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I think poetry doesn't have to be taken in in the normal means like a literature book or spoken word; by nature poetry is fluid and malleable, meant to evolve. And it's based on sound and rhythm, so poetry can be a line in a book; poetry can be the verses of a song or a thought in our head. Lots of things, motions or ideas or images, can be poetic. They're just a different kind of poetry

Contributed by Alissa Pagano

A girl Look at that girl So free spirited So energetic You wouldn't believe all the shit she's been through You couldn't believe all the pain felt and the tears spilt because of people who have hurt her You can't see the scars when they're covered up She doesn't want to show them to some people because she's afraid to trust then with something so special to her. Not just the surgical scars but the emotional scars They're still there Oh god yes they're still there And they'll never go away, no matter how far back they're pushed into her mind. So please, just because she doesn't look hurt on the outside Doesn't mean there isn't pain on the inside Don't judge her until you truly know he -Langley Bradley

Contributed by Langley Christine Bradley

A wonderful spoken word poem by Shane Koyczan.

Contributed by Caitlyn Jean Travers

These are really brilliant; haikus found in New York Times articles! I don't know all the details, but to the best of my understanding, this is how it works: they have a program that runs through the articles, looks for sound and syllable patterns of haiku poems, and runs them off. The good ones are posted here.

Contributed by Claire Kathryn

Poetry is a very moving tool of literature. It can express deep meaning even when hidden behind such simple words. It is typically used to express deep emotion or meaning over a subject. It was widely used and developed during the multiple Renaissance's or age of knowledge around the world.

Contributed by Justin Bloomer

Very inspirational and moving poem acted out by Tanya Davis, writer, about How To Be Alone.

Contributed by Abigayle Hewett

A poem is a great way to relay emotional information, or information in general.

Contributed by Derek Lin

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which was my sin, though it were done before? Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run, And do run still, though still I do deplore? When thou hast done, thou hast not done, For I have more. Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won Others to sin, and made my sin their door? Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun A year or two, but wallow'd in, a score? When thou hast done, thou hast not done, For I have more. I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun My last thread, I shall perish on the shore; But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore; And, having done that, thou hast done; I fear no more. John Donne at 29 years old had secretly married Anne More (17 years old). Anne's father was an upper-class man and had John imprisoned for 3 days. Due to the marriage Donne lost his job and ruined his chances for the career at court that he wanted. In 1615 Donne entered the church and in 1617 Anne died at 33 years old after bearing him 12 children.

Contributed by Aileen Chang

It sifts from Leaden Sieves - It powders all the Wood. It fills with Alabaster Wool The Wrinkles of the Road - It makes an even Face Of Mountain, and of Plain - Unbroken Forehead from the East Unto the East again - It reaches to the Fence - It wraps it Rail by Rail Till it is lost in Fleeces - It deals Celestial Vail To Stump, and Stack - and Stem - A Summer’s empty Room - Acres of Joints, where Harvests were, Recordless, but for them - It Ruffles Wrists of Posts As Ankles of a Queen, Then stills it’s Artisans like Ghosts, Denying they have been. The "it" Dickinson so vividly describes is.... Snow.

Contributed by Aileen Chang

This girlchild was born as usual and presented dolls that did pee-pee and miniature GE stoves and irons and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy. Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said: You have a great big nose and fat legs. She was healthy, tested intelligent, possessed strong arms and back, abundant sexual drive and manual dexterity. She went to and fro apologizing. Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs. She was advised to play coy, exhorted to come on hearty, exercise, diet, smile and wheedle. Her good nature wore out like a fan belt. So she cut off her nose and her legs and offered them up. In the casket displayed on satin she lay with the undertaker's cosmetics painted on, a turned-up putty nose, dressed in a pink and white nightie. Doesn't she look pretty? everyone said. Consummation at last. To every woman a happy ending.

Contributed by Aileen Chang