Poetry

poetry

The Poetry of me and You.

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The Apple

the appleThe Apple

On the first day

He ran toward her mother

To the kitchen where she busied for dinner

Telling her his problems at school

But she didn’t listen

So he cried alone

So he looked for Ben, his father

So he waited

That’s the time his father never came back.

On the third day

He ran toward the cedar lane

To the big apple tree

Watching the fruit if it’s ready

But it’s not

So he went home

So he called Shirley, his friend

So he waited

That’s the time he promised to her.

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As the spider knits its web…

spider web

As the spider knits its web…

The spider moved its legs

Came down the green curtain

Paraded, crisped, paused, paraded

Perfect place to web a home

It heard shouts, rumbles

Noise was drawing near

A door opened in a roar

Swallowing the terror of the hidden crime

A girl, cries for help

Yet nothing but walls called hear

Following, men of three

Smiling – no- laughing Continue reading

Of what he fears beyond hate

hate

Of what he fears beyond hate

Maybe,

Just maybe.

That he doesn’t feel any hate.

He’s afraid.

Naming what he felt as love.

He lives in hate.

He had grown in hate.

He hated the mother who left him.

He hated the father who was gone.

He hated the world.

The world who did nothing.

Nothing but hate him.

Hate is what he only knows.

Yet, he felt fear.

He’s afraid of this unnamed emotion.

This absence of hate.

Telling that he never hated the girl before him.

He was afraid.

That it’s a feeling,

A love.

More tragic than what hate could offer.