harking back to an earlier poem of mine: poor wendy -- all the heroines get left behind. but she was a darling after all. yes, i very much have tears in my eyes. and it shall be hard to see, and sometimes i won't want to, but i will go on looking anyway. this collection shall be under the tutelage of sylvia plath's poems, and the bell jar and her lovely tortured head, in which i see something quite like mine. i hope it is enough in the end. do tell me if you've seen them. with love eleanor

'In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now, and above all, you lost the certainty that you would win. You were quite glad that the night-lights were on. You even liked Nana to say that this was just the mantelpiece over here, and that the Neverland was all make-believe.' -- J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan The image used in the cover artwork is originally from Lyn Hagan's project 'Porculpa - Zero Gravity Cat'.

Gone-- Windswept ashes blown away... To mingle with the dust of yesterday. Settling-- Pass the Crevices' terrain... Beyond the Realm of the Psyche... Buried-- To be forgotten for a time. With the company of dust, These ashes lie latent. Spurring their resurrection-- A hair-trigger of the faintest. Manifested Into The Present-- These, Chains Of Thoughts. © ECole789 02/18/2014 Revised 06/14/2014

poems

And there was me, trying to be nice.

in which a girl writes down her thoughts on tattered blue pages, with only a worn-out copy of the Quran, a long dress, two granola bars, three dollars and her Lord to guide her while surviving on the streets of New York City. ~ They say that somewhere along the road of this twisted life, you'll find yourself, That you'll become the good person you were always meant to be, But as I trudged down the isolated streets, I wondered how I was going to find myself, my тяυє self, When I was already so ｌｏｓｔ [All Rights Reserved @FallingFeather] {Cover by @Zammurad}

i love the challenge of form poetry, especially the invented poetry types. it excites me to see what my words do to a form and vice versa. i love my personal stamp on it, because there it is, no matter what, one's very own distinct voice. i have wanted these in a separate collection for a long time and here it is.

An anthology of love and lies; choice and change; fate and free will. Lives interlocking like clockwork and yet not at all like clockwork.

poems

A Potpourri