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lazarus Apr 2014
she, a willow wisp gone sour in the sunlight.
she, they said, a wide-eyed one time choking laugh
she, a too-bright moon with craters only calloused hands could read
she, they said
she bit her tongue with their teeth wrapped around her like spikes
she.

here I am to tell you that I am not she, I am not your word or prayer or curse. I will no longer let you confine to the the lower-case, huddled down, back room existence of she.

I am I, Me, Woman.

I am.
may, 2014.
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
You choked on chariots raw. Red egg yolk suppers, churned of the milk oceans this morning you kept.
The lintel of stone turned toward dusk. Some great dynasty of submissive spirits catering your morning
Out on a cart of muse, forms of heaven cannot even hear you. You are a soporific knot in the tale of your Old womanhood. In this infinite Tuesday morning your small black eyes, like an oil tanker toppling over The intense azure sea- shipwrecked, and lost.

Departing from your childhood you slurp Coca-Cola from a silver straw. From the corner store and inside Winter yawns. There is no face, only strikingly beautiful black hair. The body under you is at home in all
My hand's fingers have to fill. All the clothes that you could carry for the two-way adventure. There are
Never enough bubbles between your lips and the glass bottle you have. Only the score of the whistleblower. And the poor symphony you had prayed for into the dial-tone phone, the deep Wilderness, that stiff forever-ago budding from your coffee cup. Neurogenesis lifted from your Fingerprints and emblazoned into this lump of human ingenuity. The hopeless octave that cut us all short.    

Every short story that was left untold. There are the brief deaths recoiling in your spiritual architecture. The ****** of morphia has bourn me awake. Inside you are often unscathed, vanishing as some of Tonight's parts assemble you, on you blue is a beautiful color. The sweet retreat that gave you life or the bountiful deaths that counted you too cutely by your side. You are the sun in my black coat. Here is my sea, your sea, you'll see.
Written for Anna Farinola
jerely Apr 2014
There’s always a light in the dark that you cannot see

There’s always a whisper in the air that you breathe

And there’s always that someone who will care when you’re in need

There’s always that someone



Now tell me you won’t let me cry

So tell me that I am your best

And tell me that we’re perfect for each other

And tell me that I am the reason when you smile



There’s always a light in the dark that you cannot see

There’s always a whisper in the air that you breathe

And there’s always that someone who will care when you’re in need

There’s always that someone
A song that i just written today
It took me minutes to make it.

April 15, 2014
© jerelii
Kaye B Anderson Apr 2014
"I love you."

Their true feelings spoken, There's something to be said,
To share their feelings - they're no longer weak.
As they lay there in bed.
As they lay there unafraid to speak.

They can't see their future without one another.
A deep a relationship, they are almost there.
Emotions still roar like thunder.
Hopes and Dreams, they now share.

Not just sleeping together, but Making love.
They hide no secrets, Tell no lies.
Each other - They're proud of.
Arguments now lead to Compromise.

It's their first time.
Emotions take over.
Touching, Kissing, Feeling,
Passion - the wait is over.

Their feelings for each other, yet again, grow.
Every one gets along fine.
Questions, Answers, Conversations flow.
Nervous - Meeting the family for the first time.

He says he wants to be more serious - She agrees.
Relationship is stronger.
Arguments forgiven.

Would we happy with each other?
What we have, is this right?
Frustrated with each other.
First fight.

He is lost in her beauty.
Many Dates passed, the first now a memory.
Dates and Dinners, Drinks and Movies.
Date two, Date three.

The first kiss - He gave her.*
A memorable night.
Both on their best behaviour.
A romantic dinner over candlelight.

No hesitation shown.
Arranged first date - No-one stalled.
Spoke for the first time on the phone.
Nervous -  Dialling their number, *first call.


Exciting emotions unlocked.
The start of a relation.
Numbers swapped.
Shared a conversation.

**"Hello, Nice to meet you!"
Backwards Love.      ***READ POEM BACKWARDS***

ALSO READ BELOW:

A story told backwards, A poem written backwards. I started from the bottom to the top. From " Hello, Nice to meet you!" all the way to "I love you"

This poem can be read 4 ways:
1) From top to bottom.
2) From bottom to top. (backwards)
3) Read only the sentences in bold, from top to bottom, and of course,
4) Read only the sentences in bold, from bottom to top.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The name that came to mind for this poem, is 'Backwards Love', since writing this love story backwards was my intention. Though because it can be read four ways, I also thought of the title 'Love - Four ways'. What do you think?


              

   Copyright © 2014 All Rights Reserved by Kayelee (Kaye) B. Anderson.    
Warning: All of my work (poems/creative writing posted on hellopoetry.com) is protected by Copyright laws and I will not take any copying (stealing) of any of my work lightly.

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