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"rutledge" poems
Profound, that he lost his sight. He couldn't get the harmonies to blend quite right, So he gave up seeing, For music was the life and the fiber in his being. He didn't need another soul To change his note from half to whole, For he had something else to hold, And music couldn't make his spirit old. So, he wed the chord, he played the piece, And he dubbed musicality the worst disease. Funny that a musical obsession Would correspond with loneliness at life's discretion. --Emily Rutledge
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Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
My Favorite Introvert
She didn't see the life left to be had, All she saw was Darling Dear dark and sad. She held so tightly Darling Dear, four years old Little did she know, Darling Dear had grown up dark and cold. Mama didn't know the strength in Darling Dear, Befriended by the shadows, she had no remaining fears. She loved Mama and Mama loved her back, But nothing was as beautiful as Darling Dear gone black. --Emily Rutledge
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Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
Mama's Not-So-Little Girl
~for Rob Rutledge!~ <> *too oft we do not invest Sensation in the under-appreciated, in the singular, oneword all that is needed,  all that is required to freely steal the breath away, and you stand up and shake your head, nay, your entirety, smiling at the fulsome perfection of* simplicity (The oneword?) Beautiful Sunday July 20th 6:36 am In the sunroom <>
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Jul 20, 2025
Jul 20, 2025 at 6:32 AM UTC
Pithy #6: Simplicity
The world tells their young That abstinence is old fashion, that innocence is over and done. That to make something of themselves They must give this much to someone else That *** paves the road to success. What standards should I view best? Am I a woman now? Look at me. trying to understand my insecurity Wallowing in pathetic purity They tell me I'll never find love for more than a day If I can't even let him get to second base. That I should give my innocence to him, I should join him in a ****** rhythm. That I should have fun and forget what the bible has to say, To find temporary bliss for a night and misery the following day. Maybe I should fall into the mainstream, Because popularity should fix my self esteem.. Am I a woman now? I've tried so hard to lock myself away, To keep myself pure in the light of day, But night comes around and leads my thoughts astray, Maybe *** is just a game we play. Perhaps I'll test the waters but on the ground my feet with stay I'll try things out but not go "all the way" Am I a woman now? God, I need you here right now. I went too far and broke every single vow Of innocence that I pledged to you. And asking for forgiveness is all I know to do. Am I a woman now? Being broken by the worlds expectation, Being deceived in my contemplation. Don't ever lose yourself, Not to birth control or the ****** on the shelf. Not to boys or to loneliness in the middle of the week, Be strong, be as much of yourself that you can possibly bear to be. Because the negativity and hatred of the earth, Will try to **** your spirit and tell you what your worth. We're no better than the world and *** is a natural inclination, But if we are the body of Christ we have a God-given obligation I'm scared, have I done what I'm supposed to do? Did I do what's right according to God or you? Am I a woman now? That's all I wanted, to be beautiful or gorgeous in someone else's eyes, But I think I've only accomplished that by the words that humans make into deadly lies. They looked so appealing and delicious, But I'd advise you to avoid something so malicious, Because there's remorse and expensive emotional debt, When we conform to the world and allow ourselves to forget, That God made *** a spiritual experience to share as a couple, Only with each other, It's a passionate emotion that should be known solely by a significant other, The two bound by marriage, in spirit, and with rings So that the world can see they Can show the world what each spirit brings To a relationship in Christ alone In whom my unwavering worth is known. Am I a woman now? --Emily Rutledge
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Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
Am I a Woman Yet?
The world tells their young That abstinence is old fashion, that innocence is over and done. That to make something of themselves They must give this much to someone else That *** paves the road to success. What standards should I view best? Am I a woman now? Look at me. trying to understand my insecurity Wallowing in pathetic purity They tell me I'll never find love for more than a day If I can't even let him get to second base. That I should give my innocence to him, I should join him in a ****** rhythm. That I should have fun and forget what the bible has to say, To find temporary bliss for a night and misery the following day. Maybe I should fall into the mainstream, Because popularity should fix my self esteem.. Am I a woman now? I've tried so hard to lock myself away, To keep myself pure in the light of day, But night comes around and leads my thoughts astray, Maybe *** is just a game we play. Perhaps I'll test the waters but on the ground my feet with stay I'll try things out but not go "all the way" Am I a woman now? God, I need you here right now. I went too far and broke every single vow Of innocence that I pledged to you. And asking for forgiveness is all I know to do. Am I a woman now? Being broken by the worlds expectation, Being deceived in my contemplation. Don't ever lose yourself, Not to birth control or the ****** on the shelf. Not to boys or to loneliness in the middle of the week, Be strong, be as much of yourself that you can possibly bear to be. Because the negativity and hatred of the earth, Will try to **** your spirit and tell you what your worth. We're no better than the world and *** is a natural inclination, But if we are the body of Christ we have a God-given obligation I'm scared, have I done what I'm supposed to do? Did I do what's right according to God or you? Am I a woman now? That's all I wanted, to be beautiful or gorgeous in someone else's eyes, But I think I've only accomplished that by the words that humans make into deadly lies. They looked so appealing and delicious, But I'd advise you to avoid something so malicious, Because there's remorse and expensive emotional debt, When we conform to the world and allow ourselves to forget, That God made *** a spiritual experience to share as a couple, Only with each other, It's a passionate emotion that should be known solely by a significant other, The two bound by marriage, in spirit, and with rings So that the world can see they Can show the world what each spirit brings To a relationship in Christ alone In whom my unwavering worth is known. Am I a woman now? --Emily Rutledge
Continue reading...
61
I won't take back the path I took And I can't change the ground it shook To face the earthquake of tough decisions And the natural disaster of life revisions. Nothing takes the earth apart like looking to the past To remember the different kinds of love that wouldn't last. I'd tell you ours was different, but the rubble begs to differ, Each night I rest in the freezing makes my bones grow stiffer. We're a dying race. God is showing us our place. We aren't all we think we are, We won't survive without a scar, But maybe we can climb out of this abyss, If as a species we remember this: We respect the rain, as she falls by design, But neglect the lightning and pretend extinction's fine. We stand in awe as snow falls asleep on the ground, Everything's peaceful until we're frozen like the snow all around. Desensitized to tragedy, Immune to life and gravity, Death becomes the living And apathy keeps giving. Will we step up, get up, and prove the flesh is wrong, Or lay down and stay down, to admit that we're not strong? How could we let hope die in vain, And, without a fight, return to the dust where we belong? Life seems well composed, happy and satisfied, Until we face the wind that blows, and scramble so much to strategize Just to protect the house we've built, That stands so proud until the lilies wilt And prove that all along, there was nothing we could do To keep the hurricane from killing the righteous few. Myself not included, there are honest men, Though we wonder where all our leadership has been. Now's the time to step up and do what's right, Our lives may flood, but we won't drown without a fight. We respect the rain, as she falls by design, But neglect the lightning and pretend extinction's fine. We stand in awe as snow falls asleep on the ground, Everything's peaceful until we're frozen like the snow all around. Desensitized to tragedy, Immune to life and gravity, Death becomes the living And apathy keeps giving. Will we step up, get up, and prove the flesh is wrong, Or lay down and stay down, to admit that we're not strong? How could we let hope die in vain, And, without a fight, return to the dust where we belong? We fight pain and constant pressure until the top explodes, But we won't give up until we've exhausted all the roads, Looking for a way out, preferably the best, But if that fails, we'll make do with any of the rest. It's hard to see with the ash impairing our sight, But even in darkness, through fire, we strive for what is right. The only way to keep the magma from burning through the earth, Is to show the nature around us what righteousness is worth. We respect the rain, as she falls by design, But neglect the lightning and pretend extinction's fine. We stand in awe as snow falls asleep on the ground, Everything's peaceful until we're frozen like the snow all around. Desensitized to tragedy, Immune to life and gravity, Death becomes the living And apathy keeps giving. Will we step up, get up, and prove the flesh is wrong, Or lay down and stay down, to admit that we're not strong? How could we let hope die in vain, And, without a fight, return to the dust where we belong? Maybe nature is the trees and all the flowers Or maybe it's the sum or lack there of of human powers. You decide what you defend and what you think is true, Because it's passion and conviction that truly define you. We respect the rain, as she falls by design, But neglect the lightning and pretend extinction's fine. Death becomes the living And apathy keeps giving. Will we step up, get up, and prove the flesh is wrong, Lay down and stay down, to admit that we're not strong? Or will we, so soon, return to the dust where we belong? --Emily Rutledge
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May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 2:45 AM UTC
Soul Searching at the End of the Earth
I won't take back the path I took And I can't change the ground it shook To face the earthquake of tough decisions And the natural disaster of life revisions. Nothing takes the earth apart like looking to the past To remember the different kinds of love that wouldn't last. I'd tell you ours was different, but the rubble begs to differ, Each night I rest in the freezing makes my bones grow stiffer. We're a dying race. God is showing us our place. We aren't all we think we are, We won't survive without a scar, But maybe we can climb out of this abyss, If as a species we remember this: We respect the rain, as she falls by design, But neglect the lightning and pretend extinction's fine. We stand in awe as snow falls asleep on the ground, Everything's peaceful until we're frozen like the snow all around. Desensitized to tragedy, Immune to life and gravity, Death becomes the living And apathy keeps giving. Will we step up, get up, and prove the flesh is wrong, Or lay down and stay down, to admit that we're not strong? How could we let hope die in vain, And, without a fight, return to the dust where we belong? Life seems well composed, happy and satisfied, Until we face the wind that blows, and scramble so much to strategize Just to protect the house we've built, That stands so proud until the lilies wilt And prove that all along, there was nothing we could do To keep the hurricane from killing the righteous few. Myself not included, there are honest men, Though we wonder where all our leadership has been. Now's the time to step up and do what's right, Our lives may flood, but we won't drown without a fight. We respect the rain, as she falls by design, But neglect the lightning and pretend extinction's fine. We stand in awe as snow falls asleep on the ground, Everything's peaceful until we're frozen like the snow all around. Desensitized to tragedy, Immune to life and gravity, Death becomes the living And apathy keeps giving. Will we step up, get up, and prove the flesh is wrong, Or lay down and stay down, to admit that we're not strong? How could we let hope die in vain, And, without a fight, return to the dust where we belong? We fight pain and constant pressure until the top explodes, But we won't give up until we've exhausted all the roads, Looking for a way out, preferably the best, But if that fails, we'll make do with any of the rest. It's hard to see with the ash impairing our sight, But even in darkness, through fire, we strive for what is right. The only way to keep the magma from burning through the earth, Is to show the nature around us what righteousness is worth. We respect the rain, as she falls by design, But neglect the lightning and pretend extinction's fine. We stand in awe as snow falls asleep on the ground, Everything's peaceful until we're frozen like the snow all around. Desensitized to tragedy, Immune to life and gravity, Death becomes the living And apathy keeps giving. Will we step up, get up, and prove the flesh is wrong, Or lay down and stay down, to admit that we're not strong? How could we let hope die in vain, And, without a fight, return to the dust where we belong? Maybe nature is the trees and all the flowers Or maybe it's the sum or lack there of of human powers. You decide what you defend and what you think is true, Because it's passion and conviction that truly define you. We respect the rain, as she falls by design, But neglect the lightning and pretend extinction's fine. Death becomes the living And apathy keeps giving. Will we step up, get up, and prove the flesh is wrong, Lay down and stay down, to admit that we're not strong? Or will we, so soon, return to the dust where we belong? --Emily Rutledge
Continue reading...
80
~ for Rob Rutledge - @ 6:15am ~~~~~ we all are living, reading and writing, paycheck to paycheck even if by happenstance, our bellies full, for the white sheets we lay our words down and upon, our supporters of ids and egos of egg shell thin lifes are the bare emptied shelves of our unending, still ongoing pandemic pandemonium, razing times of eroding joys the sheets are blank, but our souls wearied, helmed and whelmed by the unending of the unexpected that demands, orders and commands, no matter what pour it out blasting unleashing the rage compelled, compiled, completely compulsing we selves ordered to compose giving form and firmament to our vaporous innards, releasing new oxygen from the tides inside and without, clashing ideas, irregular notions that demand we poets responsible for reconciliation and auditing for human truths we awake barren but weighty, the emotions are rustling in the now daily, common, mighty metors of gusts of higher winds, spreading fire and measles to spite, not despite our fragile failings & flailings oh goodness and grace, let that be the colors of our skin, our face, essay on, sashay with a swinging motion, yes, rhyme and rhythm and deliver us with words so soft, they shatter the gloomy desperation of what confronts our entirety, when the terrors of our sleeping dreams cannot be differentiated from the sad eyed waking ones so write, and right, these troubled times, when trolls, dragons and yet unnamed monsters seek to take away our tiny green planet, watered, seeded and plentiful fruited plains enough to satisfy us all if we are so emboldened to choose all of us over our lonely selfish selfs
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Feb 25, 2025
Feb 25, 2025 at 6:31 AM UTC
and the readers will come like pilgrims to your holy land, wearied and yet so delightedly hopeful(1)
~ for Rob Rutledge - @ 6:15am ~~~~~ we all are living, reading and writing, paycheck to paycheck even if by happenstance, our bellies full, for the white sheets we lay our words down and upon, our supporters of ids and egos of egg shell thin lifes are the bare emptied shelves of our unending, still ongoing pandemic pandemonium, razing times of eroding joys the sheets are blank, but our souls wearied, helmed and whelmed by the unending of the unexpected that demands, orders and commands, no matter what pour it out blasting unleashing the rage compelled, compiled, completely compulsing we selves ordered to compose giving form and firmament to our vaporous innards, releasing new oxygen from the tides inside and without, clashing ideas, irregular notions that demand we poets responsible for reconciliation and auditing for human truths we awake barren but weighty, the emotions are rustling in the now daily, common, mighty metors of gusts of higher winds, spreading fire and measles to spite, not despite our fragile failings & flailings oh goodness and grace, let that be the colors of our skin, our face, essay on, sashay with a swinging motion, yes, rhyme and rhythm and deliver us with words so soft, they shatter the gloomy desperation of what confronts our entirety, when the terrors of our sleeping dreams cannot be differentiated from the sad eyed waking ones so write, and right, these troubled times, when trolls, dragons and yet unnamed monsters seek to take away our tiny green planet, watered, seeded and plentiful fruited plains enough to satisfy us all if we are so emboldened to choose all of us over our lonely selfish selfs
Continue reading...
65
Plastered to the atmosphere Breathing in my almost fear Of being lost or being here Or being the cry I've begun to hear When I've become dust in the stratosphere When the sun expands and burns away A million cells of human display. Like the H from two O All my senses begin to go. I'm the afraid and lost That comes with the daunting cost Of my life unraveled Like a galaxy untraveled. I've fallen into space. I've finally found my place. I'm nothing in a galaxy of existential being Not worth hearing. Not worth seeing. Just a little star dust Cast out from the sun But life broke my trust And the universe won. --Emily Rutledge
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Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 1:37 AM UTC
Black Matter
Ragged breath pushed through lips paperthin and dry Clouded moons in once sparkling eyes Skin of face folded and creased by years of laughter Age has wearied you beyond repair Your first foot treads heavily upon heavens stair And in this pastel room the reward for a life of care As we come to usher you away to your final, hopeful jubilee day All have come, none have missed the opportunity to thank you for, the gifts you gave... One word of kindness, from your lips ripples through the lives you touched and all your students learnt well to live, love and give freely, of caring humanities touch. In this pastel room, we stand, touching one last time, the gnarled and giving hand And when we leave, we do weep for loss, but also joy.... knowing your soul does keep to the pieties of love. So in the days to come, know your grace will live on through lives and generations your teaching will be the yardstick to which our hearts are measured YOUR WORDS, YOUR LIFE, REMEMBERED AND TREASURED
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Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
That Pastel Room(for John Rutledge)
I miss my friends. While they laugh, revel and skip. I miss the point While I hide, cower and drip. I miss my friends. While they fly, displace and ascertain. I miss the invite. While I spin, clot and complain.
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Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 11:47 AM UTC
Rutledge ave.
You're so much more than me. And all I'll ever be, Is the shadow in your head, And the sum of all the things you've ever said. I'm like the past that haunts you. I'm the dark that wants you. You don't deserve rain on your parade, But I'd be honored to be some mistake you made. You don't deserve a mistake like me, You don't deserve faith as fake as me. All I want is you. All I want is faith that's new. I want you to lead me with strong hands To lead me to peace in God's plans. The truth is,I would hold you down, You don't need me around. I wish that I was worth enough I wish I was worth your love. But here I am. Vulnerable in my desire, With nothing to offer but to hold you higher Than anything else on earth. I don't know how to tell you what you're worth.. --Emily Rutledge
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Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
Real Talk
The sun woke up and followed its destined direction. Light covered the lake like a layer of protection and danced with its droplets like love ever after. But when night came, she silenced their laughter and the two spoke softly, water and light. They grew in their love as they danced through the night and when the next morning came and asked for her hand, she knew there would never be light like his to cover the land. --Emily Rutledge
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Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
Sunset
Calico gloomy rail yards Steel vessels whine , brakeman - locking cars against Winter sky backdrops Painted horseman bound for Augusta - tonight , through Conyers , Rutledge and Union Point Eastbound dedication passing rural depots , breaking the twilight silence - for many a mile , lighting each crossing - as it slowly rumbles down the meandering line ...
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Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 11:06 PM UTC
Midnight Delivery ...
In a room full of people I thought I'd met, But fell in love because I lost a bet. All these people, so many strangers, Amazing that my family could be so many different dangers. At least I have a soul to rely upon, How can all the others be so far gone? --Emily Rutledge
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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC
House-Not-Home
They were constant company But I took them like they were something free. I never need the ground beneath my feet when I'm flying And I never need the air I breath until I'm dying. But something about reaching for the moon in the height of the night, Or inhaling the wind when my timing seems right Always leads to a lonely life and broken soul And just when I see my dream, I feel gravity pull Me back to earth, back to who I have now, Away from the love this hell won't allow. All I want is to see beyond the sky To reach up and embrace the stars before I die. But I'm stuck alone In a house I can't call my own. Unhappy with the people around me. Routine crept through the dirt and found me. All I want Is someone new But no other star stands out like you. It's a **** shame I'm bound to an earth like this, When you're of another world, in a fantasy of bliss. So I'll stay home and fake some kind of joy. While the people all around me misread an unhappy boy, Because they're too tangible and real, But it's the supernatural love I long to feel. For now I'll look ahead and hope with all I've got, That god will grant me blessing for all the hell I've fought, Maybe tomorrow when the sun rises alone, It will bring with it a new reality I'll finally deem my own. --Emily Rutledge
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Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC
I Can't Move On.
you were home and I was the traveler. And I moved from continent to continent as the world was spinning faster We held hands and rearranged the mountains, We swam in each abyss below the waterfalls, the world's greatest fountains. And we were never stayed in one place, But danced with discovery at a romantic pace Because I was in love with my home And you fell in love with the unknown. There was so much more to life Than paying bills and being a wife, And there was so much more to passion than a monotonous job and everything old fashioned. We made everyday something new, And if anything led me to believe in blessings it was you. So tomorrow we'll cross the ocean, We'll be brave and in love as we conquer the motion Of an ever changing life, and ever changing existence, All I'd ever love in life was home and your gentle resistance To all that the world told us to be. Because now. I'm happy with you and you are happy with me. --Emily Rutledge
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Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
We
Where I'm from, turbulence is arbitrary and the top layer is a dream Violence and suicide hidden by pastel pinks and blues A fragile frosted shell Where I'm from, dark secrets come from a college in Santa Monica Where someone drank too much And no didn't work enough My dad was in custody of the state 9 months later Where I'm from, we pride ourselves in Edward Rutledge Who picked up a pen in 1776 How does a single signature outweigh A blurred auburn plantation in South Carolina The sweet scent of fat, and the relatives I'm not allowed to meet The men under another red, white, and blue flag Where I'm from, pills are passed out like candy Anxiety, depression, take your pick My second cousin, she jumped off a bridge We don't talk about her Where I'm from, my cousins are bi-racial I take pride in myself, and will never fall back On racism, sexism, words that make my skin crawl Where I'm from, I'll never stay silent again.
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Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 7:31 PM UTC
Where I'm From