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  Nov 2018 JDL
Elizabeth Zenk
control is a rich red hue,
control is warm, and deep.
it’s a destructive power,
and a stinging force.
a delicate line
between pain and serenity.

control is a rich red hue,
control tastes metallic.
like a cog in a machine,
and it comes around like clockwork.
a jagged dash
between insanity and knowledge

control is a rich red hue,
control melts like wax.
it evaporates within seconds,
and it dries within moments.
a recalcitrant scratch
between delusion and control
control is the sand dunes left behind once the red lakes dry up.
JDL Nov 2018
As
         Our
               world
       continues
   to hollow,
  The Torch of
   the selfless
  we
    must
     follow
JDL Nov 2018
You must do it the right way
YOUR way is the only write way

They say nothing rhymes with orange
Well I am here to encourage

Yeah, go ahead and laugh at it
You don’t even know the half of it

Our poetry is for us, ourselves
Whether you’re ninety nine, or twelve

We commune within our souls
Another etch upon our scrolls

Our soul inverted, exposed
Something only we compose

Don’t ever be discouraged
Your writing is encouraged!
HePo seems to be a very positive place for poets, but for those of you who have dealt with negativity about your poems, this is for you.

Also, for you critics out there, this is only my second “rap” poem so be nice plz. ;)
Positives feedback is of course always encouraged. :)
JDL Nov 2018
Head, body, flavor
Effervescent, ‘tis pleasant
With each sip savor
Oregon, Brewery’s abound.
JDL Nov 2018
Hundreds of years gone
With a few swings of an axe
Amber tears, so long...
So many ancient trees are lost each year. May this poem serve as both a memorial and a dedication to what has been lost.
JDL Nov 2018
Forest sentinel,
Bi-centennial
-Chop-
Feet of roots,
Fingers of shoots
-Chop-
Hands of stems,
Arms of limbs
-Chop-
Skin of bark,
Flesh of starch
-Chop-
Beard of moss,
Nothing of dross
-Chop-
Blood of sap,
Crack of snap
-Chop-
And that was that...
So many ancient trees are lost each year. May this poem serves as both a memorial and a dedication to what has been lost.
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