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Quinn Adaire Jul 9
Between the words
Of a book
Is where the magic happens.

Between the words
The characters lives
Go way out of
The storyline.

Between the letters
A character
Is slaying
No dragons
Or slumbering
For a century.

In the margins
The characters think
Outside of the plot,
And while the words
Of a book
Are magical,
between the words
Is the best part.
Lady Bird Oct 2016
a golden mare
strength and power
inspiration and imagination
flowing in rhythm or rhyme
thoughts in words I share
passion moving forward in time
roads of emotions; feelings I stride
paths of decisions; thoughts I ride
experiencing; distance and abilities
within my mind galloping the margins
of my quenching desire written
running wild and free
a golden horse
the perfect palomino of poetry
Colten White May 2016
Some moments can be felt
as though they are written
into a chapter of your life.
The intensity of an event piercing
through the thin paper of your being,
bleeding onto several following pages.
Pull out a book and write
in the margins,
the words only matter if you
ponder them,
and let their meaning drip
from your mind.
Derrick Feinman May 2015
Something is broken:
Whole lives reduced to numbers-
Disposable lives.
Sydney Ann Apr 2015
Day 2 to no prevail
with infinite available
my thoughts are, going
No pressure , Zero gravity
Speaking my mind
In freaking rhymes

I'm bored
Can't even call
up a chord

It's dire,  yet today
I'm impossibly smiling

but I'm afraid
this can only work once
the same                                
Comes out      
Every time

My train of thoughts
looks like graphite
trains are _  I don't

(The following was written in the margins)
So now I'm
going Sideways
my life is sideways
but no one ever got
I found this in my Creative Writing class notebook. I tried to type it up exactly how it was on the page so ^ there it is ;)
Derrick Feinman Mar 2015
Something is broken
Whole lives reduced to numbers
Disposable lives
Katie W Nov 2014
There’s a rubber band around me
It stretches from head to toe
I jump to extend my boundaries
With no avail I bounce back
It’s those invisible screens
Reflecting ideals and promises
Where is the freedom we dreamed?
When there’s nothing beyond
We’re our own poison
With a society so tightened
Can we try to express something?
Or are we doomed to silence
It’s harrowing beyond measure
The world that we’ve created
Carved up and delivered with,
Margins of error and doubt.

— The End —