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 Feb 2015 s
Forgotten Heart
confused
 Feb 2015 s
Forgotten Heart
Tell me
whom
should I
believe???
 Feb 2015 s
Silence Screamz
If your story does not hold up in the light,  then you will spend the rest of your life in the dark.
 Feb 2015 s
Vishnuvardhan
The leaf
 Feb 2015 s
Vishnuvardhan
it-
comes
from the
trees .From the
barks of these trees.
Stems of these trees which
grow outside my bungalow.
   And in the forests of many    
countries, cities towns and
in villages.This particular
tree grows outside my
house. It gives me
herbs and helps
with my
sick-
n
e
s
s
.
 Feb 2015 s
ryn
Witch's Brew
 Feb 2015 s
ryn
)
       o    (              (             (                  
O   )     (                      )        
            )                (      o
    (              (      (                       O  
   )     o              )   O       )        o
(    O              (     o      (         ) 
)    o                              )    (
**make me a cauldron of a witch's
brew•let it bubble and boil...;
simmer and stew• allow the con-
coction to churn•feed it with raw an-
guish and spiteful spurn•whisper my wi-
shes into shady ingredients•scatter them in
to render it potent•stir it wild...with an iron
ladle with a wooden haft•raucous incanta-
tions of a long forgotten craft•...now give
me a vial of the witch's brew•let it
**** me or grant me the gifts
promised in lieu•
 Feb 2015 s
Angela Moreno
The Kiss
 Feb 2015 s
Angela Moreno
And in a slow second
Your lips touched mine
With pressure as soft
As an angel's fingers
Unfolding spring's first rose,
And with skin as soft
As an infant's cheek
Pressed upon his mother's breast.
 Feb 2015 s
Francie Lynch
She shakes her ****
When I get home;
Does everything
To get the bone.
She realizes;
I recognize.

The new born eyes
Me so intently;
I return the gaze
Just as gently.
She realizes;
I recognize.

The battered bird
With feathers thinning,
Knows Spring's waxing,
Winter's waning.
It realizes;
I recognize.

So too with art
As pieces languish,
Some we banish
As too outlandish;
Some are lost
At our great cost;
Some are found
Underground,
In a cave
On frescoes walls,
In attic, cellar,
Flea market stalls.

A sonnet found
In some distant shire,
Or ten words
Of wisdom
We retired;
Banished today,
Tomorrow admired.
We realize;
We recognize
Not all our work
Can inspire,
When buried in
The hit pismire.
 Feb 2015 s
Lia
</3
 Feb 2015 s
Lia
</3
with a kiss i could absorb your soul
& with a touch you could heal me
 Feb 2015 s
Emily Rowe
Bad Poetry
 Feb 2015 s
Emily Rowe
The saddest thing about
This sadness
Is that you have taken
Everything
From me.
I can't even write
A single good poem
Anymore.
The one thing I thought
I could do
The one thing I thought
I was good at
The one thing I thought
Would always be there...
But I guess I thought
The same thing about you
And I guess I made
The same mistakes I've
Always
Made
Waiting
             Wishing
                           Wondering if you
Would come back
To me.
If you would feel
The same fiery passion in your heart
That burns in mine.
So I guess I'll just sit here
And write bad poetry
And that's all we ever were
Just bad poetry that I tried
Too hard to interpret as good
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