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 Jan 2014 LonelyPoet
Kristen D
I can’t wait to grow up,
to have the freedom to dress how I want, whether that’s sweats or skirts;
to talk how I want, and have my opinions matter;
and do what I want when I want, and not be held back.

I can’t wait to look back on life,
and see that what I thought was an endless mountain of troubles,
was just a grain of sand in a desert.

To laugh at my old journals and scrapbooks,
admiring the innocence and individuality,
vowing to never forget.

I can’t wait to run my own life,
to be my own authority,
and not be inspected like a creature under a microscope.

I can’t wait to get a job,
follow my desires and dreams from childhood,
and to be able to support myself and be my own role model.

I can’t wait to live on my own,
to spend endless days in a cozy apartment reading, getting lost in someone else’s story,
and playing my guitar, washing away my worries and stress like a waterfall.

Singing at the top of my lungs,
having movie marathons every weekend,
and going to bed whenever I please.

I can’t wait to find my one true love,
to spend the rest of my life with them, trusting like I never have before,
fitting together like lost puzzle pieces.

To exchange the classic vows,
dressed in white and black, with a touch of pink,
our families crying and laughing all night.

I can’t wait to have children,
to give them my heart and soul,
watch them grow up, déjà vu at its finest.

Taking care of them day to day,
from scratches to unstoppable giggles,
their green eyes shining with wonder and innocence.

I can’t wait to grow old,
still with my one love, in a little house with a white picket fence,
watching our grandchildren laugh and play.

Passing down years of wisdom,
young ears eager to listen to our mistakes and stories from a long life together,
helping them prepare for their futures.

I can’t wait to grow up.
I can’t wait to love.
I can’t wait to live.
Write a poem
Simple enough
Words on paper
Grammar incomplete
Diction obsolete
How hard could it be
To be a poet

After all, it’s line after line
A few words at a time
Throw in a twist
A rhyme or a list
Of
Single
Words
See, I did it too
How hard could it be
To be a poet

And what’s that nonsense
Deep metaphors
And soul windows death doors
Throw in a few phrases
Laugh at the mazes
Of meaning and subterfuge
A Monet in The Louvre
Who can tell if you’re right or wrong
Because it’s poetry and poetry’s song
Written out in words that have barely got a beat
Kinda like Thanksgiving with only bone without the meat
How hard could it be
To be a poet

But it is hard
Because it’s not about
Rhyme or reason
There is not formula
For the words on the page
For the way the ink smudges
Or the words tend to run
The tears that paint your face
The paintbrush that paints that vase
Poetry is not so easy
It’s the mind at it’s home speaking a language of it’s own
It’s when tongue is too slow
To encumbered
To lazy
To hide the nuance in it’s niche
To hide the complexity in it’s written form
***** rhyme
**** meter
Because it’s not about the count of the syllable
The references to parable
It’s about the heart behind the head
Pushing word out of word
From the ink on the page
To the hearts of another age
So how hard is it to be a poet?
It’s easy
Write freely.
adapted from my blog
Trust is like
handing someone
a candle
in a storm
and expect them to
keep it burning.
"That is why I use flares."

Greatest answer ever.

:-)

For my fire.
Fifteen years since I was safe.
Six years since I had a peace of mind.
One year, six months since our first kiss.
One year since our last.
Ten months since I last felt your touch.
Eight months since we had a conversation.
Seven months, five days since were were together.
Two months since it rained.
Two weeks since I last cried.

Three seconds since I last thought of you.

*My memory is my greatest enemy.
****** feelings for a ****** person.
Inspired by a story.
 Jan 2014 LonelyPoet
bb
I shook hands with the monster under my bed tonight, correction: I dragged the monster out by his ankles and I introduced myself and I shook his hand. It was cold, and it felt like you. It was cold, and I wanted to hold it forever, I really did. Maybe it would make up for lost time and all those chances I never took with your fingertips when I had the opportunity.  The truth is, I didn't meet a monster. I met a childhood fear and some dust bunnies and a little bit of my own self; the truth is, monsters don't live under your bed because they lay beside you, under your sheets, at times on top of you, maybe they are spilling lies in your mouth and whispering secrets to your teeth, maybe monsters live in your mirrors, calling you names, maybe monsters touch you in your sleep, maybe monsters have big hands that feel like home but then you remember you're a runaway.
 Jan 2014 LonelyPoet
Katie Day
You
 Jan 2014 LonelyPoet
Katie Day
You
Part 1;* *Love

I want to climb inside your skin,
Make a home in your brain,
And listen.

I want to know more about you than anyone,
To predict what you’ll say,
But to listen regardless,
Because I love the way you say it.

I want to understand,
To feel each line on your skin,
And scar on the walls of your heart,
And to know the stories that made them.

I want to know you so well,
That sometimes we forget we’re two people,
When it’s late,
And we’re awake,
More comfortable together
Than we are in our own flesh.

Let me in. Let me wear you.
Let me know what it’s like to suffer your downs,
And ride your ups,
And I’ll show you my wounds,
And expose to you my thoughts,
Until we know each other
Better than we know ourselves.

Part 2; The Boy

If I am careless,
if I allow my mind to wander,
I sometimes still
taste
the smoke from your lips.

It’s the wrong place,
and the wrong time,
but my heart still
jumps
into my throat
when I remember your touch.

If I could pick up the phone,
and tell you how I miss those
stolen kisses,
I would.
But jeopardy terrifies me
and I’d rather not dive headfirst
down that whirlpool just yet.

Part 3; The Reconciliation

I know that we used to be
so different,
so full of life,
so full of love.

That you were once
energetic,
excited, and
enthralled,
and I, for a time,
was compassionate,
caring and
considered.

I know that we were once
different people,
with different stories
and different hopes.

We may have lost our way,
become somebody we wouldn’t even have
recognised as being
us,
if we met ourselves 5 years ago,
but remember that
we recognise each other now.

I know your innermost
thought
and your
deepest distaste,
and I will
never
ask you to be anybody but
who you are today.

We might not be the same people
we were when we were 15,
but we are people who have
grown together,
and laughed together,
and loved together,
and we are people who have shared
so much
it would be impossible to leave this partnership
whole.

We have fused souls.

And as much as we may reminisce
and remember who we
used to be,
let’s just tonight remember
something more important.

Let us remember
who we are now,
and that it would be more
difficult for me to
tear myself from you
than to tear myself in half.

Part 4; The Decline

Postpone.

The silence at home
kills me,
so what’s the harm in
one more smoke,
anyway?

I spent more time
travelling miles to see you,
than I would ever care to
admit,
battling on bikes,
through sleet and snow,
to spend 30 minutes
over coffee.

Where did that go?

Now my house is not
my home,
because space to breathe is
scarce
and I am breathless just thinking
of the travel to my front door.

What do you do when the foundations
become unglued?

Nothing can rebuild
something that’s not demolished,
but destitute.

Part 5; The End

I can see our future,
Clearly,
For the first time,
And I hate it.

There are no fuzzy young faces,
No unknown sticky fingers,
No pattering of
A strangers’ feet
That somehow sound like
Home.

All I see are false smiles
And fake conversations
And the knowledge that
I’ll never
Know you
Again.
This isn't part of my challenge.
 Jan 2014 LonelyPoet
Elsbeth Poe
Stand up
Stand up for something
Anything
Sing out about the way
You want the world to be
Learn to listen
Learn to look for people
Desperately in need
Learn to love to read
Learn to love
Expand your mind and empathy
Be brave
Stand up and speak
With as much a voice inside
This your precious body
As Jesus, Budda, M.L.K.
Five foot five Mahatma Gandhi
"Be the change you wish to see.."
A world full of people
In much greater need
The things you say
And things you do
Can effect the world
Not just a few
Every person's
A link in the chain
Not thinking you matter
Causes disarray
Everyone has something to say
Especially sensing one's
Prone to feeling pain
If you don't speak up
And make a stand
It won't just go away
Beliefs don't make you better
Behavior makes that change
Speak for the weak
Not next week
Now
Do something
Feel proud
Not for you
But for the good you do
They'll try to shoot you down
Action scares those prone to shunning
Often those who surround
Are rut stuck, change haters
Trying to share their frown
They'll work to make you drown
Those efforts will abound
But anything that's worth the fight
Is not easily found

E.Poe
*January 2014
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