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Poetry

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Poetry is a realm that one must seek.

Contributed by Charlene Romero

Losing Dime The venue reeked of excitement as they took position A tune that took the shape of a moon, like an ongoing vibe that hypnotizes the soul. Guitars began to weep, testing the riffs that would forever echo As the band begins to play a stranger wanders the stage, yelling words of paranoia A freight train with no wheels. Agitated with revenge the stranger reaches for his Beretta firing at will. The music stops, hearing only the screams taking its place Third shot fired, Dime falls to the ground Waves of shock swallow the crowd Draining everyone in its path as lives slowly slip away. Breaking news invades the screens A salty substance filled my pores, the world has lost a legend. Eight years ago a metal legend gets his last five minutes of fame, a tragedy that won’t be forgotten.

Contributed by Katrina Bossiquit Wisniewski

Betrayed Intelligently misplaced, a crippled fairy tale told by yours truly. It began the first of July, he glanced towards me and said, “It’s over.” Taken by surprise, I asked him, “Why?” Turning away, he uttered nothing. Excuses were expected, but not one was recited. “I found someone else,” he voiced to me, “You no longer satisfy me.” Confused by his response, I knew there was more. His motive reeked like a bathroom stall on a summers day, I plugged my nose and walked away.

Contributed by Katrina Bossiquit Wisniewski

In the short years that I have been alive, I've noticed the beauty of language makes it easy for us to neglect the truth in poetry. At times, I feel that we forget to look at poetry as a mode of comfort, and not just pretty words on a page.

Contributed by Roshad Meeks

wonderfully written

Contributed by Eunice Lee

Love this...

Contributed by Eunice Lee

I love the way she moves I love the way she talks I love her skin I love her hair but as long as I live ill never understand the fact she loves me it scares me

Contributed by Clay Dorough

she

I look into her blue eyes as I do I realize Ive hurt her, ive messed up I don't know how or why it makes me cry I hurt her and just for a moment I hate all that is me

Contributed by Clay Dorough

poetry is original poetry is written art poetry is feeling on paper

Contributed by Clay Dorough

Poetry Is About The Possiblilty Of Language, Without It Words A Exhausted

Contributed by Mavis N Ononuju