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Ria Aug 2017
This is first and last time I’ll write something for you
Remember the time wherein you promised to be with me?
Or the time when you told me you’d be there when I need you
I was so confident and assured that you won’t leave.

Still you left with no clues left behind
Wondering what might be the reason why
I thoughts I was blind
Blinded by the emptiness of anxiety

Never have I thought you’d leave me hanging
In the middle of nowhere
Confused, Scared and with the feeling of Longing
Walking and waiting alongshore.

A thought came rushing, telling me to stop
Cuz the person I’ve been looking for
Will never ever drop–
Even a single hint of indicator

But after all those things that happened
I’ll never forget the love you showed
The effort you gave,
And the sacrifices you made

I am here – still waiting for you to comeback
Wanting to know if you’re alright
As the girl you used to cherish, I want you to know I’m fine and well
And I’ll always be your ‘Best’
Melissa Calopiz Mar 2014
The restlessness of the people
The elegant city
Along with the formless game of our nervous and sporadic games
I admired the gardens
And the pale gold odor of the kiss-me-at-the-gate
It certainly was lovely
And I, a beautiful little fool
Hadn’t ceased looking
The astounding presence
And his well-loved eyes
And we danced while the church bells rang in the village alongshore
The world and its mistress
Twinkled hilariously on the lawn
And living an illusion never felt so extraordinary
This was an english assignment: write a "found poem" (a poem created from lines from a book) using The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald
In memory of an unmemorable 4th of August
On a once calm, but malicious day of 2020
Eyes were blinded by unforgivable eruptions
That stormed its rage alongshore Beirut
Banging down the mightiest of towers
Too overwhelming to be recognizably real
Too agonizing to be tolerably sensible
All witness bodies of wandering souls
Of victims heaped beneath breathless rubble
Of dust streams escaping through mindless erections

In memory of an aching 4th of August
From an unknown hour, as an alarming clock strikes six-o-eight
Ears were deafened by voiceless sobs
Of too many people chained in abominable wounds
Echoing thunders through audacious streets
Such a calamity we had to endure
Such a misery we are destined to co-opt
Each would rise again in delirium
In fervor for a melodrama
In search for the shielded guilty

In memory of a treacherous 4th of August
After a long-lost year in mourning distress
Six-o-eight is vividly reborn when
Hand-in-hand all stand upright
Weak but willful for a cause
Tormented yet woven in hope
To walk the walls of beloved Beirut
To carry up high its bleeding flags
To soothe spoken words of a sorrowful mother
“Death is my hope that shall take me to my son”

In memory of a promising 4th of August
The six-o-eight shall ring its bell
And scream “Hail down to the defendants!”


           NHH                                                              ­     "Plume"
(From a pounding heart that beats“Letters Behind EveryTruth,” and in full dedication to the Lebanese Community worldwide, I humbly rob each and every one, near or far, from the disastrous moments  as my pen pronounces every letter in the poem)

— The End —