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D I A Mar 2015
Blood paints the sky in vivid streaks
Broken
Burned
Shattered
Is the light.
Frozen solid
Weeping still,
The day is murdered.
mads Feb 2015
fingers,
hands.

nail beds,
knuckles.

palms so sweaty,
i could replenish all seven seas.

thumbs,
the freckle on the inside of my left ring finger.

i wish,
they would stay together.

my fingers,
they always find back doors and wander off to new continents.

my palms,
continue to melt away with the salt water they leak.

my freckle,
left me for another.

and now all i have is wrist stumps,
and no way to reach the scratch on my back.
observation warmup in my creative writing course, i used my own hands. :-)
Bobbie McCord Feb 2015
I gaze at him from across a sea of bowed heads.
The steady, calming voice of prayer echoing off
stained glass windows, which bring in a soft rainbowy light.
The lighting is soft, intimate,
but this distance between this man and I is not.
He is too far away.
This distance, an alluring mystery
...but also a heartbroken torture.
I long to touch this man I do not know.

Who is he?
Broad shouldered, mischievous grin, with
warm eyes that melt like caramel,
I wish I could look into them, if only for a second,
just to see what kind of soul resides within this handsome man.
For my mother always did tell me: "eyes are the windows to the soul".
I wish I could run my fingers through his hair,
which is dark, like his humor. Or so I've heard.

He walks my way, maneuvering the clusters of people expertly.
He is dressed up, snazzy like always...
as he walks by, his eyes catch mine
and his mouth quirks up
at the corner. He winks at me,
leaving me praying for the ability to breathe right.

Oh, how I long to know this man,
and kiss this man, and hold this man,
and lay in his bed in the depths of night.
His fingers entangling in mine like fresh-water kelp,
his lips my savior from drowning in the loneliness.  
Nothing else but the cricket's chirp,
moonlight's gleam, and sheet's rustle,
and the comforting warmth of his body next to mine.
I allow myself the pleasure of basking in such a bliss.

Until a blurry sun bubbles up from the horizon,
and I wake
to a pair of curious eyes drinking me in.

I wouldn't mind getting drunk off of him. No,
I would not mind one bit.

Maybe this is just a dream...
somebody pinch me so I know this is real
and not just some fantasy.

Reality pulls me back into the chasm of the church,
and as he is preparing to exit, he looks back
and we share another glance,
s t r e t c h i n g across the pews,
a lingering,
sparkling,
moment.
Searching for the cause for such curiosity
in each other's eyes.
Trying to make sense of it, I tilt my head down,
allowing myself a moment of thought.
My head snaps up, courage pulsing through my veins,
like I have just been cleansed, I feel refreshed.
I start making my way towards the doors to ask him his name,
but to my disappointment...
he is gone.

This mysterious, entrancing man has walked out.
The brightness of a rising run enveloping him,
leaving me with a mouthful of unsaid words
and a mind full of scattered imaginations.

I kneel down before God,
and pray for forgiveness
for lusting after a stranger I know nothing about
while in His presence.

And with that, shaken to my core,
I put on my mask that conceals my deepest emotions,
and go about my day like nothing ever happened.
Inspired by my boyfriend ♥
Dawn of Lighten Feb 2015
Ate with South Carolina supervisor with his wife and his parents! He is definitely a country boy, but very awesome lead tech! Thank god I been travelling around the states, while seeing the working environment as it is, and I must confess the southerners are truly nice people! I know good people lies within anywhere, but in the north (schools) it made it feel like the south was lagging in that department, and from experiences it's just media giving wrong impression also! It might be because I am only exposed to bigger cities, but thus far people in the south truly feel like a genuine people with good heart!

Aside from friends in Minnesota, which by the way were good people, it was very hard to feel in place with Minneapolis suburb area. I always had my guards up for racial tensions, and mis-treatment from officers for stupid ****, but in the south I honest don't feel like I have to prove anything to anyone! I feel at ease, and I feel job market is more equal in here! It might be because I am with fortune 500 company, and their culture is different, but in Target to Best Buy, and even the same company I work for now felt like they were always dividing people in Minnesota. So **** glad I no longer work for retail giants, while don't feel like I am getting segregated! I felt more like a human being in the southern states than I felt in the Minnesota, and mentally it was super exhausting, and emotionally depressing! While I felt discrimination in Minnesota, writing, art, and classical music was always my escape to ease abnormality I felt as a person! For the longest time I felt like the environment was choking the living life out of me, and I was suppose to be the bad guy in Minnesota! It felt like people were always judging for the wrong reason, and you couldn't hide yourself from those judging eyes, while they made alliances to back stab! If south is driven by racial overtone, then Minnesota was driven by undertones!  

I feel I belong here in the south, and meeting right people at the right places helps me feel like I'm a human being.
This is a self reflection I did in facebook today,  not a poem, but more like a journal!  While the experiences for people may differ depending on your social, racial, gender, and political views.  This is how I felt in Minnesota as an Asian American, and not simply as an American that we should be considering ourselves! In my humble opinion, Kentucky, Indiana, Tannessee, Arkansas, and now South Carolina have friendly people from my first impression!
The Wordsmith Feb 2015
True love doesn't exist, and neither does "The One",
                              You marry the person who ****** you off the least.
Sam Shoyer Jan 2015
the dark navy hood of his jacket
stretches a few inches
past his forehead,
concealing his face

he pulls a wagon
full of blue salt
across the pavement
while a flurry of snow
falls around him

in a quick and deliberate rhythm
he tosses the salt
out like a serious flower girl
quietly ensuring
that it all goes
as planned
Brittle Bird Jan 2015
These words all climb up,
sit on the tip of my tongue...
and then I swallow.
I can't hold on to these ideas;
unholdable things are my biggest challenge and my greatest joy.
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