The elephant, the huge old beast,
is slow to mate;
he finds a female, they show no haste
they wait
for the sympathy in their vast shy hearts
slowly, slowly to rouse
as they loiter along the river-beds
and drink and browse
and dash in panic through the brake
of forest with the herd,
and sleep in massive silence, and wake
together, without a word.
So slowly the great hot elephant hearts
grow full of desire,
and the great beasts mate in secret at last,
hiding their fire.
Oldest they are and the wisest of beasts
so they know at last
how to wait for the loneliest of feasts
for the full repast.
They do not snatch, they do not tear;
their massive blood
moves as the moon-tides, near, more near
till they touch in flood.
(by David Herbert Lawrence)
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She hides her face
when shes not alone
she wears a mask,
but its not her own
It’s everyone else
she wants to be
Be just like them
supposedly free
Free from the troubles
the troubles of life
free from sin
and worries and strife
But when night time falls
and she climbs into bed
her mask falls apart
and her heart fills with dread
She screams and she cries
but no one can here
she wants them to know
know all her fear
Her fear of facing
a world with no mask
afraid they wont like her
afraid they wont ask
So she waits for the day
with hope in her heart
when she’ll wear her own face
and make her new start
(by Melantha Abraham)
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I sit on the white cot, gently I slide my fingers across the gentle baby blue material of a blanket that drapes across my lap.
I look across the room and see a white toilet and sink, I see a steel chair and table. Atop the table I see flowers’ from my mother.
Red and yellow with lively green leaves. Slowly I push aside the blanket and rise letting my bare feet patter across the stone floor.
Standing next to the table I lean down and let myself breath in the sweet fumes of a red flower, thinking of my mother and her kind ways.
Then I remembered how she let them take me, to this awful place.
Anger surges through my veins. I pick up the vase and let it glide through the air to the stone wall.
The glass breaks and the memories take me back. I fall to the ground sobbing, the memories hurt.
I think back to my first day in this room. I remember looking at the guard, I remember his words, Welcome to your suicide room. I pick up a large piece of glass and easily slide the glass across my wrist, nothing happens its not deep enough.
Then I stop and think, is it worth it? I’ll never know. I press the glass deep into my wrist, the words Welcome to your suicide room echo in my head. Then darkness overcomes me
(by Amber C. Shields)
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