Not Broken

Not Broken

Not Broken by John Roxbury

As long as I have life to use,
I'll not decry my every bruise,
I'll not keep track of every crack,
Or rave about my every scratch,
I'll not pretend each day is winter,
Bemoaning over every splinter.

For all the lives that have been spent,
Acquired a fair amount of dents,
And not a life I've seen thus far,
Had fewer than a hundred scars,
And I have yet to meet a soul,
Who had a heart that was still whole.

I may be chipped, or scuffed, or battered,
Weathered, or scored, or torn, or tattered,
But 'til from sleep I can't be woken,
I'll not accept that I am broken.

If I’ve a lung that is still breathing,
And half a heart that is still beating,
I bid my lips these words be spoken,
"'Til I am dead I'll not be broken".
<strong>John Roxbury</strong>
John Roxbury

I am from the suburbs of Portland, Oregon, where I live with my family and work in Information Technology. My hobbies are music, fitness, and travel.

Writing feels like the most important and serious thing I’ve ever done in my life. To call it a hobby seems terribly understated. I’ve spent most of my journey as a writer trying to quit, but I now accept it is inescapable. I do it as often and with as much excellence as I possibly can. Write mostly fantasy fiction but have taken a deep dive into poetry most recently.

Have nothing published, but that is the direction I am headed.

INSTAGRAM: @thejohnroxbury 

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Sarah Pletcher Poetry

Sarah Pletcher Poetry

Remember Me

Poetry by Sarah Pletcher

I was called home to gain my wings.
It was scary on Earth.
So full of darkness.
Thank you for being my light.
I'm no longer hurting.
I've been set free from all of the pain.
I put up the best fight I could.
And all along you stood right by.
I'm sorry for losing.
But it will be okay
Tears will fall
Eyes will dry
Hearts will break
Souls will heal
All in time
Truthfully, nothing will ever be the
same.
But please go on living life.
To the fullest extent.
Full of Laughter, Joy and Memories
It my not feel like it
But we've never been apart
I'm right there with you.
Forever in your heart.
Remember me
As you look in the night sky
You were once my shining star
Now, let me be yours.
The love I had for you
Still pouring out freely
As a ravishing waterfall
Remember me
In the field of flowers
The beauty of growth
I'm no longer hurting.
I've let go
It's your turn now.
So, please let go.
Let me forever rest inside your soul.
Remember me
I'll forever be alive.
Go on now, go live your life.

The Fog

Poetry by Sarah Pletcher

Help.
I'm drowning
The demons breathe
in my oxygen
and let out fog.
I can't breathe.
I can't see.
I'm trapped
Can anyone hear me?
Help Help
My worlds falling dark
I'm fading away into the fog
These demons may win.
Where is the sun?
I long for her comforting glow.
All color has fled
Black and white fills my eyes
Reach in and grab my hand
Tell me I'm not alone
Pull me back.
Out of the fog
Into the light.
Remind me
That I can
Fly.
I need you now
More than ever
So please don't let go.
Don't let me drown.
You can't leave me here
Not right now.
Believe in me.
So I can too
I'm just a little bent
Not entirely shattered.
With a little support
I can hold it all together.
I need to heal
But sometimes
We all need a little
Help
Can you be mine?
<strong>Sarah Pletcher</strong>
Sarah Pletcher

I am 21 years old and from Ohio. 
I started writing in middle school. Other than poetry, photography and playing clarinet are my other hobbies. 

I write mainly on my Instagram account @the.shades_sarah.writes. I am a stay at home mom to my two daughters who are 2 years old and 1-year-old.  I’m engaged to their father. It’s a hectic, happy life. 

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Our Love Was

Our Love Was

Our Love Was by Joanne Lee

Our love was

Car shows, summer beer fests, and 24/7 air-conditioning

wet Chelsea boots, crunchy leaves, ice coffee no matter the temperature

puffs of warm air from our mouths in the winter, a preheated car, Christmas and New Year’s Day with family and mutual friends

holding hands, walks to my front door, spicy food that you attempted to eat, and multiple trips to the bathroom

memories of high school, college, after-college, moves, and my first meeting with Potato

waiting, loneliness, and other priorities

misunderstandings, arguments, no one giving in, no one winning

muted tears, looking out opposite windows, long drives in silence

drunk anger, tightly closed mouths, and hearts impenetrable

regrets, limited efforts, and finally, a goodbye

<strong>Joanne Lee</strong>
Joanne Lee

My name is Joanne Lee.  I am a Korean-American, born and raised in Chicago, IL.  In the daytime, I am a regular nine-to-five employee working in accounting but come nighttime – I am whatever I want to be. 

I am the master chef of my kitchen, the top billboard artist of my bathroom, an amateur (very amateur) but enthusiastic potter and photographer, an aspiring writer, and proud mom of my precious puppy; Potato. I love all forms of art, but especially literature. 

My dream in life is to publish a book of short stories and poems but for the moment I take great joy in filling my journal with ideas, thoughts, poems, drawings, and other random tidbits. 

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