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Aaron Combs Jun 2020
This, this song I made you, let it pierce your heart,
like the silver moon earrings, the ones I gave you,close your eyes,

Let me hold you on high.
Let me hold you on high.

Like the Kansas fields that outnumber the stars,
let's walk on the wheat fields of gold, for even
if I can't forgive you, my heart will freely love you.

Over and over, over and over,

like red Georgia Peaches,  like Florida Beaches,
wave after wave, I’ll show you a new song,
So we can be one again,  let it all sweep you away.  
For the diamonds at dusk, are waiting for us.

For like the Chicago sunrise, let the power of it's sunrise,
sing you back to life, until you are alive and washed by dreams.

Embrace me, hold on, like a California dream, pretend it's just me,
like the ring on your finger, let this be,
let this be, a time between you and me.

For if you harden your heart, lets go back to one,
let me be like your silver moon earrings,

let me hold you on high.
let me hold you on high.
Alex Potter Feb 2017
I saw the news of that night,
I saw the people cower in fright,
I felt their love fall to the ground,
I knew the fear would spread around,
Down in the place called Orlando

The outed, the loved, the brave,
The ones in closets, dark like a cave,
The lonely, the lovely,
The ones like dogs stomping muddily,
Down in dear old Orlando.

No one had expected what came next,
It was something like text,
You read from a book,
Now don't ever look,
Down in Orlando.

What was once a place,
A very special space,
Space for those different than him,
He thought they were a sin,
Now it's no more in Orlando.

All they wanted was love,
But their souls flew like a dove,
No more of their musical,
Wonderful, beautiful,
Lives in Orlando.

To all those,
Who rose,
To the next place,
I give you good grace.
I am sorry for all that's been done,
I know sometimes life hasn't been fun,
But you didn't deserve,
To be served,
The final, the last,
Place. I'm sad that you passed,
Into death.
I know this was a while ago, but after the Pulse shooting in Orlando, I wrote this poem, and only just found out about Hello Poetry, so thought that it was the best place to post something like this. I hope you like it!
Febronia Ventura Jun 2016
I knew about you
because of the news

You were 2-yrs old
It was a happy day
Was supposed to be
A wonderful Disney trip

I couldn't stop thinking
I just couldn't

I felt so bad
I felt so much pain

Your body grabbed
by an animal
Your parents crying
the World praying

Why God?
I know I shouldn't ask you

The World is still praying
for the parents who lost a child

I'm trying to accept this lost

I didn't know you

But it bothers me

You were 2-yrs old.
"Some say love, it is a river"
How the tears flowed that night,
How the rain fell and wiped our cheeks,
How the wind caught our hair and blew in our faces,
How we cried.

"That drowns a tender reed"
How many fell that day,
How young, how old,
How free of fear until too late,
How quickly gone.

"Some say love, it is a razor"
How deep it cut so fast,
How much pain consumed us,
How the dark spilled into the streets,
How long will it last?

"That leaves your soul to bleed"
How to move on,
How none of us knew where to look,
How to smile again, or if we should,
How empty we were.

"Some say love, it is a hunger"
How it burned, the anger,
How the passion grew strong,
How a single raging desire filled us,
How it took over.

"An endless aching need"
How we stood together,
How we all dreamed and longed for a future,
How it is no longer a wish, but a necessity,
How it sits with us.

"I say love, it is a flower"
How as one we somehow felt better,
How those candles pierced the shadows,
How we joined hands and held tight,
How we wouldn't fall.

"And you its only seed"*
How the seeds were sown,
How their lives were lost,
How it must not happen again,
How death does not end them,
How one day those seeds will bloom,
And those flowers will not be laid by candles.
Dornish Bastard Jun 2016
Tragedy seems unreal,
Like a foreign movie.
I'm only a spectator
Front row for reality.
I see the shooter, the victims.
A hundred hired to act.
Fake blood paints pavements.
The bullets are blanks.

*But the bullets pierce
And the blood is warm.
A hundred targets are found.
Few to recover from harm.
There won't be a 'cut!'
No take four or take five.
This is no movie.
A shot takes a life.
I don't know what to say.
Riel Adriane Jun 2016
Nothing seems to be okay.
When I read the newspapers,
An imbecile killed gays.
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