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Poetry

Human
Submitted By: Lisa Crawley

November Submission /
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Wounded,

I hurt.

Sad,

I cry.

Broken,

I heal.

Upset,

I calm.

Happy,

I laugh.

Human,

I feel...

Lisa C....

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The Pages and I (wonders work words)
Submitted By: Nate Schaaf

September Submission /
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I write blues and I speak jazz.
The words that are licking the tip of my tongue
start this tingling a feeling, sensation.
I think in verse,
This poetry seeps through my pores.
I have something to say.

Your hand on my chest, touch my heart, nothing less,
but the glass it won't shatter and these feelings don't belong to me. I can't work wonders but wonders work words, work me, this prose a luxury that I can't afford.

Downtown and underground, this wit is sarcasm
drenched in your sweat, don't sweat it sweetly
surrender and drop.

...

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\"I Am a Free Spirit\"
Submitted By: Christine Bruness

June Submission /
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“I Am a Free Spirit”

An Affirmation & Meditation for Inner Peace, Strength, and Healing


I will heal
And not harm

I will love
And not hate

I will restore
And not demolish

I will help
And not hurt

I will seek to understand
And not judge or dismiss

I will grow
And not stagnate

I will be respectful
And not rude

I will be compassionate
And not cruel

I will have empathy
And not apathy

I will be mindful
And not heedless

I will be strong
And not weak

I will be courageous
And not cowardly

I will dare to dream
And not relinquish hope

I will be open-minded
And not closed shut

I wi...

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"The Prisoner"
Submitted By: Christine Bruness

May Submission /
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I Watched him
Shoot-up in the alley
Ah! How alike we are!
Both of us feeding
our addictions in filthy alleys
creeping down city streets
at midnight, looking for
the fix to get us through
the long, lonely night.
I felt his alienation—
Indeed, he was in pain.
He did not suffer
when I fed on him.
No, he did not suffer . . .
He was freed from
his crippling addiction
His soul has transformed!
But . . .
I am still here
a prisoner of my own passion
hiding in the dark corners
Waiting
for my next prey.



from the author's poetry book: Imbalance, An Experimental Collection of Micro Stories & Poetry, published in 19...

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Despair
Submitted By: Jana Hubbard

April Submission /
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Respond to any love that he gives -
any love is better than none.
So, why do I feel like my life is over
even before it has begun.

Another day, another tear -
I wonder how many that makes this year....
I just want to sleep, but, instead I
brush my hair -
It is the only way I know of
to deal with this despair....

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Tattooed
Submitted By: Brittany Wyche

April Submission /
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With my head on my arms,
and my feet dangling just off the chair,
the first was the sound of the whirring needle,
quieted by the shrieking heavy metal CD
that skipped in time with my frantic pulse.
And the hand on my calf
waiting
anxious
dreading
wanting.
And the needle piercing flesh,
the hand wiping away blood.
My nails competing for my skin.
Imagining all the different kinds of pain there must be,
and you
and the worst was the return of the needle
after the wound had time to breathe
and the music was off.
And the worst was the pain of helplessness
and I realized I still love you....

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Spite
Submitted By: Brittany Wyche

April Submission /
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She hops down from the backseat
sandals and shorts hitting summertime on concrete
the brilliance of ordinary
as she pouts up the brick steps
large wooden door
diamond glass window.
A five year-old with the authority of keys
defiantly fitting always the correct one in the lock
and turning right, then left,
muttering
"I hope she dies first."
Guilt blooming as the mark on her cheek.
Regret as she picks up the spilled groceries.
And fearful delight in her own power
to make the worst dreams come true....

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Happy Valentine's Day
Submitted By: Brittany Wyche

April Submission /
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Roses make you weak
Pink and shelled
Budding in cliches
anger blooming faster from
fecundity in confusion
I will water them with
vodka
tears
Cut stems next to shot glasses
sharing space in the sink
empty, empty
shelled words
flowering up
wretched retching
The next morning
roses are all that remain...

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Snowball Fight
Submitted By: Brittany Wyche

April Submission /
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This is jealousy again
heightened by the shot
confronted by the image
you and her
snow whipping in my eyes
not enough to hid
and you
and her
laughing
cold
colder with your arms around her
vodka tightening my stomach
snow tangling my hair...

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The Strawberry
Submitted By: Brittany Wyche

April Submission /
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In the circle between the shops
and my apartment,
la plaza del barrio,
there is a park -
just some trees
and a few benches
As I crossed the street
I saw it
Blood red
Crushed
Stained
Seeds and sweetness smattered

After staying out drinking till 5am
The panic of you set in
I thought I had forgotten
I laid on a bench alone
to stop the rising panic
I breathed in the sky
I counted the number of times
I saw your eyes
Flashing
Memorized
Stained
Immobile and intoxicated imagination...

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