Another-Poetry-Group

She was supposed to be right; love was supposed to win, and the world was supposed to be a loving, kind place. That's what she was told; that's what she told herself. That's what she believed. I write because I was wrong, but mostly because love and kindness isn't. I write because I still have hope, and hope does something. When I've been in so much pain, when I write this poem in pain, Hope looks me in the eyes and says "do something." Hope can't fix everything, but when hope inspires to do something... And I see I wasn't supposed to be right, I was just supposed to do something after I was wrong.

Saying goodbye to the girl I knew, to the girl I was. Sailing safe in her sweet dreams I truly hope she finds the world she believed possible for me and her. Staring at a beautiful sunset, I thought kindness went beyond the horizon, and love was as true as the sun will rise. I was small, I couldn't see the whole picture, I still can't, I still never will, but I can get a better view. So, for the small girl with sweet dreams, the mountains she couldn't move, I'll climb instead. I feel parts of my life I want to erase, but know I can't; parts of my story I may never tell, but accept; things I didn't have to learn the hard way that didn't make me stronger... and the light of the sun before it turns dark. But the sun will rise, I think that's the only truth I need. The rest is unknown, like what's beyond the horizon. If I could see that girl again and let her know I wouldn't be here without her, let her know I love her and hope she feels the same... But she's here, she's

The bile thick and sickly sweet Permeates my lips every time our eyes meet. There are lines, lies laced with hope threatening to escape with questionable intent. If I told you I love you, I'd need to repent.

A world of crimson exploded on the canvas of the sky, and here we are standing together in the fiery flush of this strawberry sunset, with you looking as beautiful in the light as the light looks on you. You're as radiant as the sun that radiates on you like you're the prettiest star. A woman sings poetry that feels like the morning after rain when she tells her daughter that without her the sun doesn't shine, I love you too. She's broken and bent, repairing and reborn as she reaches for the stars, as we should be. Life covered her in living, with belief under harsh skies, and doubt under clear ones, she wears it like she wears her shattered heart around her soul, so beaming with life, as if Life lives only for her. There's a neverending story that rewrites the heavens every day, that story is "I love you." I want to read her mine today and everyday, so she'll know the sun doesn't shine without her either.

Suffering in the rain, while dancing under the stars. I know light will break through; that light will cast a shadow, but shadows give shade on a hot summer day, so I'll stand in that light and let the shadows fall. Love in the light and love in the dark, knowing both will come and go. The little stars twinkling in the sky, reminding me how alone we are in this cold, vast ocean makes love harder in darkness and light, knowing forever isn't coming and now is all we have—now is everything we have, and in the presence of now, I don't feel so alone. Rain pours and stars shine, as Now wraps a scarf around my neck, and in the midst of suffering, we dance on together.

November 10th of '75, through the howling ice and wind A ship goes down on Lake Superior, Nevermore to rise again The Edmund Fitzgerald went down with all her 29-man crew It's a tragic story indeed, but here's something you never knew: On that night the Fitz went down on the cold and icy sea There unfolded on the water great acts of humanity Brave captains risked their ships and crews to find somebody alive The captains may be dead and gone, but the hero ships survive Many singers sing of the Fitz, Many singers tell the tale Of a big steel ore boat lost in a strong November gale But only the poets will sing of the hero ships who tried to find the Fitz, and now let us hear it from their sides Safe in harbor was I that night, but I was asked to turn about At first I refused, but then, finally, I headed out My sister joined me sometime later. Together, we searched till the dawn Only oil and debris was found when it all was said and done I still sail the lakes today, Arthur M.

It’s colder on the mornings when I’m honest with myself. When the breeze rolls in and I remember what I actually meant to you... and not what I wanted to mean to you. My name means a safe harbor. I was letting you dock your boat here every other week and sail off to sea. You picked me flowers as a form of payment and occasionally patched me up. Sometimes you came to me as a hurricane leaving chaos in your wake. Debris. Casualties. You told me I was beautiful. It always felt like another lie. You didn’t realize it was you that was making me weak. Planting thoughts like termites in my mind. A wedding. A baby. A life. Infesting my docks and eating away at my foundation. A terrible disease. I closed off the port. Poured sand in the bay. Yet, still, a million tiny grains meticulously placed can’t keep the memory of you away.