Patrick Leduc  Sep 2010
Patrick Leduc Sep 2010
Beautiful Emma!
Amazing Emma!
Fairest maiden of them all
I do not have a diamond ring to offer
but I give you my heart

Lovely Lady Emma!
Magnificent Emma!
Unnaturally kind and superb
You are the sun in this world of darkness
You shine through the clouds of despair
To show your radiance to us;
To me

I love you beyond words
You are majestic, selfless
Never cease to be, you Jewel of the Heavens
You Angel
You Sweet Lady
Never stop being you
Esther  Jun 2013
Miss Little Emma
Esther Jun 2013
Miss little Emma
Five years old
She has no problems
With her body and hair like gold

Miss little Emma
Eight years of age
Came home crying
They pushed her in the sage

Miss little Emma
Twelve years old
They told her crush she liked him
She didn't think they were cold

Miss little Emma
Young and fifteen
He broke her little heart
After she gave him everything

Miss little Emma
Eighteen and old
She looks back on her school years
Feeling oh so bold

Miss little Emma
Didn't have friends
She was bullied the whole time
There was no end

Miss little Emma
Was told to die
She makes the last cut
After she says "goodbye"
Emma Chatonoir Mar 2014
I call her Emma
But she is me
She is more
Than I'll ever be
She comes out
When bad things go down
She thrives when she
Sees others frown
Sadness is her motivation
Tears are her fuel
Finding beauty
In being treated so cruel
Everything is a lesson
There's beauty in the dark
She points it out
Even when it's not stark
Blood red her favorite color
She paints it where she can
But to most who know her
They aren't a fan
They tell her to be happy
Stop dwelling on the bad
Tell her to be
Something other than sad
With her lasting
Diagnosis of depression
She looks to find
Her only exception
They come in the form
Of someone who sees
Just like she does
Lets her act as she may please
They try to make her happier
And they've had success
But it's still obvious
She's in lots of distress
She thinks she knows the world
Cause she has seen it all
Many have tried to shoot her down
But no one's made her fall
Emma is titanium
Her strength above most
To help anyone she knows
She'll do anything, almost
Emma is beautiful
Emma is kind
Emma is someone
That lives in my mind
Her strength is something
I am jealous she has
Cause I don't see the bright side
As quickly as that lass
She is Emma Titan
Titaniemme in the lists
And she is better than anyone
That actually exists.
My muse
John MacAyeal Jun 2012
Every employee's name was listed in the address field
Except for one
The one I never noticed
That we never noticed

We all marched into the meeting room as ordered
Found the CEO on an extra tall stage
To tell us
"Today is Emma McGurk's last day
But she says it's the first day
Of her tenure
As Director of Forecasting of Unintended Consequences
She's not going
So I need all of you, all 300 of you,
To help me terminator."
(Or was that terminate her?)

So we gave each other Brady Bunch nods
I had to look up to make eye contact (or is that I contact?) with superiors
Then we marched to
The cubicle of Emma McGurk
Me remembering what Santa Ana had said:
"With a few hundred more men like the San
Patricios, Mexico would have won the battle."

And the battle wasn't to be won by us
It was to be won by Emma McGurk
The CEO tried to move her
Ten of us tried to move her
Then one hundred
And then all three hundred
Even I made an effort
But she wouldn't budge

So we had to move...
To another building
Hearing that Emma McGurk was still ensconced
In the position existing only in her noggin
Until finally the old building had to be imploded
A fifth-grader winning the honor of triggering
That dusty downfall of Emma McGurk's cubicle
And the building that sheltered it

It wasn't until Signing Day Eve
That I saw her again
Pouring ink at a haiku-con
"The pay wouldn't be that bad," she told me.
"If it was by the snicker instead of the word."
Lex  Jan 2018
My Favorite Emma
Lex Jan 2018
You are my favorite Emma that exists

You are no matchmaker
like Jane Austen might suppose
you don't succeed in life
by helping the love lives of bros

You are no blonde
like Emma Roberts is
you have brown hair and beautiful eyes
you are crazy smart, some sort of a ****

You are no dancer in a musical
like Emma Stone
You are more of a marvelous human
who has a mind of her own

You aren't a wizard
like Emma Watson was
you are the kind of person
that is nice just because

Despite what they have said
Despite what they say should sink
I will love my Emma
without having to think.
To: Emma Kate
I love you friend!<3
SøułSurvivør Nov 2014
Lisa thought she was the only
One at the park. Who else would
Be here at this hour?
She squinted to see...
An old lady was sitting out
Under the big oak tree.
Lisa was frightened at first!
A ghoul or a ghost...
Was it eating at her soul?!
She drew near, relieved to see
The old lady using her phone.
"Ma'am, what are you doing here
At this hour? Are you lost?
I can help you get home..."
The older woman regared her
Carefully. She took in her
Clothing and appearance, and her
Sincerity... then relaxed.
"Oh! Thanks my dear!" She said,
Relieved. "My son was to pick
Me up, but it looks like he is
Having car trouble. Your help
Home would be SO appreciated.
I don't live far. It's dangerous
Walking alone at night these days."
Lisa gladly confirmed.
"Sure, ma'am. I thought I was
The only one out here... haha..."
Her pretense was obvious. She'd
Never been to the park alone before.
She was only there because...
That's where he proposed to her.
That's where they'd danced together.
That's where they had carved their
Names in the big oak tree...
... where she would never spend
Her life with him... she would never
See him ever again...
"Thank you my dear. You know,
In this neighborhood some of the
Young men escort little old ladies
Across the street... even when they
Don't want to go..."
The elderly woman chuckled, but
Noticed that the young woman
Did not...
"Is there something wrong, my dear?" She asked gently.
Lisa stopped the car and started
Crying. She couldn't take it anymore.
Hiding behind pretense. The pain
In her heart brought her to her
Wit's end...
"He proposed to me there... under
That big oak tree... he died
So suddenly... he promised that
He would never leave me...!"
The lady looked down sadly.
Softly, slowly, she put her old
Gnarled hand on the girl's shoulder.
She recognized the need for a
Human's touch...
Lisa's tears became sobs of
Inconsolable grief.
"My dear child..."
She let Lisa cry. When the girl was
Ready she would tell her story.
Finally the tale of Jim unfolded.
Her fiance' he had died three months
Ago in an auto accident. Lisa
Couldn't "get over it". Nobody
Understood, Lisa said again and again. She and Jim had had an argument the day before his death.
"If only I had been more sensitive to his feelings!"
This lead to more angry outbursts
About nobody understanding...
... and how he had left her alone.
"Dear... my name is Emma." The elderly woman was soft. Soothing.
"I lost my husband two years ago
To cancer. I still grieve..."
Lisa snapped. "Now you're going to tell me that you know how I feel...
Well you don't! Nobody does! "
Emma looked at her with understanding and compassion.
"No, dear. Nobody does. Including me.  Your grief is your own. You must have loved him very much.
This much I do know. Those who love much grieve all the more..."
Lisa began to cry again in great gasping paroxyms of the soul...
Quietly she pulled out some Kleenex and handed them to the girls. Then
She pulled out a business card and wrote on the back of it...
"Here is my phone number. This is also the numberand address for a group. Other people who have lost loved ones. It is hosted by a woman who lost her family in WWII. She
Is renouned in her field. We talk about every aspect of this process. Physical. Emotional. Mental and Spiritual.
Dear, when you lose someone who you love deeply you go through a process. You don't get over it right away regardless of what "people" think. Please. This is important. Consider joining us, okay? "
Lisa looked at the card Emma offered a bit doubtfully but thoughtfully.
She took it with shaking fingers.
"I'll think about it," she said. "My
Name is Lisa by the way..."
Emma smiled warmly.
"Pleased to meet you, Lisa. Thank you for sharing your story with me.  I truly believe that it does help."
Lisa looked in Emma's kind eyes, and found herself smiling as well.
Maybe... just maybe... this lady could be a friend.
"Maybe I could pick you up for
These meetings..." Lisa said tentatively.
Emma beamed. "Call me," she said.
"I really could use a ride..."
Lisa felt a warmth come to her heart for the first time in a long time.

She put the car in gear and drove her new friend home.

(c) Erenn**
(c) Soulsurvivor
This was a wonderful experience. Erenn is a very talented poet and author and was a joy to work with.

We both hope that this write will
help someone. I learned a great deal myself. I hope that I won't have to use what I learned here for a long time. But I know eventually I will. We all have to know grief...
firexscape  Jul 2014
firexscape Jul 2014
Emma is the girl
For who you'd pay millions
Just to hear her laugh
That laugh
It is a laugh no summer breeze can compete with
To hear Emma talk
Is to immerse yourself in a still black lake
Illuminated my moonlight's gleam
On a raw summer night
Once you hear it
Her voice becomes the only lullaby
You will ever fall asleep to
Once you see her
The second you do
Beauty will cease to exist
There will only be Emma
And that which is not her.
Listening to Bon Iver's "For Emma", I asked myself "who is Emma?".
Cattlies  Sep 2015
Last Night...
Cattlies Sep 2015
Emma talked about him like he was tattooed into her eyelids and he would not
allow her to scrub him away. I swear, he thinks everything is funny when it
makes me mad.
But she still answered his texts like it was the package
she had been waiting for months now, and she still loved him like it was an
antidote for some lovesick disease. I could see the way he ate up her affection
like it was some sort of sugar high, before he crashed into another girl's bed
that had been waiting all evening for him. Last night I watched as Emma and him
kissed for the hundredth time under a dozen stars, her hands pressed around him,
before a dozen of those stars came falling down to the ground, and he
disappeared with a different girl. Last night her tears over watered the lilies I keep
in my bedroom and leaked through the floor. Last night he called and said Baby,
I wouldn't mind choosing you
and I could hear a female voice in the background
like a bullet shot through the line. It traveled through her eardrums and followed the path down to her heart. Last night I told Emma she was worth more than this. Last night Emma stopped responding to his texts. Last night Emma and I went out and she
kissed another boy who danced with her like they were the only ones in the room,
and touched her like she was something better than his own existence. And last night,
Emma decided to not go home with anyone because she had an evening booked
with a new prince charming who knew how to wait for her.
emma  Sep 2018
Be Quiet
emma Sep 2018
To the boy from seventh grade,

I don’t know if you remember…
grabbing me,
and touching me,
and running your hands along my hips.
or maybe how you whispered for me to,
while all the reasons I wasn’t beautiful dripped
like slurred poison from your lips.
“Emma you are fat.”
“Emma you are ugly.”
“Emma you are flat.”
“Emma how could anyone even look at you?”

I stood there silent,
feeling the increasing weight of my bones
press into my shoes.
The unfortunate optimism of the Suffield public school system
taught all about the dangers,
of men with candy in white vans,
but failed to arm us against the boys
who we grew up on the playground with.

I was twelve.
I think parts of me broke in all the places they were supposed to be growing.
I haven’t been back to that english class.
I am too afraid my pieces are still littered across the blue tile,
too scared I might run into some fragmented composition of the eyes,
of the girl I was before room 221.
I don’t think she would be very proud of me.

It’s been years.
I should really get over it right?
I’m sure you never had trouble sleeping
all the nights I lied awake because
I could still feel you,
and hear you.
My head, a broken record,
you were the only track that played at that hour.
You’ve probably indulged in your ability to forget
the way my pleading voice fractured,
“Stop it please.”  

I don’t think boys like you understand what happens
to the words you breathe into us
at times when you are holding onto us.
Those words,
They echoed through the empty chasms that burned through me,
at everyplace you ran your fingers,
in slow circles across my skin.
They spun themselves through my ribs
until they were bound so tightly,
I stopped feeling my own heart beat.
So constricted in its’ cage,
like an newly captive animal it soon tired itself of screaming for its release,
and just lied down.

Words that I remembered with many boys after you.
BE QUIET when he tells you you have beautiful “******* eyes.”
BE QUIET when he tells you your “No.” has made you “useless.”
BE QUIET when he raises his hand and tells you to sit  
before he brings it down across your face.
Emma, cry quietly when you realize
they only see beauty in the things they can take from you.

And I let them,
and watched as the fabric of my skin
frayed under my fingernails.
I’ve found myself one to many times
trying to scrub the blood left remnant, from my unwinding
out from underneath them.

I am done.
It’s time for me to take myself back.
I am going to make the shreds that you left at my feet
far more beautiful than anything you took from me,
and this time,
I’m going to hold on.

I never want my little sister to be told to BE QUIET.
I will not BE QUIET anymore.
I will not BE QUIET because I will not let these eyes be reduced
to the way they look when I am on my knees
or the way these hips curve when they are underneath your hands.
I will not BE QUIET because there are other girls who are scared
in classrooms and dimly lit street corners.
I will not BE QUIET because this noise is powerful.
I will not BE QUIET because if your voice created echoes
mine will create earthquakes.
I will not BE QUIET because I am lucky that you never got the chance
to do anything more to me
because I have held the shaking hands of a girl ***** in a closet,
while she told me she doesn't want to live anymore.
I will not BE QUIET because there are millions of stories like her’s.
millions of girls who are silenced with justice left unserved.
Having a voice is a privilege,
hard fought and deserved.

Dear boy from seventh grade,
be prepared to face the noise.
I will not BE QUIET anymore.
A woman named Emma
decided this was the day to die.
For you see, She was tired
of her writings,
of this dilemma;
the dilemma of life.

She made herself eggs;
of course with butter and toast.
The coffee had never tasted better,
Even though she still felt remorse.
She put her tongue back in her throat.

After breakfast she showered and put on a dress.
She dared to not wear make up;
this way the day to be not like the rest.
This was the day to wake up.

Emma walked out the door and left it ajared
It was pointless to lock it now.
She threw her keys into the neighbors porch.
"Good riddance," she thought,
Of this and all the clever sorts.

She walked for mile upon mile,
and it never occurred to her;
she would never see those smiles;
and for this she felt vile.
"I'm sorry."

The thing about black dye though,
that is never said aloud.
The who, what, where, and hows
matter little to a broken soul.

Emma continued towards that west coast;
this way the day to Die.
"This is an homage to Virginia Woolf," she thought.
At this point she was unable to cry;
just go on and Die.

Those journals of Kafka
and machismo of Hemingway
do nothing for her now.
Writers are the worse lovers,
they are born with no heart.

They all react much to quickly.
This is all cliche.

— The End —