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Caroline Youngless Poem
Buzzing honeybee,
Beautiful flower
Pollinating others.
-Caroline Youngless
Copyright © Caroline Youngless | Year Posted 2012
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Caroline Youngless Poem
A lovely lady;
Growing inside, a new life.
A man in a tux.
Another bell rings now.
Final grades, balanced college offers,
Off to another adventure.
Damp ground, headstones.
Growing inside, a new life,
Done with their adventures.
-Caroline Youngless
Copyright © Caroline Youngless | Year Posted 2012
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Caroline Youngless Poem
My tusks are sharp, like a warrior's spear.
I see clearly and only feel one thing, fear.
Frozen deep in this field of flattened glass,
I had to watch my unfulfilled dreams pass.
I have always known the snow covered land
that now morphs and changes behind my own,
Innocent eyes. But a weight of a stone,
that can crush an entire army; then I remain alone.
I feel cold, my spirit sold,
lurking beyond me, rotten and old.
Out of reach, with so much to teach,
jerking to become free, begging for speech,
my young ones, my family shadows,
trapped behind a glacier of gallows,
The temporary apocalypse of merciless ice.
I wish I had warned them.
-Caroline Youngless
Copyright © Caroline Youngless | Year Posted 2012
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Caroline Youngless Poem
When his truck met
with nature so pure,
Did he know his time
was coming to an end?
Basic elements of life
taught each day
not to think twice.
Giving humans oxygen,
yet encouraging a raging fire,
just ordinary trees.
Did he know they would
cut his time short?
A cremation vault so sacred
destroys our lives.
It put him in a vase
rather than a box.
Does he know now
that he has come
to an end?
-Caroline Youngless
Copyright © Caroline Youngless | Year Posted 2012
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Caroline Youngless Poem
Many men with hard hats,
A wooden house presents itself,
Building blocks included.
Copyright © Caroline Youngless | Year Posted 2012
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Caroline Youngless Poem
You make my head swell,
And you're a sad excuse for a woman:
Cold-hearted, selfish, self-righteous witch.
Abortion is a matter of life or death,
yet you choose death for this small being.
You make my head swell.
You work with children every day,
yet you still want to kill the one inside of you.
Cold-hearted, selfish, self-righteous witch.
You give me unwanted goose bumps with those words
"I want an abortion," as you laugh it away.
You make my head swell,
And I have the urge to take the innocent life today, do you?
You disgust me, making me want to vomit.
Cold-hearted, selfish, self-righteous witch
Steal the life of this baby and party your life away,
disregarding the fact that it didn't have a choice in the matter.
You make my head swell
you cold-hearted, selfish, self-righteous witch.
-Caroline Youngless
Copyright © Caroline Youngless | Year Posted 2012
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Caroline Youngless Poem
Wavy blonde hair, sky blue eyes,
big swaying hips, and bright red lips,
she is a sex-idol all around.
Uplifted white dress,
slender torso and the way
her arms caress it,
she is a sex symbol all around.
The way her name slides off of
your tongue is pleasant
just to hear.
She is
seductive
passionate
delicate.
She is Marilyn Monroe.
-Caroline Youngless
Copyright © Caroline Youngless | Year Posted 2012
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Caroline Youngless Poem
-Inspired by Stephen King's 11/22/63
Unexpectedly, I see the newspaper
she's at least eighty now,
but still undeniably beautiful.
I will visit her;
maybe, somehow, she'll remember
how we danced.
I hoped that my love would remember me.
Heart to heart we have a connection,
our minds connected
Love never dies.
To travel back in time again to save her,
it would do no good, for
the past is stubborn.
So I stay where, in this time
the Land of Now
the Land of After
hoping she survived the cancer
without my interference.
So here we are dancing again;
She remembers but it's a faint memory,
like a dream; she recognizes me
and for a minute its all the same
how we danced.
The past is stubborn,
but right now
that's okay
because I have my love again.
-Caroline Youngless
Copyright © Caroline Youngless | Year Posted 2012
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Caroline Youngless Poem
I wipe the sweat from my brow
waiting
hoping
praying.
I made my submission four weeks passed,
it took even longer to write my piece,
3 months to be exact.
As I stare at the blank screen,
the paranoia sets in and I think to myself
The publishing company will know it was me,
they will know the acts created were of my own.
I did not mean to murder her, my wife.
It was her laziness that finally set me off.
I just asked her to iron my shirt,
she couldn't even do that right.
At first I thought that the iron had slipped,
it was then that I realized, as the moments passed,
that my hand was wrapped around the iron,
gripped tight.
From then on, after this sudden realization,
I figured it wasn't so bad after all,
at least I had something to write about for my next piece.
So now I sit, here, staring at the blank screen
as the paranoia sets in.
-Caroline Youngless
Copyright © Caroline Youngless | Year Posted 2012
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Caroline Youngless Poem
-For the broken sailor-
Alone:
ship's tattered,
sail's worn,
how I'm torn.
Stolen
was the sea from
the boat.
Immovable
is the boat
from this spot.
How hurt I remain.
Copyright © Caroline Youngless | Year Posted 2012
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