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Jodella
Born, raised and live in Indiana. (Nap-Town or the Hoosier State) our nick names. We are known for The Indy 500.
5 Posts • 43 Followers • 160 Following
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Cover image for post Untitled, by StephanieMarie
Profile avatar image for StephanieMarie
StephanieMarie in Poetry & Free Verse

West Virginia roots

Grow deep within my heart

And her ever winding rivers

Have formed me into art

The mountains held me high

When I felt that I would fall

And her gentle valleys cradled me

When I feared I'd lost it all

The long country roads I walked

Led me to my home

Her land greeted me with open arms

And welcomed me as its own

West Virginia blood

Flows freely through my veins

I am wild and I'm wonderful

And I will never be tamed

Challenge
Imagine you have the opportunity to meet a famous person (living or dead) who you truly admire(d). How would this meeting go? Would you invite him/her over for dinner? Take a walk? Catch a movie? Poetry or prose welcome. Please tag me!!
Cover image for post Mother, by Vyxyn
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Vyxyn in Stream of Consciousness

Mother

Through trials and tribulations she fought tough.

Living conditions and people situations always rough.

Through it all she was a bright and shining light,

A beacon for the poor and downtrodden in their plight.

Though many Christians turned their backs on her,

She never wavered never stirred, for she was called

To do this work.

This work of love unconditional so pure,

This love abounds this faith Iʼm sure.

To meet her would be my dream come true

For I strive to be more like her too.

Mother Teresa

D.Boyle

Cover image for post Love, by poetgreen
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poetgreen in Poetry & Free Verse

Love

Flowers that break my skin

Moon-chased walks that lengthen our distance

Warm dishes that ice my heart

Phone calls that put glassed cries of crows on air 

Challenge
15 words that describes why you love Halloween
Profile avatar image for JessicaJohnson
JessicaJohnson in Micropoetry

All Hallows’ Eve

Ghoulish displays.

Pagan ways.

Societal exceptance

Of a darker beat.

Candy treats!

My heart's complete.

Profile avatar image for BMuise
BMuise

wishing well

the ripples

of a misspent coin

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RLW

An Autumn Blessing

I walked beneath the trees today

   Through Autumn's blaze so bright and gay

      God's beauty took my breath away...

The dappled sun through golden hue

      It would have taken your breath too

Challenge
Ghosts, write about it. About the ghost that you're running or hiding from, it can be about a ghost of the past. Not literally ghost
Cover image for post Homeless Ghosts, by sandflea68
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sandflea68 in Poetry & Free Verse

Homeless Ghosts

I spit out burned yesterdays,

homeless ghosts of my solitude,

hovering above in damnation of doubt.

Grey rotations of pain wait silently,

your white raiment colored

with my virgin spilled blood,

a soulless, endless creation

floating just out of reach

in the light of waylaid darkness,

hanging by swaying daisy chains

jumping off at the next flower.

Thick soup memory hides your fog

as tilted haloes resurrect

deception crawling on all fours,

sliding into macabre waltz.

I imagine the tiptoe patter

of your naked feet leaving,

my core frozen by cold absence

ghostly remnants of your misty eyes

cauterize my soul, leaving it barren

while I kiss your translucent smile

               GOODBYE.

Cover image for post Winter Child, by poetgreen
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poetgreen in Poetry & Free Verse

Winter Child

Frost creeps around the window

Injecting frozen yogurt on its edges

Pushing open

He jumps in

instantly staining the floor white

Poking around the dreaming cupboard

He bites a slice of bread

an apple

and the fingers of a fork

Jogging on the restless table

He manages to send the vase of flowers

flying to the sink

Kissing the lamp goodnight

He flings himself away

Challenge
Use "Just another face" somewhere in your poem or story, OR use it as the main idea for the plot of it. I can't wait to see what y'all come up with!! Good Luck and have fun!!
Profile avatar image for Helenalyn
Helenalyn

Just Another Face

An accident. That’s what I tell people when they ask. Boiling water or sometimes oil. I tripped, that’s all. An unfortunate spill with catastrophic results.

I wasn’t beautiful. My nose was too long, my face narrow, my cheekbones plagued by freckles. And my eyes were farther apart than they should be. The cumulative effect was a bit feline actually. But I wore my thick, auburn hair long, curled at the ends. And I knew about makeup, so boys looked my way. One boy in particular.

He had this desperation about him. When he presented in class, his balled hand would drip sweat. His hair fell in long greasy strings. When teased, his mouth twitched into a teeth-baring sneer, but he never fought back. He took the punishment, laid flat against the lockers, curled into a ball on the floor, all with that same sick look stamped on his face. I watched the whole thing go down once. It was eerie how silent he was while the kids pounded on him, kicking him in the neck, the chest. I didn’t step in though. How could I?

Just before the bell rang every day, he squirmed in his seat, slipping and sliding on the plastic like an eel, bolting so quickly that his desk rocked back when he left it. But his eyes were the thing. His eyes would sometimes spin as if possessed, as if trying to latch onto something to keep him in place. Spin and then refocus, always on me. Always on my face.

I knew he wanted to ask me. I could feel it coming in hot waves off of him. His shadow stood over me, wanting. He blocked the sunlight and stuttered the question, but I just couldn’t. Not even to be nice. When I said no, he pulled out a vial. He yanked my hair back and brought me to my feet with one hand and then ripped out the plug with the other.

The fire that fell from the tube ate away my flesh to the bone, pooled in my eye sockets, spread into my hair. I can still feel it burning even now. When I fell, screaming, at his feet, he dug into the raw flesh, ripping and pulling and muttering to himself. I felt my nose slip past my cheek. Felt my left ear slide to the tile floor. As I screamed, it ran into my mouth and down into my throat.

When a teacher lifted him off, he shouted “Now, you are something special. Not just another face.” And he laughed. Laughed at me as I lay quaking in blood and melting tissue.

Blind now, I’m not allowed to buy a gun. Knives however... I’ve taken my time, working my fingertips over the blades, feeling the weight in my hands. He gets out in 19 days and I will be waiting. Waiting to carve off that sneer. He will learn what it means to be not just another face.

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tomxweaver in Poetry & Free Verse

Permeate

I've let melancholy permeate my epidermis, it resonates with every word. I'm stirred awake at night because my mind is now a pendulum that oscillates between lucid dreams of past mistakes, and every time I've felt berated by self-depreciation.