Tuesday, 21 June 2011

POETRY

POETRY

Clouds

by Regan Burrell

Clouds

Relaxing in damp

Dry cotton ball.

Blackish, dark,

towering,

cotton wool.

Banging

to make

Thunderstorm.

My red dashed tear drops

by Miya El-Dessouky


My red dashed tear drops,

Staining the wooden floor.

Questions from the past,

Come back before.

The memories that are pierced,

Are slashing in my head.

The answers come from the future,

And in the letter that I read.

So my mind is still unanswered,

My patience gone before,

My sanity that I'm holding,

Is falling on the floor.

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