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 Dec 2014 Ominous
Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.
 Dec 2014 Ominous
Catrina Sparrow
i'll leave behind a legacy of lengthy love poems
so that no reader could ever tell
     that i've never loved a heart who loved me back

i'll ensure that my body leave behind no bone unbroken
so no anthropologist would ever guess
     that i spent my entire life scared to death

and i'll fill each dusty corner of my tiny little house
with plants and books and trinkets of memories forgotten
so that the coroner could never publish
     how empty i really felt

oh-
          of all words i've ever spoken
    i pray that these will never read broken:

*i will sow this great earth with ideas for blooming
each incapable of death so that no child ever guess
    that i didn't live forever
love you, bisssh.
xxox
life

                          
                                ­                              is


                      
                      a


             ­ question


    till


    the

    last

   **day
shh! not one word
she says

these last few days
on the silent ride
we've loved more.
love is ever so hard
to  express in words
not handsome though
luck came my way
she found me out
loved me one day

loved me one day
then one day more
she gave me a place
took me indoor

took me indoor
let me be within
loved me the way
I had never been

I had never been
handsome though
she saw me through
in one go
what's in a look
there's beauty in silence
except when
it echoes a void.
I
am envious
of everything that
felt your touch today.
True story                                       <3
My poetry gets really dark when I'm hurting.
My poetry gets bubbly when my love-life starts to pick up.
My poetry gets short when I am broken.
My poetry gets weird when I am tired. Like, REALLY weird...
My poetry gets violent when I am angry. As in FREAKING violent.
My poetry gets dumb when I am bored.
but all of the words I write are made of genuine feelings
idk. stuff.
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