Sydney's soul.

Butterfly, oh butterfly
Why were you so trusting?
So sweet and innocent,
You flew too close to the fire.
A fire in your garden,
Next to your favorite flowers.

As you floated closer,
Unaware of the
The flames reached for
Your wings,
And took your little soul.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For my dear friend Sydney, who died when she was only eight years old in a car crash caused by a drunk driver. They said she never felt a thing..... But I did. May she rest in peace.

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sitting on the sidelines

Sitting in the actors space

there is danger in here
danger to reveal
that which is real

what's going on
do I know how I feel?
am I watching myself?
can I show up

let us explore...
this moment
what's in front of me
can I see?

Ooh... there's a pinch
how do I feel?
afraid to reveal...

sitting on the sidelines

Author's Notes/Comments: 

my second poem written January 5, 2011.

View morningglory's Full Portfolio

Step back, that's a box cutter and you're in shorts...

I go along with my day as if nothing could go wrong

Too bad life had other plans for me today...

I steadily organize everything just as it's supposed to be,

By color, by department, by price point...

I get down to the last few that I can complete for the day...

I pull the box cutter from my back pocket of the shorts I'm not supposed to be wearing and I put it up against the flap that I want to cut off of the side of the box...

With one quick motion I think to myself, "Should I be back farther?  Should I be swiping it so fast knowing my leg is right here?"  These thoughts actually did run through my mind but I honestly didn't think a thing about it because I'm so used to using this object; I never thought I could actually, well, hurt myself with it.

The first try isn't successful, it didn't even cut through the box enough to rip the cardboard off the rest of the box...second try, I achieve my goal of getting through the stiff layer of, well, not cardboard, in this case it is...my flesh.

I drop the box cutter immediately and look frantically down at my right leg that's been lacerated. To me it looks like a shark bite, red and open. At this point all I could think of was, "Oh my God, did I really just cut myself?!"  I looked up after that split second and ran to the bathroom only a few feet away and grabbed a handful of paper towels out of the holder and pressed them to my gashed leg.  It never bled out onto the floor...not a drop.  

Author's Notes/Comments: 

True Story...

View hcogirl2010's Full Portfolio

Let's pray for Gary Coleman

Gary Coleman is in a coma after hitting his head in a fall.

He needs prayers by all.

Mister Coleman is a very cool guy.

We should pray that he doesn't die.

He did a very good job on Different Strokes.

He's hurt bad but we shouldn't give up hope.

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...MY pAsT...

i ThOuGhT i CoUlD kEeP MY hEaD uP sAyiNg FkK tHe pAsT bUt i WaSnT oN tAsK i SiT tHeiR aNd wOnDeR wHy diD YOU eVeR cRoSs MY liFe YOU bRoUgGHt M3 nOtHiNg bUt mUcH pAiN PrOmiCeD mE sO mUcH fAmE i AlWaYs cLaIMeD mY LoVe bUt i GuEsS iT jUsT WASNt eNoUgH nOw tHaNkS tO THAt dEvOtiN iT CroSSEd to MY eMoTiOnS nOw FrOm MY miStAkEs eVeRy TeAr iS jUsT MY fEaR bY ThE YeAr i HaVe sO MUCh tO dREAm tO BlEaM aNd ShiNe wITH a sLiMe i HoPe tHiS gAmE iS NOTHiNg to BlAmE bUt MY sHaMe iS TeLliNg YOU PaYbAkK iS ABiTcH!!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My pAST oF lOvE

View cookie18's Full Portfolio

On His Throne

He said off with their heads!

They won't live again or sleep in their beds.

He was so cruel and unkind,

there was a piece missing he couldn't find.

He lived in a sea of blood,

awaiting the coming storm, the flood.

They yelled at the gate,

the king paced knowing his fate.

With a crack and a yell,

the castle was stormed to hell.

The rain came in with hail,

a sharp pain hit as heavy as a whale.

The sea drained him and took him in,

He floated to the bottom with a grin.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A king is murdered by his townspeople.

View apri2529's Full Portfolio



Taken all the blame

even the shame

forsaken by all

just to watch me fall



died outside

watched her die inside

they killed me

i was revived

some say i did a little

more that survive

lost her

now i feel a little

less like alive

some have called me a demon

she called me her guardian angel

her oppinion was all that matters

she wasn't strong enough to overcome

i was and did

revenge was mine

punishment beyond normal

it made me immortal

View angelous's Full Portfolio


Speeding through the city streets

Hair blowing in the wind

Looking for  things upbeat

Where to stop and where to begin

Faster now the streets are bare

Sound echoing all around

The engine knows no bounds

The power roars within.

The lights are but a flickering

Not real to me anymore

I can only see the greens

As I hear my engine roar.

Guided by the cool streetlights

That buzz their cool light down

Exhaust blowing in my sight

Glass Extensions  near the ground.

Engine rocking to the tune

With the radio blaring in my ears

Finding black is the liquid dew

As my tires squeal from there.

I leave my mark from where I was

And tell the tale I was here

You will know with a lightning flash

As you pass me in your mirror.

By Rebecca Rudolph

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My son's friend got a speeding ticket late at night..So I wrote him this one..lol

View presiterrr's Full Portfolio

02-13 Uninvited


This little three-headed number

keeps comin round

keeps comin round

keeps comin round to my door again

won’t go

uninvited like a storm throwing knives at the

kids in the yard

kids in the yard

kids in the yard underneath summer trees

still free

waiting for the day to come that

keeps settin back

keeps settin back

keeps settin back all the clocks by the hour

time shifts

til we all just forget that the

words on the page

words on the page

words on the page really had things to say

all true

but nobody ever wants to hear that we

keep doin wrong

keep doin wrong

keep doin wrong all the things that we thought

we knew

we were doin cuz they don’t harm a soul and

don’t mean a thing

don’t mean a thing

don’t mean a thing like the dust that falls

real slow

as the buildings all tumble to the ground and it

keeps comin down

keeps comin down

keeps comin down in sheets till it lies

all still

in a blanket over top all the dead who

sleep til the day

sleep til the day

sleep til the day that the three-headed number

will count

like a whisper concealed in a shout as he

keeps comin round

keeps comin round

keeps comin round with a secret he won’t tell


but I’m closer to the answer every time

Author's Notes/Comments: 

it's been showin up a lot lately, that number. . . know what it is?

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