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Daily Archives: May 19, 2014

A non rhyming rhyme – Promote Yourself

poem

I could never

write a poem

that does not rhyme

until now.

It’s just words on

a page.

Just expressing how

I feel.

If only I could be

so intricate and real.

Wishing, I was with you

Wishing you were here.

I’ve never known 

what it was

this thing, this word,

called love.

I’ve never wanted

to admit

it’s something I 

can’t have.

It’s not that I’m

too ugly,

it’s not that I’m

too dumb,

It’s not that my

personality lacks

it’s just…

that I’m too numb.

I think that I am feeling

I think I’ve got it now

but every time

my hopes are risen

I let them down 

some how.

It’s just like this poem

I wished that I could write

without a rhyming

line in here,

yet I managed it 

somehow.

-Molly Golightly

The Life of the Observer – Promote Yourself

look
 
In a different place, somebody is in pain;
While others are asleep, a mother just missed the train;
As people talk while they walk on the street;
The poor are feeling sad, for they have nothing to eat;
And-
he sees these things but he does not speak.
 
A plane is set to leave in a minute or two,
From the blue sky awaits a magnificent view;
Prayers are said by enemies and friends,
For a non-believer whose life is about to end;
And-
he knows what happens but he does not speak.
 
Great artists say they do all things from their souls;
A young man believes that he could reach his own goals;
Words are being thought, written, done, and said;
But they are also being insincere and considered dead;
And-
he hears all of the sounds but he does not speak.
 
Teenagers cry because of love and break-ups;
Little children wish they could make the time stop;
When a lot of people just come and go,
We sometimes think that our lives are in woe;
And-
he tastes all the bitterness too but he just chooses not to speak.

By: Shevaun Lemieux

‘woman, 23…’ – Promote Yourself

pray
sometimes she thinks he likes to see her cry
likes to make her wait
likes to make her follow
the vastly switching road
 
sometimes she thinks he likes to be away
so she prays more
blackened knees sore from kneeling
for the one who won’t kneel back
 
sometimes she thinks he likes to put between them
a past, a cause, a girl-child
so she knows there are things
more important, more ‘of use’
 
sometimes she thinks he means this ‘Izzy’
this ‘I adore you’, this ‘marry me’
today he’s changed. This time he means it
but he never does
does he?

 The first poem in an ongoing anthology titled ‘woman, 23…’ outlining a rather intense year in my life. .
Mikhaela Kӧhlo
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