When I hear this sound that awakens me, intimidating its way into my cloistered night, I write…


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“DRY LEAVES”

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It was an autumn day;

I walked on dry leaves-

Of gold, brown, red, orange-

To hear the sound of their breakage;

A sound that sounded like a symphony.

A sound that reminded me-

Of a heart- broken girl,

In years past,

Who walked on gold, brown, red, orange-

Dry leaves of autumn;

To be trampled by your feet-

On her heart…

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* Ellie *

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The images are from Bing.com


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“NIGHT”

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Night, a dark night, harmonious and shy;

Sings over old branches of trees with sigh.

I am thoughtful when night warns storm and rain.

And it is night in the world, when I am in pain.

And I am thoughtful again, what if rain pours everywhere!

If it throws the world like a boat in water so rare.

When it comes obscurity, the dark night-

I think again what will be for us the morning light?

If the morning’s life peak from mountain’s bed!

If the morning covers its face from storm’s dread…

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– Ellie –

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The beautiful images are the courtesy of Bing search…


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“DARK CLOUD BREATH”

Tears and laughter tire me;

And people who cry, laugh with glee;

And everything which may happen as surprise;

And farmers who plant or get up at sunrise!

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I am weary of hours, days, and abyss;

And all the scattered buds never see the bliss.

I am tired of ambition, power, and charm;

And everything else without alarm.

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When I exhale, my breath becomes a dark cloud.

It stands like stone wall, forgets the crowd.

Should one’s breath be what mine is,

I can’t find friend to give me ease…

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– Ellie –

The pictures are the courtesy of Bing search…


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“GARDENER”

Love like a hidden blossom stands;

Shelters in the cage of heart and commands;

A sensitive gardener to care;

Waters the roots, cleans the air-

Before the hurtful insects change-

The beautiful blooms to strange.

Make home inside the roots vicious ants;

never mind the tenderness of poor plants.

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Be my gardener, water my root.

Juicy and healthy I’ll be as a fruit.

Blossom opens, love flourishes.

No regret remains after all the wishes…

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– Ellie –

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The pictures are the courtesy of Bing search…


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“ASSAULT”

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The scary moment of assault simplifies.

A sensation of helplessness drastically horrifies.

Among pictures and walls, I think defense.

Behind closed door, I write suspense.

Story of horror shivers my face.

I become a prisoner in my own base.

Has anyone ever known-

The fear, the danger of being alone?

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I open my heart, my story I share.

In the back room, I tremble on my chair.

Wishing for air, even the cold winter breeze-

The warmth of the room makes me freeze.

The hidden blue of great sky remains-

Covered at all times, adds to my pains.

Everything ever since seems apart.

Can I ever be the same in my heart?

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This poem is inspired by a true event…

– Ellie –

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The pictures are the courtesy of Bing search…


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“WHY I WRITE…”

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Never evermore/ I can’t ignore-

That poems I write/  nature they invite.

To say that I am here/ or I was dear;

That I can endure/ because I am mature.

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My poems are/ my bridge to star.

I write so I can invite/ the endless night;

So I can speak/ to days and weak;

So I can make/ nights to wake;

So I can blame/ darkness with shame;

So I can erase/ lines from my face;

So I can desire/ a candle with fire;

So I can grow/ in my room a window;

So in my book/ I can look-

To happy crowd/ through my dark cloud…

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– Ellie –

Pictures are the courtesy of Bing.com…