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Serenity Elliot Sep 2014
There she was, standing on the train
Drops in her hair from the outside rain
She had rough holes in her shoes,
A small tear up her tights,
Beneath her ruffled hair her eyes shone bright.

Reading her book in just a sweater,
Moving her lips with each glorious letter
Not wearing a coat,
Saving up for the right one,
Heading home to laugh and have fun.

The same skirt that has been worn each day this week,
Beneath her blouse sleeves delicate wrists do peak,
A curl behind her ear and
Regular earrings worn without fail,
Behind her she leaves a positive trail.
Due to the graphic nature of the universe, creative expression is advised.
The Love Of Poetry

We consider ourselves writers
Painting pictures with our words
So others have a chance to view
A message that needs heard

We hope that we are givers
Of wonders never seen
That each new verse that we write
It is something someone needs

We try to make a difference
Give a different point of view
Hope that they will understand
Maybe change a life or two

I call myself a poet
And I do all the things above
Although I do this for myself
I also do it out of love

The Love Of Poetry

Carl Joseph Roberts
Serenity Elliot Sep 2014
Riding here, a cloak over your face,
What has caused you to come to this haunted place?
Atop a horse that is one with the night,
Why are you here, this isn’t your fight
My hand in yours leading the way,
You beg me to go so why should I stay
Dark eyes with hair swept over your face,
Why have you come to this silent place?

Back on her horse and riding away
Just riding, away
Back on her horse riding away
Away
The shadows shoot by under the moon’s silver rays
An old ruined castle for the night we will stay
The dew stained grass
Until the dawn of the day

Taking your hands gentle with grace
Now we are here is it the end of the chase?
Leaning to you yet away you do move
Bringing me here, why don’t you approve
Hearing the ocean, the wind in the trees
You’re still and pure, please just be freed
Staring at me, your touch full of grace,
Is it the end of the unstated chase?

Is this a chase
Chase
Why this strange chase

This overgrown room with an old and slow pace,
Acting as if we’re in wait for a race
Taking my hand, is there something you know,
Flying back home, what won’t you show?

Return to the villa there’s a man in my bed,
Drips on the floor from the shot in his head

You took me away at a frantic pace
You look at me as if we’ve just won a race

The race
An innocent race
Serenity Elliot Sep 2014
Once was found but now you’re lost,
You can travel far, our paths will cross
Fought and sinned but born no cost,
Your mind can go so far,
With a heart of  frost.

Please turn around,
Look them in the eyes,
Though their souls have drowned,
They have not died

You hear their cries on the broken waves,
Turn your back
Just feel it inside.
Past shouts of joy and triumph,
Listen close,
They are lost with the tide
Close your eyes, your eyes,
Close your eyes, your eyes

Face the wall and sink right down,
Sweat it out
In this strange town,
Feel the bites around your ivy crown,
Hear the silence singing
To your absent crown.

Just turn around,
Stare into their eyes,
Your feet aren’t bound,
Like their hands are tied.

Exhausted thinking that the world still owes you
Exhausted feeling like a hawk that is in chase
Trying to figure out, is it true,
Leave this place,
Just leave this place.
theres a little owl a lovely chap is he
he lives in a field in a great big tree
he has great big eyes. feathers pure white
everytime i see him he fills me with delight.

he likes to look for food very late at night
looking for his prey when the moon is bright
hovers over head till he spots his prey
then a mighty swoop to take is catch away

back in to his tree to enjoy his ****
then falls fast asleep in the night so still.
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