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Kristina Weeks Jun 2018
There she sits in her narrow room
Room narrow and tall
The room a cave cold and dark
With a shelf on the wall

To her left there sits a table
Covered in tiny jars
And to the right there is a window
Lined, of course, with bars

Every day that starts anew
She rises with the sun
Shuffling over to her table
Her job has begun

She grabs a jar and whispers
Filling each one with light
Then seal them up quickly now
Seal them up tight

Holding the jar carefully in her hands
She shuffles to her shelf
And places it with the other ones
Each one part of herself

The shelf is covered in them
The little bottles filled with color
Sparkling reds, blues, yellows
All arranged around each other

And so the day begins
They come now to her cave
Arms reaching through the bars
It’s her bottles that they crave

So one by one she gives them out
One, two, five, then ten
Soon she’ll run out of jars
Time to refill again

Each bottle given out
To another reaching hand
Gets swallowed up in one gulp
So quickly it gets crammed

They drink it all down
Then they sway with delight
A toothy grin left on their face
A sort of high it excites

But soon the smile is gone
Their eyes snap back open
They fill with panic needing more
Realizing how much they’re broken

They rush back to the bars
Reaching gnawing clawing
Please, just one more
But her body now is falling

It’s become too much
There is nothing left
She collapses crying out
Soul now bereft

So the sun sets and they go away
They leave her alone now
Until tomorrow when the sun rises
This prison is her vow
Rice Balls Nov 2017
I store my ideas in bottles and jars.
When an idea pops up, I make sure to quickly put
it in a bottle or a jar.
My jars line up nicely on my shelf.
Within these jars are also my feelings.
Feelings of enthusiasm,
happiness,
and trust.
I bring these jars to everyone
I'm sure they'll love them!
Once placing them on the table, I describe each and one of them.
I wait for their reply.
It'll be good,
right?

One of them takes a jar and drops it on the ground.
Another throws a bottle against the wall.
They laugh.
I cry.
Why?
I ask.
They say






"We don't need them."
rose Apr 2017
dried up skulls
with motionless eyes
pulled out of their sockets
lie about on forgotten land
as more are placed in
the jars, already filled with other
dusty, dirt covered eyeballs.
the strangely clean glass containers
in which the eyes are placed
stand on wood shelves,
calling,
              b e g g i n g,
to be set free
from the trap of the elderly,
blind man's clutches.
Delta Swingline Mar 2017
Fact:** My sister is a wonderful human being.


After hearing about the tragedies happening around us, she decides to make paper stars. Lots and lots of stars.

She asks for empty bottles from the neighbours and her friends. She fills the bottles with these stars, folding away all her problems into glass bottles and jars of all shapes and sizes. After she fills the bottles and jars she hands them to her friends and family.

She gives one to me.

The paper stars in a rainbow pattern, they seem so full of wonder. Even if they are nothing more than paper encased in glass.

I take the glass jar and place it on the top shelf of my school locker. Reminding me that I can keep a piece of home and happiness close to me.

But it didn't last.

After I made some mistakes I didn't feel as though I wanted any happiness near me. I wanted to take every bit of hope and hide it away.

I took the jar of paper stars out of my locker 2 days ago.

Holding it close to my chest as I walked down the halls of my school.

My head hanging.
Eyes glued to the floor.

Walking away from everything.

But still sort of hopeful...
Wishing for a bit more optimism.

A shining star.
My sister will always be one of my biggest inspirations.
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2017
Today without question
I placed myself in a glass jar filled with you.
With no way of closing the jar I left the lid undone,
Already beginning to sink
I watched you ooze out, spilling against the sides.
I sat puzzled as I sunk to the bottom.
Reaching watching those familiar parts of you slip through my fingers.
There was no way I could recover the parts of you dripping to the outer bottom of the jar.
Never once did I think to breathe
Karen Astrid Mar 2015
Never keep a jar of hearts
They can easily be used,
broken, and
discarded as one would please.

But instead keep a bottle of stars,
you can have as many as you wish,
pluck them at anytime, and
watch them shine brighter than the sun.
In this jar,
take a look please.
It's full of the tears
you caused me.

In this jar,
the crimson looks black.
It's full of the blood
you shed from my back.

In this jar,
the creature is alive.
It contains a demon,
and that demon shall thrive as long as you're here.
The Black Raven Nov 2014
The stars are caught in his eyes tonight,
lets capture them in glass jars
and hang them on our peeling wall
as reminder and a promise
of the taste of your laughter and mine.
It hums in our mouths
as we travel the world together
within our thoughts and words
spreading the warmth that lingers at
the latest of hours of the darkest night.
So pick a jar, my love, and open it,
plant the seed of our hopes and dreams,
water it within your deepest soils,
an exposed soul to a harsh reality.
Lets watch it survive the elements
within its protective crown of thorns
and grow into something
truly extraordinary.
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