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By: Michael

Why have you taken from me,
The one thing you could give?
You've taken from me my basic human right
My very right to live.

I cannot defend myself, nor can I make that choice,
I had no one else to depend on,
Your love and support was supposed to be my voice.

But instead you chose to deny me,
and tell yourself a lie,
I know you didn't mean to hurt me,
But because of you I had to die.

They told you it wouldn't hurt,
Not a thing would I feel,
You have no idea what happened,
The pain was very real.

Don't worry about me, I'll always love you mom,
No matter what you do,
And the really important thing is
God loves you, too!

For what you've done,
I'll forgive you on this day,
I can only hope that through my death
you can see the error of your ways.

I can go in peace now,
and finally leave you be,
But this I ask of you mom,
always remember me.

Biographical Comments: In the deepest, darkest corner of your soul, I am a small point of light, giving unseen breath to your hopes and dreams. I am the small part of yourself you keep hidden, the part that reaches out to those in need. I am everything, and I am nothing.


Shabbybear's Thoughts

By: LdyAngel

Like a child's toy worn and loved
But soon to be forgotten
In the age of adulthood
I wait for the next child
To name me...

Many places have I been
And many places shall I go
Some of them are wonderful
Some are sad like an old
Toy box in the basement...

But this is often the fate of
The comforter...I chose my
Path with understanding
And care...

For this world is filled with
Pain and sadness
For each tear that is dried
On my shabby coat
There is joy in the universe
And one less hole
In someone's soul...



Sad to Unmend

By: Dean Delrea

she loses the memory
and sells out her sensory
in the great justice
there is no doubt
knowledge grants

and she settled the mental score
and she's fills up the hole she bore
in the great tragedy
of a man
that broke his liberty

i wrote unfriendly things
truly cruel
on the day that you were born
i had a passion to experiement
but i was torn

i put it off
i put it off
i put it off again

it just too sad
it just too sad
just too sad to unmend

Biographical Comments: I'm a film student from Toronto, Canada. I'm just a lone cyber-websurfer trying to contact those that are having a rut in their relationships. I don't think I understand women all that much as i thought i did. Women please respond. Or guys who have the Answer to a woman's heart, in its mysterious entirety.



By: Allen Cleveland

I'm looking at a pool of water, Still, Deep, Quiet.
Your voice is the whisper of the wind.
Your touch is the dew forming on the grass.
Your exquisite beauty nears the Angels.

I breath deeply, your scent is intoxicating.
My fingers find downy soft skin.
Your manner is slow, calm, peaceful.
Your eyes reflect azure skies

Your delicate white curves turn my soul.
fronds of lilies so perfect in color and shape.
Two rolling mountains against blue skies.
reminds me of your perfect breasts.

I feel motion, realizing its my mind
Thinking of your body rocking with mine.
Powerful urges tug and dominate my thinking.
Passions will be satisfied, only temporarily.

Your lips are sustenance enough.
Till I can caress your body with mine.
Then I gain the strength I need,
To fulfill our burning Desires together.

Your sweetness distracts the flowers
I'm dazed to despair, lost in your presence.
Forever to share the existence of each other.
We soar over the moon, our cravings sated.

Early morning, cover smells, pillow soft
You wrap your arms around me as I turn
I rise to meet you with pleasant memories
Open my eyes, your not there.


The Path

By: James Hardy

I've walked like this many times before, with darkness all around,
The moonlight shining on my brow, the trees, and brush surround.

The boots that beat this path for me are old and worn out now,
Yet, with constant rhythm they repeat the cadence long known how.

I stop to rest, and turn to see, the steps I've left behind,
A line upon the ground is all that says here was my kind.

Ahead more darkness, more steps to go, the moon still lights my way,
I trudge once more into the night, my bootprints here to stay.

Biographical Comments: There's not much to tell of me, I am a private sort. I like to read the words of those whose passions are self taught.



By: Lauren

Homepage: All Things Poetic

its fresh white
with nothingness
poured out in streams
of regretful words
pushed them
through my veins
through my pen
out onto those
pristine sheets
each thought
between those
evenly spaced
with the resonance
of my empty
pretty pictures
stare from its cover
with children's eyes
the blackness
with bright colors
saccharine sweetly
gazing back
forced myself upon
those neatly bound
secret angers
from within
consuming their simple
in all things clean
each crisp page
with the stench
of dark crevices
of the heart
floating listlessly
from depression
to apathy
the weight of
one hundred
silent sins
of the soul
bravely they shouldered
not their own
pushed out
to form
coherent scribbles
that mar
these sheets
pages consumed
by blackness
testimony to
each moment
of self pity
becoming part
of my soul
casting them aside
with disgust
newly directed
on innocent
once their virgin
shocked my eyes
bore through
my flesh
my soul
to send their
message of hope
into the dark
now blackness
still stare at
pretty picture
regarding me
with death's eyes
painted across
its cover
serving as
a gateway
a mask of joy
to hide
leading to
the ugly innards
of my mind
from my gut
devour the purity
once found
in clean crisp paper

Biographical comments: Young writer with many aspirations.


Prince Charming

By: Cherie Crouch

From the moment you first touched me
I knew
I would forever from that time on
be in love with you
Your tender touch your soft caress
How could I ever again settle for anything less?
You were my knight in shining armour come to sweep me off my feet
My Prince Charming with a kiss come to rouse me from my sleep
I will always love you no matter where you are
If we can not be together I will love you from afar
I gave my heart to you, body, soul, and mind
To have and hold forever until the end of time

Biographical Comments: I have been writing poems and stories since I was ten years old. They began as a disguise for myfeelings and I kept them as secret as those feelings. I no longer need a disguise.


Young Love

By: Brandie

I think of you,
every now and then.
What could have happened,
and what might have been.
And I still remember,
every time and place.
They way we touched,
your sweet embrace.
But the years have come,
and now they're gone.
And still I wonder,
what went wrong.
For you went your way,
and I went mine.
And all but memories,
were left behind.
So I'm in my world,
and you in yours.
Bound together,
if only by shores.
But the love of youth,
the care and the thought.
Always flys free,
and can never be caught.
So if kept in your heart,
and not in the past.
Then all those good things,
surely can last.
You see, tomorrow is ours,
to grasp and to hold.
For the love of our youth,
can never grow old.
And so if we die,
without finishing our dance.
I know that in Heaven,
we'll have our second chance.
Forever....I will wait.

Biographical Comments: I love to write poems and have been doing it for years, but I have never submitted anything until now. Never been brave enough I guess. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know.


Mommy Didn't Mean To

By: Marian Bradley

Homepage: Night Writer - Poetess of the Night

The little girl hums a lullaby
as she rocks her Teddy bear.
"It'll be all right, she whispers
holding his broken arm
with her own.

"Mommy didn't mean to,
she was sick again yesterday."

The broken leg Teddy got last year
left him with only a limp,
the two cracked ribs he'd
gotten in the fall--hardly
hurt him anymore at all, and
the burned place on his back--
well, out of sight--out of mind,
except sometimes...

"It'll be all right,"
the little girl whispers
as she carefully sews
his arm back on.

"Mommy didn't mean to,
I was sick again yesterday."

© 1995 By Marian Bradley

Biographical Comments: I've always loved writing, but things really didn't come together until at age 37 I decided to go back to school.  There I met some wonderful people - Linda Tomlin and Liz Watson in writing instructors.  With their help, the stuff that was bouncing around in my head began making it way into coherent written thought.


Each Leaf

By: Lady Intricate

Homepage: Lady Intricate's Art, Poetry and Coffee Page

Each leaf that falls reminds me of you.
The masses of gold, scarlet, and muddy brown wafers
collect at my feet.
The now-darkened leaves appear to be grasping at my skirt as they tumble,
one by one, from their branch-homes.
Autumn's procession continues until all is trampled by passers
and soaked by the swords of rain from above.
Saltwater spills from my eyes and mixes with the heavens' tears
in an effort to cure the fallens' sorrow, but cannot.
All continues through the dim twilight
until I capture a particularly sad specimen in my hands.
Rust-colored and torn,
I touch it to my lips as an apology before I release it.
The rain stops and night comes without warmth
Moon casts her light on all of the fallen souls and slowly takes in the scene.
A scene that will happen again
next autumn.



By: Lady Intricate

How easy to mold the clay into
a figure
How perfect it feels
when contorted and shaped with my fingers.
Heart warms to the look of love and
longing in my creature's eyes
The intelligence and bravery of
His face beckons with silent
words of passion…

My Adonis.

I slowly tilt my lips to kiss…
But the contact is bland.
He is a creation of my own,
my greatest love.

The heart remains numb and
earth is still cold.

Biographical Comments: I'm a college student who loves to write and read. Hope you like the poem! I love poetry and just about all of the arts. I'm about to go away to college in Virginia and major in Psychology (minor in Eng. Lit.). I hope you like my poem and if so, drop by my homepage for more from me and some great links to other writers!



By: Charlene Villella

She sits in the darkened room
rocks back and forth
Her mind her only companion
Whispers words
Hands lift from where they
were folded in her lap

Nails search for the tender spot
Begins where she left off last night
slowly picking off
small pieces of herself

Tiny bits of skin fall
from under her nails
as she methodically works
her way up her right arm
then down her left

Small drops of blood
dot the hospital sheets
mingle with the flowered pattern
small red roses of her pain

Her hands reach for her face
Tomorrow she will be
a new person


By: Charlene Villella

In the hush of tangerine sky
lilac bushes shudder in gypsy wind

Petal fall in cascading heaps
pollen ungathered
yellow dust lies thick on red clay

Your boots scuff through
future generations
leaving harsh brown spots

Your words scour love
from our tomorrows
leaving only
footprints of pain

Biographical Comments: I worked for a while with a battered womens shelter here and have a number of poems that relive the horror of what others do to us then we do to ourselves. I have been writing for a number of years. I enjoy all forms of poetry, but am particularly fond of free verse and cinquains. Please send me comments or critiques.


More from Charlene!


By: Charlene Villella

You let me tag along
fed me crumbs of belonging
Made me believe we were friends
until He came along

Behind my back
you unsheathed your claws
moved in for the kill

You waltzed off
with your prey
began to devour him
while I lay bleeding

you smiled

Returned him to me
half eaten

Laughed as I
watched him die



Surburban Serengheti

By: Charlene Villella

Predators walk casually
among their prey

Their camoflauge blends
into the mundane
the ordinary

Fangs drip poison
hidden by smiles
Cobras spit venom
with deadly accuracy

Packs of wild dogs
prey on the awkward
the shy

Hyenas in mini skirts
whose laughter
crushes bone

Cheetahs chase loneliness
with terrifying speed
then kill
when through loving

Alligators pretend to be logs
flash teeth that tear
through hearts

Lions fight to claim their prey
who stands bleeding shock
while they roar their triumph to
all who will listen

Two legged predators
holster their guns in
tight blue jeans

Never really kill
but cripple and maim
then go into the Army
or on missions
to escape paternal duty

Here battles
are won or lost
The night is filled with
Cries of the doomed.


Charlene's thoughts on my theory that poets have a "common soul": There is a lot to your (idea that) poets have a common soul. It is what enables us to feel another's pain or their joy and to translate it into various words woven into a tapestry of life.



By: Charlene Villella

The house is quiet
tomb like
my mind registers outside noises
but doesn't correlate
them into meaning
fragments them
into individual pieces
that never make a whole
I miss your complaints
wandering from room to room
touching yesterdays
I randomly change channels
on the television
one sitcom melts into the other
canned laughter becomes harsh
I talk to your chair
You looked so small in the hospital bed
when did your beard go grey
how long have the lines
on your face been connecting
like a follow the dot picture
outlining the hardships of your life
where did youth go
In the dark
I listen for your key in the door
wake with my arms wrapped
around your pillow
search for the warmth
of your body in my bed
I begin to get ready
for visiting hours
tighten a smile onto my lips
stuff fear into a cold lump
in my chest
await the doctor's verdict
I must remember
to tell you more often
how much
I love you

Biographical Comments: Written when my husband was in the hospital and I realized that I do not tell him often enough how much I love him and just how afraid I was that I might lose him


The Storm

By: Charlene Villella

A north wind works its way
between collar and skin
sends chills chasing each other
down my back

The way harsh words send slivers
of ice deep into the warmth of love

Small things
an exhalation of wind
and words

Both change our
immediate world
send temperatures plummeting
creating blizzards in June

Biographical Comments: Love does not always run smooth, there are storms here and there and if we weather those we have it made


White Silk

By: Charlene Villella

I love my Grandma's hair
long white strands of silk
Braided then coiled around and
around on the top of her head
Undone it fell well below her knees
I used to unbraid then brush it
until small sparks flew and she
spoke the words I dreaded to hear

that's enough
go bath
Grandpa will tuck you in

I hated him to tuck me in
he'd do things
make me promise not to tell
'cause if I did it would
kill my Grandma

I always dreamt that I had told
I'd rush into the kitchen
every morning
to see if Grandma was dead
she never was
'cause I never told
until now


I Hear Her

By: Jesse

Homepage: Our Poetry

I heard her in a crowd
I heard her in a train
I heard her whisper sweetly
"I love you" in the rain

I heard her on the jumbo
I heard her on the beach
I heard her say the words I love,
"I love you" out of reach

I heard her from a voice mail
I heard her from a star
I heard her call my name and then
"I love you" from the heart

I heard her through a tunnel
I heard her through the phone
I heard her tongue and soft voice say
"I love you" in her tone

I heard her in my dreams
I heard her in my mind
I heard her with every breath i took say
"I love you" she's so kind

Then I heard her as I showered
And I heard her as she slept
And I heard her eyes just look and tell me
"I love you" as they wept

I still hear her when beside me
I still hear her when away
And still I hear her sweet voice whisper
"I love you" every day

Biographical Comments: I'm an aussie, I write poetry when I'm in the mood, and I'm Michelle's number one fan!!!


for myself

By: aysia-leigh kim

I look for direction
To see inspiration
Staring back at me
In the form of a face,
A song,
Or even a memory,
But all i see is myself in the mirror.
Violent tears evaporatng into my skin
Like angry blood pushing out of wounds.
Onto the white carpet.

I wish i could erase
My place in this room
By coloring with a black crayon
Over my insides and outsides.
To clouden any hope
of ever being normal.
I would rather resign
And take to bed
My ugly heart,
To smother it with articles
Of bio's that say
I have a disease.
and it is incurable
so i am nothing.

But it would be selfish of me
To surrender so quick
And looking at the blood on my fingers
And the grief in my mother's hands,
It slaps me into reality.

For myself,
I will get better.
I can't listen to profesionals who know,
Because they don't know...
What it's like to be a borderline.

And it'll get worse
before it gets better
but my eyes are open
And will remain on the peak of the mountain
So that when i cross it,
I will see exactly what i have beat.

Biographical Comments: This poem is about the difficulties of being classified under a certain category. Like being diseased and having everybody know you as a disease, not as who you really are. I am 17 years old. Each person sees me differently so a bio would be pointless.



By: rubytuesday

i listen to the water
i watch you skim over yourself and run at me with all the ferocious grace you can
i can hear you beat the space in front of me
like foam drums
and i wait with goosebumped anticipation
for electric sheets of darkness
rippled then broken by my human blockade of
skin bones flesh sighs
wait to be surrounded in the safety of blues and purples
and moonlight
wrap me in the cover of night
i want the carress of ten hundred centuries against my skin
that is silver on a clear midnight
feet thighs stomach chest
hair swirls
lips part and
body sinks into the wet salted


Now I Realize

By: Abiola Isiba from Teen Fun

My mom is gone
And everyone is telling me to stay calm
Because I couldn't believe she is dead
As I was thinking I kicked and scream all over the bed
I regret passing her up those mornings without saying hi
But now it's too late to say good bye

I loved the special things you did for me
Now I realize now I see
I took advantage I didn't care
And now I miss you and the pain is too strong to bear.

I have no reason to go on
I stayed up all night and now it's dawn
I wish we were still together
It would make my life a lot better
As I sit here crying
I feel my insides dying
But I know you will always be in my heart
And no one will ever tear us apart

I Want To Die

By: Abiola Isiba from Teen Fun

I wish I would die
Or get stabbed in the eye
Or better yet shot in the leg
Oh god I beg
I shouldn't be on this earth
My mom made a big mistake giving birth
She should of throw me in the trash can
Or in the ocean far away from land
But if I die I hope to die brave
And I bet no one will do I come to visit my grave
Because no one loves me or cares if I die
And do you want to know something else neither do I


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