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Jillian Jesser Oct 2018
Lenore, not lost
but only sleeping
sainted, yes
and night comes reaping
radiant with demon's dreaming
tapping, tapping, like before.

Sure, the wind
has caught you from me
dances with you
rare Lenore.

Send this shadow
with it's rapping
send it
flying, from my door.
Ori Valentine Aug 2018
I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me
Cried the bleeding man in his last breath
He voided his bowels
The rigor mortis kicking in
And thus began his journey of death

The funeral was closed casket
There wasn’t much left to show
A poem recited
The priest going on
“Darkness there and nothing more”

The years went by, the man’s legacy forgotten
And so did the memories that once seemed so sweet
That’s how it goes
In this dark twisted world
Please stay tuned for some more Sesame Street
Lizzie Jun 2018
I've never been great at poetry;
The process always fails for me.
While mister Poe and Shakespeare last,
My writing ends up in the trash.

Their writing style, lost with age,
Their wisdom hid in ev'ry page,
The glory given where it's due -
These are things I cannot do.

My writing's forced; theirs doth flow.
I say it blunt; they say it slow.
Those areas that bless and move
Are places where I can't improve.

So why, with my lack of skill,
Do I keep on writing still?
With such a hopeless case as this,
You'd think I would already quit!

There was a time when I did -
My desk was shut; my pen was hid.
Then something occurred to me
Which changed it all instantly.

If Dr. Seuss had Shakespeare tried,
And Mr. Poe glorified,
And given up in dismay,
We wouldn't have his books today.

So keep on writing how you do
With that style unique to you.
Put your mind into use
(You just might be another Seuss)!
Diana Garcia Jun 2018
I’ve loved your *** since the 11th grade. There were a few years when we went our separate ways, in due time we both knew we should of stayed.. Our lives were in ******* shambles.. Each passing day I would gamble, I’d hope, I’d pray.. Maybe I’ll see him this time, *** would I even say?? Hey love, I’ve missed you... Still remember the day when I first kissed you.
I remember 9/11 was a day of much conflict and disarray
But in Reseda, California, we put the egos, pride and ******* at bay..
Shared our dreams, we talked about life, what it’s like without each other and what it all means.. there’s a fine line between love and hate. there’s no madness without love. I don’t really believe in fate. When it comes to matters of the heart there ain’t much you can say
It’s ok, I wouldn’t have it any other way.. cause you’re my man crush everyday
Happy Monday
I write about how much he ****** me off all the time..
But there’s a reason why I put up with it
I love him.....
Paul-Dieter Feb 2018
Revolted fading decay
Did pursuade,
Like blood on the shore,
To write with the blackness of my heart
And with hope nevermore

The black ink blooms on paperback,
With the heart that spurts its veins
Accross the page
Growing into its darkness and pains

The white fading,
drimpel, dubbed unpailing
With the words posing as potent but poison
Possesed in perfect form of pretence...

The Words so falsly true...
The words bleeding out, "I love you"
Tribute to Edgar Poe. The poem tells the story about a writer who utterly despises love, but when he himself gets tangled in it, he gives in and writes a letter expressing his feelings towards his love interest...
Hannah Zedaker Jan 2018
the day before yesterday.
Grieved by it, personally,
Reputation: few or no friends
Suggested art - lost its erratic stars
A dreamer! Dwelling in ideal realms
                          -the brain-


Indistinct curses with eyes upturned, already ******.
Happiness wit hglances introverted, shrouded in gloom,
arms wildly beating spirits - sought to forget
close by,
those glimpses
open to the doom of death
I pulled these lines from the Obituary of Edgar Allen Poe to construe a poem that I feel has both a theme of its own but draws aspects from Poe's life as well.
zebra Nov 2017
two ladies
dressed to ****
give me a shiver
give me a thrill

they kiss each other
their mouths pink and bright
tender and cruel
a kiss then a bite

******* brush soft
*****'s get wet
hands ***** *******
drools like a pet

******* explode
spasms and creams
hands touching thighs
sizzling dreams

oh they love
all candy and ***
shadowed eyes
lips like ***

ones a slave
the other her queen
then they switch
kiss and scream

its hotter then hot
a burning **** sun
melting butter slits
a tempest of fun

doing the rumba
pretty dance feet
swaying hips
gawd its sweet

lovely behinds
moving in place
what i want always
is ***** mouth face
In the darkest corner there
Hiding far and near
He hides from
And hide from me
Seeking his one and only Anabell Lee

For a love that's not known
Is secretly shown
He searches, he sees,
His beloved dear Anabell Lee.

He might be young
But youth means nothing to him
For tied is not is tongue
When says 'I love you' to Anabell Lee

The last words he speaks
The Last time he sees
His beloved Anabell Lee
For the time :
Based off of Edgar Allen Poe's 'Anabell Lee'
Mikayla Smith Feb 2017
Burning―a hot blaze
In the manner of fire.
Flickering in the form
Of ignited passion,
It dwindles in the
Morning sky.

I admire the beauty
From afar, for if I gazed
Straight ahead into the
Magnificent light,
My sight shall be
No more.

Wandering, my thoughts
Haunted me day
And night.
What if the light was
No more
And the world lived
In eternal darkness?

Who would be to save
Our beloved
Skies from going
Utterly blank?

There must be a savior;
Someone with power
And courage willing
To set fire to the
Sun to
Save our souls from
Flickering away
With the
Winds of time.
An aesthetic piece for the soul.
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