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WITH THE WORDS SHE WROTE
PASSIONATELY WITH HER PEN
YOU CAN FEEL THE INK
CRAWL UPON YOUR SOUL

HER CREATIVE YET HARD LIFE
BLESSED US WITH HER POEMS
SHE IS WHAT SPIRIT CALLS LIFE

PAIN STRIFE LOVE ABUSED
SHE WILL NOT FALL DOWN
WITH THE STROKES OF THE INK
ITS WRITTEN HER PERSONALLY

LET MY WORDS CONSUME YOU
OPEN YOUR MIND BE NOT AFRAID
DARE TO BE THERE WITH ME

FIND THE PLEASURE
IN POEMS WRITTEN
NAUGHTY & SO DELICIOUS

READ THE STRUGGLES
TOUGH DAYS LONELY NIGHTS
LONGING TO BE LOVED
NEEDING TO BE HEARD

SURVIVING ON THE STROKES
OF MY HAND ONTO PAPER
IS THIS HOW IT ENDS
WRITING IN INK
THE RHYTHM OF MY LIFE
WORDS JUST WORDS WRITTEN

©🇯ENNIFER  ðŸ‡©ELONG ♬✘↯
Wild and Wispy
or so they say
Willful and Wise
that may be true
Witchy and Wonderful
Could it be
Or so it seems
They may be
Seeing me
from looking in
Or looking through
It could all be true
© Jennifer L DeLong 3/4/2021
I'm standing on thin ice
sometimes solid, sometimes shallow
I balance precariously
when I hear the cracks begin
standing on this thin ice
this constant feeling persist
weaving throughout days in my life
and to fall
is to descend into mental chaos
so I laugh and nod
while tremors run rampant
my lungs take pause
and my heart beats war drums beneath my skin
Maha Jan 18
honey glazed toast, and hot coffee with a drop of cream
cinnamon and sugar spilled across mahogany
untamed thunderheads rolling across a once pale pink sky
and beyond the garden gates
I often wonder if that's where it is
one more hue, to paint the entirety of you
Ahmad Attr Jan 5
That day underneath the ocean sky
Stood an enchantress, a spell caster
No less than a fortune that she caught my eye
Chills to the bones, and heart raced faster

Her almond eyes, and hazel iris
Her pointed nose and elven ears
less of a damsel more of a siren
Her peach skin and cherry lips
Chocolate hair hanging to the curve of her back
Strawberry hands right to the tips
Chills to the spine, and heartbeat skips

Her orange sweater over a chequered skirt
Her camel shoes oscillating back and forth
Heels to toes, toes to heels, heels to toes
What a blessing on the Earth
What a blessing on us
A beauty waiting for her bus

I gazed at her long enough to make her a prisoner,
In my eyes, so I could shape her splendour
Through my paints and brush; nothing sinister
And when I’m done with my masterpiece
I throw it on the rest of them; joins the family, another sister
An enchantress and a painter
Bea Elizabeth Sep 2020
Ticking fills the room.

I rip the clock off the wall, and tear the batteries from the back.

Aggressively, I throw myself back in my seat with a huff.



I lower my head into the cool surface of the table.

My steaming mug is safely secured in my hand.

I watch the brown liquid swirl around as if the mere action would be enough to wake me up.



The dark substance is bitter on my tongue.

It burns my throat with it's unforgivable heat.

I can feel the harsh component coat my stomach.

Chemicals pulse through my veins, and make their presence known.



My eyes are heavy and droop onto my cheeks.

They scream with every movement, and beg me to let them rest.

I feel their agony and understand their pain.



Terror stomps around the room making his presence know.

He scrapes a chair across the floor, and joins me at the table.

He is delighted to view my weakness.

Laughter dances in his pitch-black eyes.

A jagged yellow grin forms on his face.



He taps his fingers slowly on the wooden surface.

I know he is waiting for me to cave.

He can sense the exhaustion diffusing off my body from being chased all night.


I glare at him fiercely.

Challenging him with my eyes, I declare war.

He is puzzled but amused, and accepts my offer.

His greasy hand holds onto mine as he guides me back to my chamber.



I climb into my bed with ease.

My bones groan with relief.

The sheets embrace me into a warm hug.

Peace falls over me and settles my thoughts.

I welcome the sleep that comes, but I know it will not be long before the battle.
beth haze Jul 2020
Kindest boy with a library that
reached the ceiling and
the same personality as
my best friend, they would talk about
movies in the middle of the street at
three a.m.
Everyone wanted us
to end up together but
it would never work out
in the end.
Moody boy with dark circles
that rimmed his eyes, always
wanted to talk about romance.
He looked at me with the softest eyes
but couldn't hold a conversation to
saves his life.
I don't know why but
I always think about him
when I'm feeling bright and
blue.
- dates at seventeen.
Nyakisa Beth May 2020
Her smile was the rare alphabet that composed the words.
Words that made sentences
Sentences that begot paragraphs
Paragraphs that turned into pages
Pages that turned into chapters
Chapters that turned into books
Books that told my story.
My story that unleashed her into my heart and unveiled my century long love mines

My reaction to her smile was the punctuation that changed the meaning of every letter,word, sentence,paragraph, page, chapter, book and ultimately my story.
That was far from over ,she changed my world.

It was not just a smile but the mark of the finest exploration expedition ever known to my circles.
Her smile was the build behind the words, sentences, paragraphs, pages, chapters, the book and ultimately the story that sent me flying.

Far from over,it was not just a flight but a first class flight of passion, affection, belonging, attachment and confidence that saw me smile with a smile that moved the mountains and shook the valleys of my understanding.
She was the element 115 that changed the alchemy, geography, radiology physics .she changed my approach to the theory of everything.

The beautiful soul behind the rare smile that changed everything lays hidden behind the alphabetic curtain of five letters

Behold AMIGO
Not just a word but a monument
Love changes and teaches
Molly Eli Apr 2020
She has blonde hair
That comes with traits above our class
She is not one of us,
And she knows that
She is my sister, only half you see
For her father was a wealthier man
Until he fell for, heard her crying plea
My father was a very nice man
But not the same man was he
He was a factory worker
Until he went up into flames
She loved him dear
And his death tore her to shreds
But darkness rose up in her
After his death
She is now a bad guy
In a good story
Karly, I love you dear
But now is the time
To face my fears
I know that you love a man
Who is obsessed with me
And with whom's feelings
I do not share
I would tell him that you felt for him
But he wouldn't even care.
I'm sorry sister
Please don't hate me
I want nothing more than to be good to you
I really do
But I cannot
Because you have played me as a fool
This is my story, not yours.
If you try to take my ending I will take yours
I am sorry for betraying you
But if you did it first,
Is it really betrayal at all?
This is a character in my book that I am working on. Enjoy
Molly Eli Apr 2020
He looked into my eyes
As though he could see right through them
I fell into his endless oceany eyes
As he told me that I was shameful
That I was nothing to him
He told me that I wasn't worth the dirt on his soles
I can't help but love him though
Because I am supposed to be with him

His watery blue eyes
Tell me that I am trying too hard
To tell me everything is fine
Even though I know it isn't
He is so turning
Like a road with switchbacks
I am not your mountain
Stop being so indecisive
You like me, or you don't
So just tell me, am I beautiful
Or am I nothing?
Villain description for a book I am writing. This character is based of a guy I know who is a trading *******. You're welcome Will Clark
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