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Alisha Groves Poem
Ticker tape life into a single frame
Moon and stars silhouettes look down upon the sane
All the pristine porcelain faces lifted up to care
Intertwined fingers optimistically seeking out repair
Tolerance is not the toiling only of the brave
To find unified understanding is what the species craves
Eating of chrysanthemums call to darkness, be eclipsed
Bathe pure enlightenment producing innocence
Causing hearts to swell with love, beating live balloons
The “Perfect world” residing within Fabergé cocoons
Ticker tape life into a single frame
Darkness and misery secreted from disdain
All distorted tarnished faces sodden with despair
Lungs expanded beyond capacity, choking on the air
Hollow heads full of sorrow roll in like crimson waves
Crashing upon hopeless steely shores with desecrated pain
Soaring far from absent shadows into the great abyss
Bitter taste of hateful words linger on pursed lips
Lacerated tongue, swollen, bleeding from its wounds
Inhuman world residing within lanolin cocoons
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the original author. © Alisha Groves
Copyright © Alisha Groves | Year Posted 2014
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Alisha Groves Poem
She was grace in its purest form. Thinking not and caring not of her
destination, she soars across the angelic sky on her tiny golden wings. Yet her
feet never left the cold laminated floor. Any spectator would have mistaken her
for a seraph the way she glowed in soft hues of purple and gold but she lost
herself somewhere along the way, a faceless body seeking meaning in a
meaningless world. The sanctuary of her bedroom window shrinks behind her
silhouette, leaving her hanging in the nothingness that is her unsettled mind.
She looked down to see the world disappear below and felt the cold of the
darkness creeping up her spine and chilling her empty heart. Her dingy gown of
solitude flaps violently against her broken joints, lacerating her skin, exposing
a starry void nestled under the layers of flesh that kept her essence from
scattering across the cosmos.
Faces fade in and out of her journeys uncharted path. Running through her
unconsciousness as a river flows and churns through the darkest forest in the
deepest corners of unexplored worlds, never to be seen or heard by a living
soul until they scream out in hopelessness, craving a connection with humanity.
These undisguised faces frequently accompany her while she floats into her
own personal abyss. Their presence at incalculable altitudes cause her to
question how high her feathered appendages will carry her. She would welcome
a fall from grace, anything to let her know she is still alive.
She hears the voices as they whisper in her ears, telling her she is not alone on
her voyage into the unknown. Assuring her that soon she will be able to come
home to the place where she belongs. Declaring that upon the return of her
fleeting health, she can get back to the normalcy of her uneventful mundane
existence. The life she held so near and dear out of fear of failure more than
the shear love of just being. The crux that was venom on her lips and toxin in
her blood. But her heart has a memory telling her that home holds no promise
of security and love, at least not anymore.
She returns weary from her flight to find unwanted intrusions in her padded
prison. A soft cry escapes her lips as her wings dissolve and her chance to flee
has vanished. Reality sets in and she realizes she no longer resides in the
safety of her own mind. She tries to fight against her restrains, struggling for
the freedom she posses only in disembodiment. Familiar metal bites into her
ankles and wrists, purpling her scarred paper skin. Sharp pains spread from the
injection site, adding another piercing to the tracks that up and down her limbs.
She listens to the hum of the fluoresce lights as they double in her medicated
vision trying to escape from the corpse that once housed her soul. Her eyes
dim, a solitary tear slides down her hollowed cheek and she slips back into her
only refuge, her beautiful delusion.
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be
requested in writing to the original author. © Alisha Groves
Copyright © Alisha Groves | Year Posted 2014
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Alisha Groves Poem
As I hover over the darkened room, I wonder how I have gotten here. Did I die, was I
dead? That was the only explanation I could think of for my disembodiedment. But
concentration was lost as a little light exudes from the shiny bedside table. Little golden
ringlets push back fluffy bunny sheets and tiny painted toes shiver upon contact with the
bare floor. I watch as she looks frantically for “Teddy”, whispering his name with most
urgently. She finds him at last in the toy chest, tossed in so haplessly. She gives him a little
squeeze and kisses each shiny buttoned eye, then scolds him most harsh, for this was no
time for hide and seek, he has a job to do. When she has had too much to drink before
being tucked in to sleep, it is Teddy’s duty as man of the house to escort her to the
lavatory. I glided without a sound, watching from high above as the two made their way
down the dark hall, and said nothing in my waiting outside the bathroom door as the two
giggled, splashing soapy water on the floor. But I couldn’t remain silent as Teddy talked the
golden haired child into opening the front door after the midnight hour. I tried to warn her as
she poked her curls around the frame to look down the corridor. And as the elevator doors
across the hall opened revealing a shrouded man residing inside, my voice got stern and I
spoke with a smoky voice. She can’t hear you, echoed inside my head, but I could
not give up, they were in danger, this innocent kid and instigative bear. I screamed until my
invisible voice was hoarse as I watched the tiny figure cross the elevators thresh hold and
into the arms of death. Helpless I floated my front row seat to doom. And as the metal doors
slunk closed, beauty and bear disappeared under a black cloak and all was lost.
Curse you teddy, you are supposed to be her protector. How could you, she trusted you,
curse you.
I cried ghostly tears and wept without restraint. What was the purpose of witnessing such a
horrible event if I could not intervene? And as metaphoric tears streamed down my wraith
like face, I myself began to dissipate. I closed my eyes to shield them from my complete
disappearance. But I felt like I still existed in the world of the living. I opened my eyes to
confirm my suspicion and in one fleeting moment of bliss, I realized it had all been a dream,
a nightmare. My heart lightened, my steps quickened and I sang with joy as I readied myself
for the day. What happiness to know that it was all a manifestation of an unsupervised mind
and no child had met an untimely fate. No mourning mother, no depressed class mates, no
scares for a society of the meek and timid. No, all was well. I was a bit startle at the thud of
the morning newspaper hitting the cement of the porch, but I was so high on a life saved by
circumstance, I wasn’t going to let it give me a fright. I gingerly opened the door and bent
down to accept the printed gift from the city when I saw the headline on the front
paper. “Elevator Killer” Claims Another Victim.
My knees sank; my heart sank, never again would I close my eyes, never again would I
dream.
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
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Copyright © Alisha Groves | Year Posted 2014
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Alisha Groves Poem
I can't compare your love to a sweet red rose,
For roses whither and they die.
I can't compare your love to the deep blue sea,
For it rises and falls with the tide.
I can't compare your love to a white fluffy cloud,
For clouds have a silver lining and then they turn black as night.
I can't compare your love to a high flying kite,
For in a tree can get caught that kite.
I can't compare your love to the brightly shining sun,
For the sun rises in the east and sets in the west.
I can't compare your love to a knight in shining armor,
For his life has no meaning once he’s finished his quest.
I can't compare your love to an angel,
For angels sometimes fall from heaven to hell.
I can't compare your love to the rain of life,
For there would be no life if the rain never fell.
I can't compare your love to the pure white snow,
For when the warm spring comes it all melts away.
I can't compare your love to a beautiful butterfly,
For the lifespan of a butterfly is only for a single day.
I can't compare your love to a beautiful butterfly to see through the dark,
For once the wax is melted the light goes out.
I can't compare your love to the innocence of a new born baby,
For if it doesn’t gets its way it tends to pout.
I can't compare your love to a fish swimming free in the sea,
For if the fish are not careful they can end up on a hook.
I can't compare your love to the greatest literary work,
For when you get to the last page that’s the end of the book.
I can't compare your love to a secret tightly locked behind a door.
For the secret can be found to one, if one only had a key.
I can't compare your love to anything of value on the earth,
For our love extends beyond the heavens for all eternity.
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
Copyright © Alisha Groves | Year Posted 2009
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Alisha Groves Poem
Mirror mirror made of glass,
Reflex the details of the past.
Shatter not, less shards be lost,
And with them every single thought.
Blame not yourself, sweet little bird.
The accusations are absurd.
Fire and ice this day will rain,
And cleanse away the weak and sane.
Left are the strong, left is the pain,
Seal it away, forgotten again.
And so over and over the story plays,
Lost and found in so many ways.
Once upon a time, a mere flesh wound,
Was only the crack in the mirror’s swoon?
Attracted to the light that reflected there,
Caused the rift of time to tear.
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
Copyright © Alisha Groves | Year Posted 2014
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Alisha Groves Poem
Alisha
Writer, worrier, sleeper, cook
Daughter of D’Anna, Scott, Paul, Mitzie, Steve
Lover of anime, poetry, free will
Who feels isolated, alone, surpassed
Who fears failure, loss, wastefulness
Who would like to see unity, tolerance, Japan
Residence of my own little world
Groves
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the original author. © Alisha Groves
Copyright © Alisha Groves | Year Posted 2009
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Alisha Groves Poem
Butterfly in the sky,
why don't you fly very high?
I see you with a sorrowed eye,
listen to me, that's no lie.
Butterfly why your tears,
have you any troubling fears?
I can give you joys and cheers,
if you'll live with me your years.
Butterfly can you see?
You would be happy to live with me.
If you live with me you'll be,
the happiest butterfly in my tree.
Butterfly wipe away your tears,
come to me if my tear you hear,
because butterfly in the sky,
like you, I too am a butterfly.
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
Copyright © Alisha Groves | Year Posted 2009
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Alisha Groves Poem
Be not a constant reminder of such a withered existence,
State of mind being part of the fear, fear of a losing race.
Flying past the places that were lost before they were found,
Finding warmth from the blood, flowing without a sound.
Speak that I cannot hear, don’t escape me no matter what u want,
Yearning for eternity the only thing I have not got.
Deliver me a way to bring Balance back this way it comes,
Towards the place where the pinnacle was sliced,
Cut the cord to the one thing left beating in this body,
A corpse, delivered unto me, disgraced from all who looks upon thee.
Pooling from corner to corner, seeping through the cracks,
Creases made to conceal and make the weary forget time,
Pendulum that stops for no one, hold, feel, touch, caress,
Trace a pattern in the sand, so a way may be found,
Hide not from your hero, gasping for breath your only speech,
Tell me not, the task I ask, cannot be done,
Finish what you promised and save me, save the balance.
Bring the balance back to me, save us from our sanity.
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requested in writing to the original author. © Alisha Groves
Copyright © Alisha Groves | Year Posted 2015
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Alisha Groves Poem
Flowing behind the wall
Slink across the floor
Stumble down the stairs
Tripping out the door
Silhouettes surround
Leaning in securely
Gravitating around
Arms tightly encircling
Eyes sparkling brightly
Flaming with desire
Lips pursed tightly
Hearts beat as one
Blood drips silently
Crimson pools accumulate
Body slumped lifelessly
Just a moment too late
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
Copyright © Alisha Groves | Year Posted 2009
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Alisha Groves Poem
Dada or Dadaism is a cultural movement primarily involved visual arts, literature—poetry,
art manifestoes, art theory—theatre, and graphic design, and concentrated its anti-war
politics through a rejection of the prevailing standards in art through anti-art cultural works.
This is my attempt at Dada.
Zring Zang
pinggity prong pang
jumping across from train to train
Bring Brang
sissity sis sang
circling round, round the storm drain
dring drang
ribbity rib rang
Trains and drains, over my life reign
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
Copyright © Alisha Groves | Year Posted 2009
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