chloe fleming Nov 20

i’ve felt more at home
cradled inside words
and rocked to sleep by stanzas
then ever being in your bed
i’ve felt growth most
when i’m speaking in tongue
and writing rhythms,
then ever talking to you
you planted my soil
then let me choke on it,
while you sucked the life from it.
i’m growing flowers and life inside
of this body,
i am reclaiming
the revelation
that has started it all
i am washing my art down my body
feeding myself with the love and passion
you never showed me
in this moment i am growing
and my art is ever flowing

Sam Aug 17

The days pass with haste
And I've grown to realize
Every fleeting moment is as valuable as the last
Time can't be reversed
So the answers aren't in memory
Rather, in the road ahead
They're down the broken pavement
Places waiting to be seen
And the future that I see
Belongs to you and me
I was reaching for your hand
Now I'm taking it in full
Chasing all the dreams
That we gave up on long ago

JR Morales Jul 11

Your heart has been broken.
I’ll pick up the pieces,
And glue them with kisses,
Back to life I will stroke them.
Let me fill your missing sections
With the shattered parts
Of my own broken heart,
And we’ll be each other’s resurrection.

Wounded and dissected,
Your soul thirsting exempt.
Imperfect, unkempt
As our kisses mend our rejected.
Let yourself into my affection,
Because I need it, too.
Our smile knows the truth:
We're the cure for our infection.

We tessellate in time:
I am a part of who you are,
And you are a part of mine.

Mosaic of us:
Broken in our own way,
Perfectly aligned
Along these jagged lines
To form a beauty unrefined.

Lighthouse keeper by the shore, watching life pass he did the most
Eyeing ships, so bright and lively, that would sail near his post
'Til one fateful night one ship seemed to be set ablaze
Gravitating toward the sight that was a rarity in all his days
One door he swung open, leaving his beacon, bolting downstairs
Of peril and risk, he cared not; to him they seemed like minor fares
Fiery reflections undulated from afar as the keeper dashed to shore
Yanking his rowboat into the water, he paddled toward the source
Opening his eyes truly, he awoke to hands without a single oar
Under a guise he would man his post distractedly in the night
Realizing that the ship was a dream, he turned around to a fright
Precariously placed lanterns had fallen, shattering as he slept
And flames began to claim his home and post, as if collecting a debt
Sleep walking had moved him to the shore, by grace he was alive
The lighthouse keeper would rebuild, but this time he would thrive

7-11-17 (Oh look, a palindrome date! I should book it to 7-11 for a Slurpee when I leave campus...)
It's an acrostic poem, so I hope you get the message.
The theme of this poem, the abandoned lighthouse, has been on my mind for at least three months, but I had not put pen to paper until 7-10-17. While initially thinking of the idea, I had planned to have the lighthouse burn with no conclusion of rebuilding, but in recent weeks I realized that had come from my past state of depression. I'm now starting a renewed life through God's grace and I knew I had to fix that today when I finally wrote and typed the poem out, although it did take four drafts to make something so simple.

Speak from thy heart
so that thy body can rid its desires of being lonely
Capture thy imagination and serenade my naked soul
If summer holds on
let her know that for autumn to come we all have to fall
Just speak from thy heart
and maybe Picasso might bless you with the gift of art
You have Mona Lisa's eyes and Helen Keller's Sight
So be blind to judgement, but open to love  
Try to see the unseen and feel the numb
Lose your mind and find it next to my heart,
because love makes us all insane
Speak from thy heart and maybe you might start to love again
Let me be your medicine and rid you of your pain

I've never been one for burning bridges.
Every time I've tried,
I rebuild to watch it crumple again.

The ashes aren't as strong as the cinder
used the very first time.
But, if I'm honest,

the fragility makes the spiral
much more meaningful.

If i had just one wish.
I'd be a mind reading lego character.
And youd be lego too.

Id listen to your every wish.
Rearrange my broken bricks, spare hair clicks too.
Id build the girl you dream of.

foundation bearers were removed
foundation bearers were removed
a rebuild of solid stanchions needed
a rebuild of solid stanchions needed
solid stanchions were removed
a rebuild of foundation bearers needed

upon high wall sat a man
upon high wall sat a man
owing they who put him there
owning they who put him there
they who put him upon wall high
the owing man sat a there

they'd withdrawn their buttressing
they'd withdrawn their buttressing
he crashed to the ground
he crashed to the ground
their buttressing crashed on the ground
they'd withdrawn he

upon a high wall sat a man
they'd withdrawn their buttressing
owing they who put him there
foundation bearers were removed
he crashed on the ground
a rebuild of solid stanchions needed

Tamal Kundu Dec 2016

To the shy hamlet vivid are the hardships of last year,

how the brazen river had surged in—ravishing, moulding,

branding beyond repair. And yet, when the summer air hums

in the hush before rain, once again, on the crumbling fields

rancid memories give way to emerald reveries.

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