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Raven Jun 2014
You
Ashes cascade from my lips
They form monuments
You are unreachable
Closed off in your glass case
Pity starts a fire
Lust eats me away
My bones ache
I build a city around myself
Reaching
You smile, tears seeping from every crevice
My heart is consumed, digested
I am left in darkness
Alone
Liz May 2014
The silver
Birch trees flaunt
Their glitz as I 
Stroll through 
Deep pearl 
And sand
Pebbles

Gorgeous green
Mansions swirl
Around and
Blackbirds pick
Seeds from 
The posy bunches
And sparkled
Grass.

I pass a 
Pink butterfly house 
With large Daisy 
Heads protruding from
The diamond fencing.

The next house, a rather
Pretentious 'Cordillera',
Sounds like a disease.
A farm gate shields 
4 by 4s and I'm 
Now passing the weird
House with the crocodile
And gorilla and 
Coloured Cow 
And dog statues.

Coming to the
End of the lane
Of silver I pass
'Lane end'
Cottage with its viney
Stature and freshly 
Manicured front lawn. 
High cube hedges forming 
A pathway to the porch.

In The final 
Mansion if
Nosy passers
Have a peek you
Can see a 
Swimming pool,
Fluffy Towels draped over
The Silver pool chairs.

Flitting to 
The end of the 
Dappled birches,
Approaches
A wide country green
Covered in bunting
Bathed in buttercups.
I haven’t done this in a while
Is it silly to be nervous?

My door bell rings
My heart speeds
Mother calls “Daisy!”
And I realize she means me

I haven’t done this in a while
Is it foolish to be restless?

I take the steps one by one
Being sure not to topple down
The door creaks open and
I can see him standing there now.

I haven’t done this in a while
Is it odd to jump into his arms?

He smiles at me and my mother
He answers questions from my father
Everything is perfect
But I can’t help but fidget.

I haven’t done this in a while
Is it wrong to want to run?

We leave the house and walk down
A path of many flowers
I’m unsure what to think
But I find myself counting the hours.

I haven’t done this in a while
Is it childish to hold his hand?

I get into his car
Smoothing my skirt and catching breaths
He pulls out something for me now
And my heart takes a rest.

I haven’t done this in a while
Is it alright to try to kiss him?

I smell the Daisies, white and lush
Loyally loving and so gentle
Does he know I cherish them such?

Not just for the name we share
Or the thorns they lack unlike roses
Not for the simplicity of their petals so fair
But for the meaning behind them

Loving, loyal; so gentle, so innocent

I haven’t done this in a while
But I think I can handle it now.
Dhaye Margaux May 2014
BLOSSOM


Flower
Beauty under the sun
It dances with the wind and rain
And brings feeling of serenity
Blossom



****


SPINE




Prickle
It makes deep cuts
That make one cry in vain
Protected  beauty in its own
Spine
Cinquain
Cinquain is a short, usually unrhymed poem consisting of twenty-two syllables distributed as 2, 4, 6, 8, 2, in five lines. It was developed by the Imagist poet, Adelaide Crapsey.
Another form, sometimes used by school teachers to teach grammar, is as follows:

Line 1: Noun
Line 2: Description of Noun
Line 3: Action
Line 4: Feeling or Effect
Line 5: Synonym of the initial noun.
Tori Hart May 2014
You sat on the other end of the table
Glistening, shining, and taunting me
Rosy cheeks with spurts of Yellow and Green
Silently teasing
A juicy, little Apple.
Hopefully no one would see me, no one would pay any attention
As I grabbed the treat and the knife
And began to dangerously peel.
I knew I was doing it wrong
My hands shaking while my cheeks began to flush
Embarrassed by my ignorant inadequacy.
Are you left-handed? she asked from my left.
Humiliation filled the corners of my eyes, wet and distraught.
No, I mumbled. My cheeks reflecting Mose's Red Sea.
I was beginning to drown.
Your thumb needs to move, You make me nervous,
and she sounded nervous indeed.
Put it down here. Help yourself control it. Guide it.
Everyone was staring now, the whole table awed
My ignorance showing, like a medallion at my chest
My shameful Apple as pathetic proof.
You're doing it wrong.
Non così. Basta, faccio io.
Let me do it.
You're about to graduate, and you can't peel an apple.
I began choking, drowning in tears of Humiliation.
No, let her do it the small Voice on my left said.
She is finding her way. Let me watch her.
I finished peeling the Apple
Suffocating my tears as I ate.
You remind me of Daisy, she said soon after
From The Great Gatsby.
I choked and laughed, more ashamed than ever.
I'm not sure that is a compliment.
I could barely muster a mumble.
She couldn't do anything by herself.
She looked at me, gentle and forgiving.
I think it is, she replied
Wistful and Wise.
Daisy was vital to the story, you know.
And I believe that given the chance, she could have done anything that she wanted
*On her own.
"Sbagliando, si impara."
AavelinaJaden May 2014
Her name was petunia
She had hair the color of twilight settling after a hurricane and irises darker than the moon
Her smile was the crescent that the stars sung for
her fingers as dainty as China ware on the finest plates
Shy as werewolves howling for comfort
and brave as the wind dusting the horizon
She never did understand why her mother named her after something as petite as a flower
She couldn't understand her own beauty

Daisy; nose as freckled as the beach is sandy
Wrists as worn as the pages of a librarians favorite book
Sundays sunny as the sunflowers she wore on her church dress
inconspicuous was the boy she held hands with under the pews
Hated her parents for her wretched name
she murmured between kisses with the preachers son
the devil himself wasn't a flower, but a ****
Took her life the day he was baptized
A flowers life is not the life for me, said daisy

Rose
The beautiful of the most
with red lies that'd set your heart to flames
She'd burn down every field
and ***** every finger of those who kissed her lips
Ivory skin of leaves so green
envious of those who weren't picked,  and pitied, and deprived of their innocence and privacy
Just because fate handed her the life of lust and friends of petunias and Daisy's who never made the cut
Sara Escalante Apr 2014
She found meaning in objects
Like Christians with crosses
Believed in their power
Without second thought.
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