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 Jun 2014 Iris
Miranda Renea
Dancing
 Jun 2014 Iris
Miranda Renea
The sun danced with
Trees in the distance --
Like  stationary roots
That encircle the soil,
We spiral, locked in
The dance of death,
Like leaves in their
Loving descent.
 Jun 2014 Iris
Haruka
You were always so fascinated with silhouettes.
The way the ***** of the nose flowed into the lips,
flowed into the curve of the chin,
then the ******* and finally the heart.
You told me I looked beautiful that night
that you first kissed me.
I could swear I heard my heart soar but
maybe beneath that flutter,
I failed to notice the slight crack.
Because the moment you made your home
in my ribcage,
I lost segments of myself until the day you left,
I now notice, you actually left nothing at all.
Looking back, I see that it was actually my fault.
I was hasty in loving you so fully.
My mother told me to be wary of the drugs on the street,
the day I left home.
But she failed to mention that some drugs come
with a beating heart and hazel eyes.
I still feel you flowing in my blood stream.
Your scent, permanently embedded into my bones.
And I don't know what's sadder:
The fact that I'm still in love with you,
or the fact that you were never loved me to begin with.
You only loved the idea of me.
You only loved my skeleton.
And you were all I ever wanted.
But I was not brilliant enough.
Now I see that you only love silhouettes
because you're afraid of fully seeing someone,
out and vulnerable.
So, you settle for shadows.
I hate you for making me hate myself.
I was so in love with you,
I haven't felt alright since you left.
 Jun 2014 Iris
Helen
exposed
 Jun 2014 Iris
Helen
lips form words
the heart denies
pages dance
before my eyes
little people cry
little people sing
people sit by
so silently
as their thoughts
take wing
little birds sit
on broken branches
never trying to
take chances
as the boughs break
and they fall
little birds try to fly
only to lie still
beneath trees so tall
trees so tall
they seek the light
covering all
in the darkness of night
little people
little birds
and trees so tall
words could be weapons
dare we use them at all?
 Jun 2014 Iris
circus clown
imprint
 Jun 2014 Iris
circus clown
i bet even after all this time
that if my chest were to
ache with emptiness enough
like it used to i could go to your house
and find the outline of our bodies
on your dark blue bed sheets
i have spent the last year
both trying to run from you
and find you at the same time
but i left everything i knew
about falling in love
on that mattress and
it's still settling there
like dust and
all i can do is write about you
until it comes back to me,
or by some kind of miracle,
you decide to.
 Jun 2014 Iris
Bails B
I’m homesick for arms that don’t want to hold me.
 May 2014 Iris
J C Lynch
If all men want
is an ******,
they'd stay home.
DIY

*** isn't one-dimensional
neither are we.
The goal is
reassurance,

Reassurance we
aren't monsters
That we're interesting
and attractive

That rejection is only
happenstance
and that someone is
willing to be vulnerable

if only for the night
with us.
Someone only
needs us

and we need them.
Possessive and jealous?
To keep what is ours,
our purpose.

Our purpose is
simple.
To be wanted,
to be accepted.
Spoken word
 May 2014 Iris
Scatts
mum asks
why you show your poems to strangers
but not to me?


mum doesn't know
poetry is light
but it can also be darkness
sometimes it is mostly darkness
and poetry is history
and experiences
and things you want to happen
and things you don't want to see

poetry isn't always
chocolate-filled with a coat of sugar
it isn't always pretty metaphors
and nice descriptions of nice feelings

mum doesn't know
my poems can turn a little darker
twisted just like my mind

and she doesn't know
the way I love
or the way I hate
and she would surely ask
and she would surely know who and why and what
and strangers don't know
who the hell I am talking about
and they don't care
as long as they read a good piece

mum asks

I don't reply.
Well, mum hasn't asked... yet. Most of my friends actually did.
 May 2014 Iris
romane
Dying Everyday
 May 2014 Iris
romane
They say that there are a lot of ways to die;
Smoke a cigarette daily,
You will die ten years early.
Drink alcohol daily,
You will die thirty years early.
Love someone who doesn't love you back,
You will die daily.
The last option is the worst
Yet most effective
The pain is unbearable
You will not even have a choice
But to do the latter
To become numb if you suppose.
 May 2014 Iris
Tryst
"Come, thou clear-voiced Muse, Erato, begin thy song, voicing to the tune of thy lovely lyre the strain of the children of Samos." (Stesikhoros, C7th-6th B.C.)*

Upon a dim and distant telling,
Fared a maid of noble dwelling;
Rhadine was so beautiful,
Her suitors fought to claim her hand.

Unbeknownst, her father sold her
To a vile old tyrant soldier;
Rhadine sobbed, but dutiful
She boarded ship to foreign land.

Leontichus, her secret lover,
Swore an oath that he'd recover
Rhadine from the tyrant's grip;
He took the task of a deck-hand.

Many moons would find him weeping,
Ever watchful, never sleeping,
Till the day his mighty ship
Reached distant shore of foreign land.

Leontichus planned and conspired;
Cunning schemes would see him hired,
In the palace of the tyrant,
Where he could be close at hand.

There he watched, and there he waited,
As the nobles congregated
For the wedding, where defiant
Rhadine stood on foreign land.

Songs were sung and vows were spoken,
Then the tyrant brought a token,
Glinting in the bright sunlight
He offered it to Rhadine's hand.

Leontichus was gripped in sadness,
Taken by a sudden madness,
Running forth to save her plight,
He held Rhadine on foreign land.

Anger swept the tyrant's features,
Ridiculed by worthless creatures!
Taking sword, its sharp edge keen
He ran them through with his own hand.

As they lay there, deathly dying,
Midst the nobles, wailing, crying,
Leontichus held his Rhadine
And there they passed on foreign land.

The tyrant ordered their remains
Should scatter over hills and plains,
He placed them on a chariot,
And sent it with no guiding hand.

Late that night when all were sleeping,
Still the tyrant's eyes were weeping,
Knowing he could tarry not,
He ordered search of foreign land.

Days had passed when news arrived,
The chariot had still survived;
A soldier brought it to his door,
And placed the reigns into his hand.

The two were buried side by side,
Their hands were clasped, their arms entwined,
And there they rest forever more,
Two lovers lost on foreign land.

Leontichus and his Rhadine,
The greatest love the world has seen,
True lovers laying hand in hand,
Forever lost on foreign land.
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