She wears her hair long
Strands of brown silk and shiny beauty.
Big Brown eyes that shine like huge crystals
shine light to me just as a light and electricity
Victory in love
Means ,in the war to avoid love ,I'm the fallen
Soldier in a war to be the lone gunner
She knows the strategy of the game
and hard to get is her battle plan
To have me, as if in a football game,
she's the quarterback with the football
and I'm the chasing Front-runner.  
Wanting to hold my sweet Victoria close to me
and have her strength in spirit and intellect
to bolster my life's campaign, in unity of eternity
I am forever dedicated to the general of my army
To lead me to my heart's battle
to win over the lonely forces of darkness
not a defeat
but an artistic victory.
I'm only half of a whole without her soul growing into fusion with mine.
To grow ,together, in all of love's true meaning and power.
I hand her,distantly, a kiss and wish to find the way to send her a dozen red rose flowers.
If only she'd open her mind to me after a battle field mishap
An innocent judgement.....her Partner in arms
In love's war victory
To open to me and understand my pain of guilt of the fumble of the ball
In a moment where I broke trust and aided the dark side to a brighter history.
Sense my yearning for your wisdom, strength, and strong heart's rhythm needed to place a beat to love's song
which I've longed to finish such a beautiful and bright song which  I've been writing,for so long,unfinished, waiting for the right one
Victoria is the finished part of my Epic Sonate
An opera to finish, with her heart melted into mine.
One song I've wished to complete for so long.
I try and think to another heart for inspiration
"Get to know me past my misguided moments, sweet Victoria.."
"For I'll prove myself beyond my strongest gift..
Inside of a heart you'll find that's an irreplaceable gem...
Trust, again, and take me into your light..
For us to enjoy family and love, eternally, in The Magic of Love's Bond and Formation.."
Of a life past our living bodies..Our souls shall be bonded, forever.
Marking the victory past a setback
Creating a new spirit from two souls fused to one.
Shining light on all those who are fighting for love...
To see two, so right for each other, fight to have the Ballard of Love's Opera, the fight to Eternity's road, to our fusion,
those lovers fighting to be forever.....This battle they shall see we have won.

Rosey 1d

I sat on the edge of the pool, heaving last Friday
"I thought this would be easy," I shouted at the lifeguard who was actually on duty in between heavy breaths
We've been mates for awhile I suppose, so I wasn't uncomfortable wearing almost no clothes in front of him
My relay partner was returning so I stood up, still breathing too hard,
Ignoring the bruises on my shins from the side of the pool
I jumped in, turning to face him (terminator style) as the water swallowed me,
Grabbed the brick, swam the fifty
Stood up on the edge right away this time, entirely focused on my body and my partner

I got lost on a mountain once
My friend and I had been climbing nearly straight up for an hour before we realized we'd lost the trail
We also realized that going down would be infinitely more challenging than coming up
Covered in scratches and bruises, with burs in our hair and the sun setting and no idea how we had lost the Appalachian, we called my dad
When I finally got home, with no help from him, he said,
"I'm glad you got lost. You learned something today."
The water I had hidden in his pickup truck may have saved our lives

A football player pushed me up onto the two foot side of the pool to do a tricep dip at the instruction of my teacher
This was the first time I realized how weak I was, pale and sickly and tired and trying to change
We have already done fifty nine pushups and sit ups and sprints on the deck
I passed out at six pm that night
And got up at six am the next day
Wrapped my wrists for English and chemistry,
And replaced the braces with grips when I got to the gym

I think disappointed was the only word I could come up with as my sister drove me to the ER the day before she left for college
She'd spent eighteen years growing up, and this was the first time I felt like she was still a child,
Scared and vulnerable, turning off the lights for me while we waited for the doctor and my dad
More CT scans,
"Lie still, don't move,"
I could swear I was in a mortuary, in my coffin, too young for my liking
This was before my second training session, and I was afraid I was going to have to quit

My girlfriend and I did our first run together, holding steady to her 11 minute-mile-pace
Except for the mandatory sprints on my training app
I took her in between trees and across the farmland I grew up on
There was no talking, we each had our own music
But she got to feel something I loved, and I got to be with her, sense her footsteps out of sync with my own
We got caught in the rain

"Excuse me, Coach, Sir," I said out of habit, when he told me to call him Coach and not Sir
It was the first time I passed my physical for a sport
He had me running three miles on the first day, and the second, and the third, and I got lost
(This became a running theme in my quest to "get better")
Suddenly, I wasn't the girl in the hospital gown anymore,
Although the one person on the team who knew me asked me if I had my medication every day
If I didn't, he stayed back with me
He was safe, for some reason
I ran my second 10k that year

This is my actual story. No characters. Me.

Please comment :)
Lucero 1d

Sometimes there are mysteries
Here and there
Needing to be solved
By you and I.

But where did the time go?
It flashed before my eyes,
Just in time for me to realize
Some mysteries weren’t solved
By you and I.

Some were solved
For we aren’t one in the same.

We are human,
Yes we are;
But as a matter of fact,
We may need each other
To solve some mysteries,
Yet we are capable
And strong enough

We have our own paths to follow
As we aren’t one in the same.

Although we may be
Each other’s puzzle pieces,
We are free to be free
And experience life
Through an independent lens
Aware of all the possibilities.



"send them as shepherds then..."

please God?

it was,
really..Fred Astaire in the Wind?
Fred Astaire in the Wind?
Fred Astaire in the Wind?

dare eh do?

Fred Astaire in the Wind?

In this this world full of words;
I yearn for a muse;
A muse that can lit;
A fire in my heart;
My only desire;
To bleed my ink;
On a flesh of paper;
For a muse that can;
Give worth to my words;
A muse that can;
Show beauty of my words...

The years may seem countless, but life is brief.
While being in this show, there is a tendency to get yourself a fractured soul.
The moments may seem ceaseless, but Time is a thief.
While time particles are robbed in the hourglass, daily live performance is on in your custom role.

At times, there are scenes which are swollen from sorrow.
At times, there are scenes which are pregnant with delight.
For the former, it is the strength of your costars that you have to borrow.
For the latter, it is when your positivity has won the fight.

Towards the finale, the memories can make up a scrumptious feast.
Otherwise, they can hunt you down like a ferocious beast.
Why not put all the memories in the photo frame,
As to keep those wild memories tamed.

Before your last bow, you can still alter to how you want it to end.
Remember this is not a puppet show but a 'live' telecast.
Before you take your exit, you still have many chances to amend.
Remember what can be forged is the future and what cannot be changed is the past.

Tina 4d

I came out with a little something
To tantalise the world with
I put on a magician cloak
And a top hat to top the world
There was that mind blowing show
At 7 pm each wednesday.
I sold people embroidered lies
And bought their colossal blunders
Yet, none could feed the hunger I carried
In the pit of my stomach
Or the thirst that would wipe out my barren eyes
Till some intruder having planned before
Broke in to the show, blasting the door
As audience fled, my cloak caught fire
The top hat descended like acid rain
corroding my magic into pieces of wood and wire
All gone and I stood watching
How my utmost dreams flew away .
Two tinsy droplets began dancing on my cheeks
The hunger that ached my stomach for weeks
Muttered: Voila!
And the intruder had left with nothing to say.


The shortest poem ever written.
For the thought of your name disqualifies all the rhymes that we can think of.

It out lived the metaphors the human mind can bear to imagine.

For you,

And nothing in this timeline can be another you.
And I thank my God that I lived to the reality where He did one of His greatest miracles:


Unsung Serenades: "Love, Undoing Impossibilities (LUI)" by Michael Señorin
Eleanor 4d

A poet is:
Someone who makes the ugly, beautiful.
Someone who makes the beautiful, obscure.
Someone who makes the obscure, understandable.
Someone who makes the understandable, amazing.
A poet is:
Someone who uses words, to make art.
Someone who looks at art, and sees a story.
Someone who looks at a story, and sees a purpose.
Someone who sees a purpose, and uses it.
A poet is:
Someone who sees hatred, and writes hatred.
Someone who sees love, and writes love.
Someone who feels sad, and writes sad.
Someone who sees kindness, and writes kindness.

A poet can be anyone.
A poet can write about anything.
A poet can be implicit.
A poet can be explicit.
A poet can be hidden.
A poet can be famous.

You can be a poet.
The only rule is to write.

Poems are hard to define. You can write poems to express feelings or just to appreciate the things around you. You can write a poem on some paper or on a computer or in the sand, it doesn't matter. You can show people or keep it to yourself. The important thing is that when you you write a poem it's impossible not to be good enough because that poem is for you and only you. The world is lucky if they get to read it.

I live in my own fish bowl,
a clear stream
of silver strings
swimming gently
with and against me
as I am moved
in a mad and melancholic melody.

Pressing against the edges of my prison,
I try to see beyond
the light splitting prism
into a new multi-dimensional spectrum.

Opening old books of fiction
as my own teddy bear seams split
letting my mental stuffing slip,
I reach and read each page into
a brand new pre-used
mental picture reality
that moves as rapidly
or as slowly as I desire

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