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Katelyn Billat Oct 2017
Never fall in love in autumn.
Hear me again,
I beg you
Never fall in love in autumn.

Take it from me,
I have fallen in love in autumn.
And every time, it left me broken.
It seems every time, the passion dies,
Just like the leaves die and fall.

Maybe that is why another word for
Autumn,
Is fall.
Ironically, I'm telling you
To never fall in love in fall.

Maybe it's inevitable for me,
But I hope I can save you the heartache.
Solaces Oct 2017
The rain woke me up..
I got up and looked out the window..
And the rain fell with silent lightning dancing about..
I saw myself..
For a moment as the raindrop fell..
I saw myself..
For a moment as the lightning streaked through the sky..
I saw myself as the storm blue lightning sky..
It was then a strange machine lit up blue..
With my memories of me it grew brighter and brighter..
It was a beautiful machine made out of imagination glass..
It was a beautiful machine made out of memories of light..
I called it a Lightcycle..  Starglass and light... Driven by and emotion engine.. And endless thoughts..  The starglass shell filled in with lightning and endless blues..  
I built my Lightcycle again..
Simply by remembering it..
The lightning birds flew around me..
I was ready to open my electric wings again...
Its been so long..
Starglass and light....
Katelyn Billat Oct 2017
Our love was beautiful,

innocent and sweet. 

Like flower buds on a tree, seeing the sun for the first time.   

It grew into fresh fruit, refreshing everyone who encountered it.

Then autum came and our fruit dropped to the ground, taking the leaves with it. 

Although it was a sign of death, I still found it beautiful.

We were breath taking.

Our love flowed like rivers and streams hidden deep in the forest. 

Then the cold came, and she came. 

We lost our spark. You spent more time with her, and allowed her to burrow her way into our tree.

Slowly, she took our nutrition and ripped the roots out from under us.  

She froze the remains of us and eventually we died.

Then you grew a new tree with her, using our dead fruit and leaves as nutrients.

Now a new frost has spread and this new winter has killed your tree with her.

This cycle will remain until you have learned how to shelter your tree from the cold. 

But the saddest part is that our tree was not grown from the cold that killed the leaves in which your trees now grow.

Our love was sprouted from the sun, it was fresh and new, and innocent.
Fumbletongue Oct 2017
The black and the white, The left and the right
The right and the wrong, The short and the long
The happy and sad, The good and the bad
The up and the down, The smile and frown
The awake and the sleep, The shallow and deep
The common and rare, The covered and bare
The urban and rural, The single and plural
The hot and the cold, The meek and the bold
The wisdom and folly, The gosh and the golly
The break and the mend, The save and the spend
The few and the many, The dollar and penny
The adult and the child, The tame and the wild
The blame and the praise, The year and the days
The free and the caged, The joy and the rage
The dark and the light, The day and the night
The sea and the land, The instrument and band
The pleasure and pain, The sun and the rain
The poetry and prose, The con's and the pro's
The open and shut, The why and the what
The here and the there, The when and the where
The these and the those, The highs and the lows
The above and below, The ebb and the flow
The want and the need, The giving and greed
The public and private, The peace and the riot
The cruel and the kind, The heart and the mind
The expand and contract, The real and abstract
The empty and full, The push and the pull
The biased and fair, The hope and despair
The master and servant, The blind and observant
The even and the odd, The Devil and God
The bones and the skin, The without and within
The inhale and exhale, The try and the fail
The false and the true, The old and the new
The free and the bound, The lost and the found
The quiet and loud, The humble and proud
The rich and the poor, The less and the more
The found and the lost, The worth and the cost
The yin and the yang, The wax and the wane

Forever entwined
by grand designed,
not to unbind
girl diffused Oct 2017
My grandmother taught me
how to rinse period blood
out of my *******
taught me how to sweep
the veranda with my clothes
sticking to my skin

My grandmother taught me
how to hang up soap-water-soaked
house dresses, frocks, slips, and bras
on a clothes line and take them all down
before the sky turns too gray with almost-rain

My grandfather taught me how to recite
the times table as I read from a small school book
my writing is small and quiet and does not yet
demand to be read or known

My grandfather taught me that disobedience
means a stern brown eye, a grim mouth,
a sharp snapping crack of leather belt

My father taught me that not all men
are men, that some men are boys
and they will leave their daughters
waiting, legs folded underneath them,
toes curled as they watch for their father's
car that never drives down the quiet road

My father taught me that some men,
some boys will leave and they will close
your front door, leave your third text
unanswered on your phone, and you
will taste their lies on your tongue

My mother taught me to be loud
assertive, that every word holds heavy
resonant power and can be a piercing bullet

My mother taught me how to bathe in water,
burn papers scrawled with ex lovers' names
rinse my mouth with salt and water
flick my clean tongue over white teeth
how to write love into my palms
ritualistically pass it over my body
Do not expect a linear path
Nor a strictly circular one
Though you meander one foot to the next
In cyclical, somewhat predictable rhythms.
Do not expect clouds to behave,
Mountains to hold,
Or branches to grow.
Do not expect bridges to stand the test
of time that even trees cannot.
Do not expect your golden shot today
to hold your interest next go round the wheel.
Do not expect a clear and simple reward.
Rather, take what you can,
Whenever you can,
Drink it in,
Make it a part of you
For the next go round.
10.8.17
Inktober Prompt: Crooked
Rules: The poem is whatever comes out of the pen, no edits allowed.
showyoulove Oct 2017
To know Him is to love Him
To love Him is to follow Him
To follow Him is to imitate Him
To imitate Him is to be Him for others
In knowing Him we know and find ourselves
In loving Him we see others the way He sees us
In following Him we learn and grow in faith and holiness
In imitating Him we are more truly free
In being Him for others we bring another heart to know Him
And the cycle starts again
triztessa Oct 2017
when i am craving
something to keep my mind off
you are always
in my space

when i am craving
nightmares instead
of waking up at all
you are always
in my eyes

tears fail to come
keep me company
these storms are every day
counting on me
when i am craving you

when i am craving
careless to say
anything
for myself
i forget for a while
how to feel at all

when i am craving
being alone again
i am carrying
the weight of you

i thought the sky cleared
out from my eyes
monsoons still passing by
under different roofs

did i omit to say
i dreamt of you?
Samantha Sep 2017
What do you see when you close your eyes?
What do you dream?
Where does your heart go?
Do you see her?
Standing on the beach,
Wet feet and sandy hair.
Do you see her,
Sitting at a table,
In your favorite restaurant.
Eating your favorite meal.
Do you see her,
Sleeping in your bed,
Peacefully and steady.
Or do you see me?
Broken and drenched.
Heart and feet in a puddle,
Ready to be your favorite ****-up.
Nothing special, nothing new,
And probably nothing good.
But ready to worship at your feet,
Once again.
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