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"katelyn" poems
to my Madolyn, Rob , Soliana, Malak, Pinkpearl, Daniel, BJ, Miki, Jules, Willow, Poets Rain, Her, Ashan, Billy, Katelyn, Kirstens, Leah, Emily, Liz, Skyler, HB, Danielle, Robin, Lynnie, Veer, Abigail, and Fawn We haven't been here long At all But your support has been overwhelming ...to us at least We haven't written masterpieces At all But your responses have been overpowering ...to us at least Know we notice you, Know we recognize you, and try to get to know you through the words you present We could never repay you At all But, please, don't forget we love you ...to say the least We are honored We will always work to honor you Sincerely yours, A&T (seriously not a ripoff) P.S. I can't handle anymore people so you guys are going to have to help me ****** anyone new coming over. I'll pay.
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Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 3:38 AM UTC
This is not a thank you, this is a love letter.
I wish that Katelyn lived closer Drunk dialing would go a little more smoothly for me if she at least lived in a neighboring city I said I would crawl to you and I would but I'd hardly make it to the end of the street let alone over the state line before inevitable collapse I wish that Kristi didn't disappear My mind would be a little more at ease if I knew why you vanished in the first place Questions would have answers ego would be pieced back together and that foolish hopeful flame would (hopefully) be extinguished I wish that Caitlyn wasn't so sweet a cavity of the heart made the sugar maddening but you still were so true sometimes I find myself wanting that madness again to be alone in company and calamity, to feel someone's gaze in total love and acceptance; most times I don't I wish that Angie wasn't spoken for I respect your loyalty, I do You don't come by that very often But don't you just want to cast that aside? Don't you want to succumb and give in? Just this once, let your desires win But that's just my desire talking Don't listen I wish I wasn't so convinced now, so cold All I know is the cruelty buried underneath mesmerizing complexities I also wish my **** didn't burn so bad coming out, so, now I don't know what to think anymore
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Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
2-ply for your thoughts
I once met the most beautiful girl but she was also the most broken she was just as shatered as the mirror I broke because I couldnt stand my reflection. I think she was beautiful because her frown was the most genuine thing that was is real in this world. She sang once, but the birds didnt care to sing along, because her voice was never heard I think she was beautiful not because she was angry, sad, hopeless,suicidal,fragile but because she was still standing she was beautiful because after everything she was the only one still standing.
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Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
Katelyn
I'm called a lot of names But the name I go by the most is Renita Its my middle name but its the other me My second life hidden behind my first name Renita will always be my actual name For my depressed,Unhappy,crushed,hurt self My first is like my beautiful lie Katelyn might be bubbly and happy But check behind her and you'll find Renita "Do you really know how much pain can be in one person,one girl,one me"
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Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
I,Me,Katelyn,Renita,My Idenitity
Why? Why did I love you? Why did I trust you? I knew you would only hurt me But I guess i was to foolish to see it. Why did I say yes? Why couldn't I guess what was to happen? You were stupid to lose me Because now you may never have me. You only made me happy But I see it was only a front I had. I wish you were more mature To really see how you felt Because if you did look inside You would have seen I really meant nothing to you. I am truly happy now. Can't you see it? So why do you always try and ruin it? I am happy with someone Who you can't take me from. Her name is Katelyn Janelle And she will always be mine. You will never have me As long as we are happy together. So again I ask myself Why did I love you? Why?
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Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 3:55 AM UTC
Why?
“you can't go home,” said thomas wolfe, “back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed ever lasting but which are changing all the time.” but...here i am. i've shattered that idea like expensive broken china, like the mirrors i shattered within the 72 hours of being back here in texas, the state of volatile weather patterns and skeletons i've hid in the toybox in the attic upstairs. he said, “i can't go back home to my childhood.” thomas, i have retained memories like these and kept them hidden in the jewelry box along with the lock of my hair i cut with scissors purposely when i was seven tied up in a bow. i've uncovered artifacts from my past, refuting your statement. thomas said, “i cannot go back home to aestheticism.” as he believes the small-town image i exist within will shapeshift at will and without hesitation. another thing, he mentioned, “i cannot go back home to one's youthful idea of 'the artist' and the all-sufficiency of 'art' and 'beauty' and 'love'.” landmarks still stand out to me. the bridge connecting both parks nearby my house overlooking a large lake at the peak of the golden hour is sufficient enough for art. it is sufficient enough to be considered something of beauty, that needs to be captured. it is sufficient enough to remember i've loved and lost so many things on this bridge. thomas said, “i cannot go back home to the father you have lost and have been looking for.” but thomas, i have recently faced my dad with red glazed-over eyes, and he has always been looking out for me. he has always shone a beacon towards me, yet i've been so terrified of following the lights in fear of losing my shadows. you told me, “i cannot go back home to someone who can help you, save you, ease the burden for you.” all i have been doing is surrounding myself with people who can help me, save me, and ease my burdens. and i can't help but notice gaps in these moments when you say, “you're back home to the escapes of time and memory, but katelyn, remember, the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting are rapidly changing all the time.” and i notice the large gaps like amnesia blackouts. sorrow can handle long distance relationships, but i can not.
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Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 4:06 AM UTC
to thomas wolfe
“you can't go home,” said thomas wolfe, “back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed ever lasting but which are changing all the time.” but...here i am. i've shattered that idea like expensive broken china, like the mirrors i shattered within the 72 hours of being back here in texas, the state of volatile weather patterns and skeletons i've hid in the toybox in the attic upstairs. he said, “i can't go back home to my childhood.” thomas, i have retained memories like these and kept them hidden in the jewelry box along with the lock of my hair i cut with scissors purposely when i was seven tied up in a bow. i've uncovered artifacts from my past, refuting your statement. thomas said, “i cannot go back home to aestheticism.” as he believes the small-town image i exist within will shapeshift at will and without hesitation. another thing, he mentioned, “i cannot go back home to one's youthful idea of 'the artist' and the all-sufficiency of 'art' and 'beauty' and 'love'.” landmarks still stand out to me. the bridge connecting both parks nearby my house overlooking a large lake at the peak of the golden hour is sufficient enough for art. it is sufficient enough to be considered something of beauty, that needs to be captured. it is sufficient enough to remember i've loved and lost so many things on this bridge. thomas said, “i cannot go back home to the father you have lost and have been looking for.” but thomas, i have recently faced my dad with red glazed-over eyes, and he has always been looking out for me. he has always shone a beacon towards me, yet i've been so terrified of following the lights in fear of losing my shadows. you told me, “i cannot go back home to someone who can help you, save you, ease the burden for you.” all i have been doing is surrounding myself with people who can help me, save me, and ease my burdens. and i can't help but notice gaps in these moments when you say, “you're back home to the escapes of time and memory, but katelyn, remember, the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting are rapidly changing all the time.” and i notice the large gaps like amnesia blackouts. sorrow can handle long distance relationships, but i can not.
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37
Oh little Angel forever loved, Surrounded by your family up above. Robert & Amy by your side, My three angels gone to hide. Play safe and soft, gently remember this, I send each one my love and gentle kiss. My heart still aches the tears still flow, I'm waiting patiently down below. Oh how I wish I could have minded you so, Katelyn, Robert & Amy I never wanted you all to go.
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Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 12:00 PM UTC
My Angels
Alicia, Brynde, Braden, Kate, This one's for you, My children.... Alicia came upon a wish, Surprise, surprise! Our lives could never be the same, Bright and pretty, Intelligence to stun.... Brynde followed within two years To join her sister, To make life full, A way with Daddy's heart, A feisty soul, And willful charmer of bees. Braden's entrance brought me joy, To join me as our only boy, A melancholy son at times, but sharp At math and quick debate, Able bodied little man now tall and strong, I am so glad you came along. When Katelyn joined our band of five, We both were stunned, and yet the joy You brought us with your winning smiles, Your brains and voice and dancer beauty Cannot be measured, can't be bought. As I am growing old, I've cried my share of tears, I've laughed and raved and mourned the years, I thought my work was in another place away From you, my bonnie bairns, but as the years come on, I must give thanks for you...each one, And count myself a man so blessed To have four children safely born, To have a loving wife, My only love, and Mother of you all.
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Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
Father's Day Poem
Dear time, Oh how you seem to fly by When I look into the eyes Of my dear old grandfather Throughout my whole life, He keeps ticking away At times he is fast as Usain Bolt during the Olympics But at others he drags along, Like a kid with a backpack full of homework When I get to the end of the road I will look back on how great my grandfather was, And reflect on all the things I could've done with him. But now I still have my time with him And I will make every second last -Katelyn
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
Letter #1
Dear grandfather, I watch you age before my eyes. Throughout my whole life, You keep ticking away. At times you are fast as Usain Bolt during the Olympics But at others you d r a g a l o n g, Like a kid with a backpack full of homework When I get to the end of the road I will look back on how great you were, And reflect on all the things I could've done with you. But now I still have my time with you And I will make every second last -Katelyn
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
Letter #2
Katelyn has this intensity I can only describe with her eyes As they focus on mine Almost feral When rhythm pulsed, and she took My palm in hers Pulling me from seat to floor As bodies rocked around us– I thought it might be her eyeliner Or the smoke drifting between us. Maybe I was the focus, or the idea Kept within alcoholic ferver, While I was mid answer To her question, held in the pause Of her sway, of her strut, of her Break, reach, pivot, and turn. My hand rest upon her waist Yet I felt her control, Leading me from anxiety To something a little less Hesitant.
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Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 10:40 AM UTC
Late Night Encouragement