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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I am lost. Somehow I forgot to bring a map with me when I set out on a path of good intentions and, instead, found a clearing of self-sabotage. The sun peaks through a canopy of high hopes into a field of misplaced affection and desires left unspoken. Beneath the low-lying shrubs, I’ve fou...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    How long has it been since you’ve looked on me with a smile, Basil, rather than a scowl? This bleak demeanor you’ve adopted does not suit you, and washes the grace from your skills. How can you expect your paintings to flourish if the thoughts behind your art are brooding, dark? Don’t c...
  • Poetry > Sonnet
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    A falling star is nothing like the sun, the way it flashes by and disappears. it glimmers for a moment, turns to run, but greets me first, like you would, were you here. I’ve waited through some storms of rain and hail. I’ve watched the ocean rage against the shore. I’ve noticed tree lim...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    May I borrow a blanket? It’s turned so cold outside that the falling snow has stopped falling, and now it’s hurtling toward Earth at an alarming rate, pelting the ground like tiny bullets from an imaginary gun. The snow is ice now. I’m afraid to step outside because I think I might shatt...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    As we sit in your car, I want so badly to lean across the seat and whisper to you that you are the sun, but I am so sick of hearing you referred to as “the sun”, even if it’s only in my mind, that I immediately sift through my brain for a new metaphor to use on you. “You are an elephan...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I wonder if I am a poet because I wanted to be or simply because I can. Is it something chosen or something that has been thrust upon me? Is it because I wonder things like how I became a poet or because there was nothing else for me to be. I wonder if it’s because I have a thing for words,...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A poem should curl around fingers like a strand of coarse red hair. It should whisper moon phases into open ears. It should not have readers but lovers and finders. A poem should be brittle but resilient. A poem should be yellow like the sky. It should drive away demons while reining th...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I stare in a sort of awed horror at the TV and watch a team of experts in haz-mat suits enter the home of an elderly woman named Martha who wears her hair in pigtails and owns too many cats. It's like a scene in a slasher movie, the one where the hero faces off with the ax murderer. You w...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I loved that Fisher-Price dollhouse, the one that sat in the corner of my room under the window, so the weather of the real world reflected the toy house. I loved the tiny people in their tiny clothes, not fickle like Barbie and her unending wardrobe. These dolls stuck with one outfit their ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Sometimes I wonder why jewelers make necklaces shaped like hearts. They're inaccurate, to begin with, they get the shape wrong, every time. I've never gotten an x-ray of my heart, but trust me, I've seen enough doctor shows on television to know what a heart looks like. Kay Jewelers, I'm ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Poems are afraid of the light. They’re not like children, who face the dark with extra lights and toy friends to keep them safe. No, poems thrive in the dark. They crave the absence of light. They shy away from the sun. Poems breathe the best at night when I’m at the edge of consciousne...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    I could have spent forever in that night. We were close, for the first time in such a long time. Your eyes had me drawn to you, magnetic, And your arms were warm, wrapping around me We were closer than we’ve been in such a long time, Especially when the music played my favorite song. Your ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A gray bullet piercing through the smoky sky, the train pulls into the station. My feet cross the gap and I take my seat on the clammy brown vinyl. There’s a space, a gap, where you should be. Next to me, the seat is empty. My feelings mean less to you than the crumpled newspaper beneat...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    Throughout my whole childhood, I felt as though I was overshadowing my brother Chris. It was never a conscious thing; I never tried to be better than him. Looking back, however, I notice how much I overpowered him. He was three and a half years my senior, but I was the outgoing one, the sibling to t...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The growling yawn of the soft-serve machine coming to life startled me. I had been leaning against the cool sticky counter top to gaze out the service window, looking past the dead flies clinging to the screen across the street to the nameless auto shop. A tall eighteen-year-old was peering under th...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I am from picture books and teddy bears, From fairy tales and warm good-nights. I am from glow-in-the-dark stickers on my ceiling and Mickey and Minnie Mouse on my pillowcases. I am from bedtime stories read by Mommy and Daddy, Great-Grandpa's rocking chair and thousands of hugs. I am from...
  • Poetry > Sonnet
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    We sit in class and listen to her speak, A new assignment handed to us now. "A sonnet, students, due in just a week." We just can't help but sit and wonder, "How?" We learn about the structure of the poem, Then we must write a stanza for the night. I think about this...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    A scratching of lead pencils and a shuffling of feet I hear these sounds and I shift anxiously in my seat I gather up my backpack, pencils, books, and other things I bolt out of my chair the moment the loud school bell rings Pushing, shoving, anything to get me through the door I feel a foot ...

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