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The Unnamed poem by Matt	Random paraghraph of explaination by Darkmoon	Untitled by Darkmoon	Her by Brittany King
Betrayal by PhroZak	"cupids arrow missed" by adair	"kiss" by adair

Matt's Poem

From seething fire it emerges,
tested and tried,
to become what it was to have always been...

the most glorious of humanity's understandings...

love

Random paragraph of explaination

A poem exists for one person only: the poet. Without the poet, the poem would not exist; take any other person out of the picture, and it might. To force poetry is to rob freedom; to analyze it is to dissect it. Poetry isn't merely written, it is concieved. It is up to the poet to nurture it, to feed it, to raise it properly, so that it flows. An awkward poem is a poorly-raised poem; the author of too many such poems a poor parent. Poetry is a gift; always given in different ways; it is up to the poet to cooperate with it, rahter than to fight with it. No two poems are the same; some express thoughts, some feelings, some emotions. All poems are gateways to the soul of the poet; to share poetry is to share the deepest darkest secrets the poet has to offer; a sacrafice, yet a chance to begin anew.

-11/13/94
10:30ish pm

Copyright © Sierra Kempster 1994. All Rights Reserved.

Untitled

She would sit outside, but
the steps are wet
because of the rain.
Instead, she writes
by the glow of the porch light,
looking outside of her open sliding glass door.
She lies on her carpet inside
to write, occasionally
glancing outside at the
wet wooden steps, the dying vines.
An occsional drop is heard in the wind,
despite the fact that the rain has stopped
The cold November midnight air
seeps into her otherwise warm bedroom,
rebelling against society
as she writes
pencil scribbles on a page of a notebook.
She writes, and sees herself
looking out
and recording what she sees.

-11/25/94
1:27am

Copyright © Sierra Kempster 1994. All Rights Reserved.

Her

by brittany king
for alicia
i love you, dear.

Life's Phazes
my knees are grey
as grey as my world
just like my elbows
i'm not a beautiful girl

my toes are dirty
just like my hair
my skin is dry
i'm starting to care

my thighs are swollen
and i'm bloated
i need some aspirin
cuz they're sugar coated

my head is heavy
my eyes are red
but my tits hurt
i feel like i'm dead

but i'm not gonna die anytime soon
it is just a small phaze
with a very large wound

Betrayal

I dreamt an eternal fountian,
From which all life did drink.
Your thirst was more than ravenous,
My waters begin to sink.

I held aloft this loaf,
For all the brids of flight.
You took it all for granted.
They will suffer this plight.

You look to me for comfort,
You look as if I care.
Apathy long has devoured me,
And yet you still expect me to share.

cupid's arrow missed

kiss