Post on 23-Mar-2016
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Eternally Connected
Compiled by Maggie Voss
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This is for my family, and friends. I should personally thank Calypso and Jessica
You guys helped me compile poems that are meant to be heard from mountaintops.
Love, Maggie
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War
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Glitter In The Sky
It was the loudest sound he'd ever heard, and just like that: he was transported back to a time that'd already occurred.
Sitting on a field, holding his fathers hand,
gazing at the sky, while out; played the band.
the sky was alight with glitter the sky was alight, so bright
and the boom of the fireworks left him in awe
as his father looked down, and smiled.
These were not fire works, though they were fires everywhere: ablaze.
The loudest sound he'd ever heard, sent his fellow soldiers flying.
He watched in terror as the shrapnel rained. The formation had been lost, and the bullets were flying,
and the air filled with the overwhelming sound; of mothers crying.
He radioed home, back to base,
and begged them to send reinforcements with haste, but it didn’t take long to realize,
that his efforts had been a waste. Over the radio,
only a scream was heard.
He'd never felt more alone, and more like a child.
Then he remembered looking up and seeing his fathers smile, and the glitter in the sky that left him in awe. Comforted him as death took him in its claws,
and the loudest sound he'd ever heard; became the last sound he'd ever heard. He just pretended he was back at the field with his father
just as he drifted away. Finally free, as a bird.
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BEACHES OF NORMANDY
We stormed the beaches of Normandy without knowing the gunshots were not symbolic of greater days, but the end of many lives.
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Reaping Willows
Ice skaters whispering to tormented flowers Talking about the last drops of water
And dreaming of yesterday’s procrastination Fingers tightly curled, resting on the blackened keys
Waiting for another day’s hunger to subside
While watching the withering fluorescent lights Beating down upon the fluffy golden skies covered with dust Realizing that this wasn’t tomorrow but a depressed today
Wishing wells divulged in the letters that were never received By the men with holes inside their heads lying down
With nothing else to breathe for
I prayed for all of them Not just one but all
Sirens rang for the golden flames My brother, I tell you no lie
No lie This day shall “live in infamy”
With the waters rushing over
Scooping, scrubbing all the red droplets of disparity Away we go Away it goes
When they find the fluorescent clouds
That beat down upon the night Dropping heavy bombs
Heart attacks The ice skaters torment themselves with flowers
Flowers for many men Many… many sad men
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Eager To Be Brave
The same little boy playing with marbles in the dirt with his friends Is now playing a drum on the field for his country
Leaving the safety of his mother’s arms to join the battlefield,
Marching in a war manifested from politics that were not his own, How is he to understand the reason for which he might not return home?
A child too young to bear arms,
But old enough to die for his country
None of this crosses his mind He is eager to be brave like his father and brothers
There is a sparkle of excitement in his eyes that fuels the pounding of the drum he has strapped to his body
Boldly marching forward, the beat of his drum pulsing through the entire regiment
The energy of this fearless child driving an entire army to battle
The first shots are fired Still he marches on
A stray bullet finds his chest,
With a gasp, he is thrown off his feet Crumpled on the ground,
With the ghost of excitement still left in his eyes, And his heartbeat fades with the last beats of his discarded drum,
Leaving nothing but the remnants of bullets for war that no one won.
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Lives We’ve Lived
Laying Silent in the pavement. I’m taken into a deep coma by the leaves that surround me. My wings broken by immense winds that have swept away my last breath. It’s been awhile since I’ve landed here and my bones are still intact. My feathers are still rustled by the occasional breeze requesting me to evacuate the premise. Time has not yet done its job. My wilting limbs have not transferred into the afterlife. So here I sit awkward and timid requesting a simplistic way out of this Earth. Cumulus clouds pass over me never ceasing to thank us for the lives we’ve
lived.
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LOVE
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Catfished
Dream: I’m 6’ 4” easy to get along with. I work for National Geographic taking pictures and traveling constantly. I am ready to find a girl to make the trip around the world with me. I want a woman that’s funny, caring, trustworthy, and just
willing to go with the flow of my schedule.
Reality: I’m 5’ 4” missing six teeth and haven’t showered in days. I’ve never traveled anywhere but to the nearest grocery store, and I don’t like to go out of Indiana. I know that I don’t sound appealing, but I have a really good personality. Personality
is key. Could we still be friends?
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Dear You,
We wrapped ourselves inside the velvet sheets waiting for the sun to rise.
Not uttering much, but grasped each other’s bodies.
Infatuation cooped us up inside the brick walls.
We wasted time with secrets looming in the shadows.
This is only a dream;
a dream for an older, more mature us.
The ticking of the clock slowed the pace of our time.
We rested with our hearts floating in the air.
Intertwining what limbs we could find in the pitch black;
we wrapped ourselves inside the velvet sheets waiting for the sun to rise.
I had waited many minutes
For you to understand that something about this was much more
We’re experiencing a situation that could take us into a different galaxy
A world where our stars could align perfect
And these series of moments could last an eternity
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Tidal Waves
We’re constantly aware of the tidal waves inside our souls. We’re constantly aware of the sadness ripping parts of ourselves into dust.
Trials and tribulations conjure up a bacterium, which isn’t released.
Time
ticks on, and our silence is center stage.
We ‘ve waited for someone to confide our innermost thoughts with.
There is this longing to be heard from the mountaintops.
We’ve all remembered moments where ceremonial weeping sessions have recovered you from years of heartache. With retrospective wavelengths from your heart pumping faster to circulate all the memories. This ensures that you’re still
moving. The circulatory system keeps the persistent longing for something down.
In the end we accumulate a sense of gratitude for seconds that could’ve been taken
away.
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The Magic Pill
In that moment it felt so clear. It was translucent to my eyes. Every beam, and
curve, was felt through the pupil of my eye. Refracting off the lens creating tides in the midst of my carnal nature. Humans gather bodies into the arms of the only man who mustered up the courage to reiterate words of affection into the beating drums of your inner walls. Folding time bombs into days and the likelihood of it all not lasting. It feels rather intimidating to believe moments spent with the heroine of your soul could embrace a multitude of sorrows for the tomorrows and todays.
Sorry is repeated so often that no one realizes they've said it by the time the creases of the lips have opened. Leaving minds to encapsulate the same "why" every waking moment. It's clear in time that the fault was neither yours nor theirs
but relativities. The stars alignment was shaken by a swift kick in the falling heartstrings. Resembling the lost intimacy now felt by someone else. "Why" is always an irrelevant question. It's the "what" we forget to ask when the tick has gone out of the passion. "What" is it that we must do to provide the adhesive to
mold our emotions into a capsule that never dissolves?
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Moderato
Moderato, the tempo of a love-‐struck couple on an afternoon walks through an empty park,
no rush.
The pleasure of a lover’s company the only goal.
No destination,
just a small journey to share together.
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Dallas Green’s “I’m Coming Home” Interpreted
The road home wasn’t simple— Strumming for crowds in different lands.
All of this makes me miss you: laugh, tears, and all. Lately I’ve realized the section of my heart, which misses you will soon be mended.
Tomorrow I get to be with you.
Well I’ve seen a palace in London I’ve seen a castle in Wales, but none of that matters.
I’d rather wake up beside you.
The farther apart we are the more I need you. Minutes and moments we’ve shared together explain themselves
I know that we’re taking chances.
Our love is a risk, , which I am willing to take.
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Love Isn’t Always Love
Love isn’t always love Sometimes it’s the misconception manifested by two naked bodies
Pressed against each other— Love is just keeping the loneliness at bay.
Love isn’t always love
Sometimes it’s just holding a stranger’s hair back So she doesn’t vomit on her $12 dye job
Love is just an act of humanity
Love isn’t always love Sometimes it’s just a first impression of absolute wonderment
Catalyzed by a charming smile and a sharp wit Love is just a childish crush
Sometimes love is just an illusion.
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Death
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Lives We’ve Lived
Lying silent in the pavement. I’m taken into a deep coma by the leaves that surround me. My wings broken by immense winds that have swept away my last breath. It’s been awhile since I’ve landed here and my bones are still intact. My feathers are still rustled by the occasional breeze requesting me to evacuate the premise. Time has not yet done its job. My wilting limbs have not transferred into the afterlife. So here I sit awkward and timid requesting a simplistic way out of this Earth. Cumulus clouds
pass over me never ceasing to thank us for the lives we’ve lived.
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Amongst the Mahogany
The golden handle rested just right; with the patience of young men waiting for the gun to fire for the race had begun. Life stood so gentle around the dead. Tears hit the floor with no warning as monsoons do in Asia. Waiting patient on the cold-‐hard bench I watched as the fluorescent lights reflected off the sweat that dripped from every man’s forehead. Silent whispers made me feel as if this was the telephone game, but everyone forgot to pass the secret along to me. My mind hadn’t grasped the fact that the whispers were in remembrance. Death had called my grandma, and she replied with 3 short breaths and went on her way. We’d all gathered as a family who only spoke when tragedy struck. At five sitting their felt like an eternity. I
believed that everyone had forgotten that we would see her soon enough. I didn’t dare mention this. My mom seemed too sad for me to say anything. So there I sat ignorant to the fact that the lifeless body would be taken into a graveyard, and the only time we could speak is when I spoke through the earth. Death was much
simpler back then.
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Meaningless
Every minute that passes should have meant the pain ebbing just as slowly
But these five years passing seem to have only fueled the sadness, Like a cancer infecting healthy cells
Here I sit, in a vain attempt to channel these negatives emotions into something
meaningful— A single candle lit on a clear, breezy night,
The sound of my peers’ debauchery filling the air Yet, here I sit,
These tears mean nothing This makeshift vigil means nothings
This sadness means nothing
It won’t bring the life back to your eyes.
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PEACE
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It’s All-‐Observable
Just a tiny “u” shaped slit based on the bottom of my tooth. This abnormal flaw on my molars made me revert back to a time where nothing about me stood out. I can’t recall any past lifetimes where my differences weren’t observable. This one gap
made me think about three major things:
War.
Love.
Death.
None of which I consider to have happened because of anything I’d done.
War: A method of regulating peace: Contradiction
Love: something you give/receive (sometimes).
Death: It happens when to all of us without permission.
All of these in particular haven’t made me happy.
War: I haven’t been to war: Only with myself.
Love: Only makes me sad.
Death: It’s a gradual process, and that scares me the most.
It’s all the same
Love.
War.
We fight for or against all of these, and often times gain nothing in return: heartache.
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The end is only the beginning.
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Maggie Voss is a Sophomore photojournalism and creative writing major at Ball State University. She plans on writing more poems in the future hoping
that something will get published. I appreciate everyone who takes the time to enjoy/read my poems.