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Sketcher Apr 9
We like hanging out together,
Even in the stormy weather,
Riding bikes, holding hands,
Walking in the hot sands,
A little kiss now and then,
From two little tiny men,
Who only walk upside down,
With a crazy looking frown,
They are to be buds,
And #1 studs,
They always make eachother laugh,
Even when they’re doing their math,
Funny, funny, hahaha all the way,
That’s how it went for the rest of the day.
I found a poem I wrote when I was 9... so... 8 years ago... enjoy I guess... /:
The reflection came too late
and now
I must wait,
for the mirror is
fogged.

Dogged by the memory
of the years
that passed by me,

I see shadows,
halo's of lights.

I fight my way up
no use staying here
not when the new year
is on the horizon..

It's funny.

I always trust being
on the cusp.
HA May 2016
Stuff berries in your cheeks,
And fill your ears with leaves.
We shall never again exchange words.
J B Moore Feb 2016
Thank you Lord, For darkness and light,
Thank you Lord, For giving me sight.

The sight to see, Your mercy and love,
And giving to me, a gift from above.

The gift was your Son sent to live perfectly
The only one, to pay the price for me.

The price it was death, hung from a tree
Taking God's wrath for sinners like me

Three days later you showed your satisfaction
By conquering death through His resurrection.

Thank you my God for letting me hear
Your word being taught for all of these years

Help me remember to never forget
Renew the ember, a fire once lit.

Keep me burning for you and help me to find
That living for you is worth all of my time.

To end not my will, but Your's here as in heaven, 
Because of your son, I am forgiven.

Amen

June, 2011
Something I wrote before I really got into poetry
Dreams of Sepia Oct 2015
In the "Warwick Arms".


There's a girl wearing fake fur

of yesteryear's youth, weighing

out sexiness in the number

of beers she can afford.

How much oblivion

an unimaginative mind can take

is equal to the power of

a beached whale

drawing it's last breath.

The Russian wipes his moustache

turns around & smirks

that she's somewhat

under-dressed for the long winter.



Going to Japan.



Pink rain:

I could walk through it,

sweet-wrapped.

And the rice-blank  past

would be ample weight in my hand.

Like that of roses, remembered.

In a Murakami bar,

octopi would reach out

& dangle questions.

As a thousand pair of eyes

ask me to give the lesson

no-one ever taught me.

That they alone know.

That only pink rain understands.
' The Warwick Arms' is a pub near me....the poem is a sketch of the time a Russian friend of ours came to stay with us for a few days & how we went there for a drink..

by 'Pink rain' in the second poem I mean Cherry Blossom, for which Japan is famous...& by Murakami  bar I guess I was thinking of Haruki Murakami, one of Japan's most famous novelists...
These are old poems from way back, written about four years ago...I never got to Japan & don't know if I'll ever go there now but who cares, at least I have a poem about it....
Chloé Jan 2015
How to see sound. by Chloe
two times

is all it took

for one eye to tell the other

just go ahead and look.

stragglers, they could agree

how seriously difficult

it is to really see.

I went along, though,

and all for good

as what had appeared in front of me

just so beautifully stood.

a few heart beats went by

before I sensed

a large wave of intensity

flow right out my chest.

You know, when the sky rains and the drops hit the floor,

the ground that we walk on is dry no more.

when your eyes are shut because you do not want to see,

just keep them open

cure your curiosity.

Now, I can dream without sleeping

so you can sing with no voice

nobody will care what comes out

so long as it is all your choice.
Neon lights Oct 2014
It felt like the same 4.00 A.M as it was yesterday when he called it's just today phone calls are the last ones you will get from him and his voice will echo until you breathe your last breath
Based on someone's tragic memory of losing his friend in a car crash
Ayelle Garcia Oct 2014
Done with the past,
Moving on to the present;
Fulfilling dreams
For a successful future.

Life’s not just a walk in the park,
It’s a threshold of obstacles;
My past was not a joke,
I bet hers as well.

She achieved recognitions,
Gained a lot of friends;
Met up with past friends
And even fell in love.

But all these changed
As time passed by.
Betrayals in the back,
A heart break tore her apart.

She was totally lost,
Got nowhere to go;
Just about to end her life
Until hope reached its hands.

Through true friends’ help,
She was revived and changed;
Life went back to its old way
With more achievements to boot.

She had buried the dying self
And brought herself back to life.
As the time had come,
She succeeded in flying colors.

Now, no more of this soul
That lingers in the past.
Now, here she is
At the best time of her life.
This was written after I joined CYA, a religious org in our school. Tells how I was able to get out of my "Great Depression" & of what was in store of me.
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