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Erin B Poetry - Short and Not so Sweet

The poems that I published here were originally written between 1993-1995 when I started my poetry book age 14-17

Feel what you feel

Trapped without a way out.

See what you see

Pain is wrapping your heart.

Can't get enough of this pain

I can't live for more than you do.

Want to die when you do.


A Love Song

If you think that I'll be all right,

That I won't cry, and I won't fight.

You've got it all wrong.

This is your love song.

I didn't know how much I loved you,

But now I do, and I miss you too.

It's too late

You have gone away.

I don't understand why you left me

It's hard to think; it's hard to breathe.

It doesn't make sense,

Oh how my heart rents.

Frightened of Fire

Fire, Fire

Burning bright;

Going throught the forest,

Black full of fright.

Smoke fills the dark blue sky,

And flames are ready to bite.

Disease will climb all through the trees.

Everything will be as black as night.

Fire can still be Beautiful


spitting fire,

roaring flames,

ghostly backdraft

Is calling claims.

Where is your dad?

It isn't the same.

Where's your mom

When you came?

Somewhere in the

Roaring flames,

or ghostly backdraft

That is calling claims.

Living With the Trees

Walking through the old and battered woods again,

Up to where I had always been.

I'm crawling and climbing, scraping my knee,

I'm falling on the ground so that I'm able to see

The life around me, everywhere.

Plants, trees, and animals are always there.

Even though I grow older each day,

I still think about coming here to play.


Burning Bloody

Burning through like acid;

The acid kiss of death.

Pouring down like rain;

Rain that is red.

The acid rain trickles down

On soft, shaky skin.

The skin is cold like ice.

Red icicles hang on white arms

In bloody red wine.

More of Erinb's Poetry

  • The Smell of Spring- Poem and artwork
    Read my poetry to discover what I love about spring, check out the videos and artwork of flowers also
  • Mixed Moods and other poetry
    the fallen may rise again: Her bright eyes shine and elven voice sings.My fingertips drum as his chopping thrums. Making Music: My head spins with The colorful chaos. My fingers jump and wrists twist
  • My Best Dramatic Poetry
    Noises Bloodsucking mesh of a messed up mind is seeking for a good remark the shriek of demons She shrieks sharply through the iron gatethat is closed against my pervading spirit.Poems by ErinB

© 2011 Erin Buttermore

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