Bethany Maxwell

Rookie - 0 Points (2/18/94 / some where in this universe muhahaha)

Bethany Maxwell Poems

1. The Flower Of Death 1/17/2008
2. Truth 1/19/2008
3. The Memory Of Suicide 1/31/2008
4. Why? (Death Part: 1) 2/1/2008
5. Who? (Death Part: 2) 2/1/2008
6. The Symphony Of Life 2/5/2008
7. First Time 2/5/2008
8. Soul Of Flames 2/20/2008
9. Element Of Life 2/27/2008
10. The Key To The Mind 1/28/2008
11. The Ghost And Her Horse 1/29/2008
12. Among Death 3/7/2008
13. Loosing Everything 3/7/2008
14. The Burn Of Acid 3/18/2008
15. The Funeral 3/18/2008
16. Sweetness 3/18/2008
17. Past, Preasnt, Future 3/19/2008
18. As They Dance 3/19/2008
19. Pole Dancer 3/19/2008
20. The Scilence Of Snow 3/20/2008
21. Thinking Of You 3/25/2008
22. My Love For My Father 3/27/2008
23. Roses 4/3/2008
24. Would You 4/7/2008
25. Roses Are Red 4/7/2008
26. In An Alley Somewhere Tonight 4/7/2008
27. Tears From A Star 4/7/2008
28. Sing Of Immortality 5/1/2008
29. A Riddle For You 5/4/2008
30. Death 5/4/2008
31. Elk 5/4/2008
32. Forest Of Souls 5/5/2008
33. I Saw 5/8/2008
34. In A Breath 5/20/2008
35. The Pace For Life.. For Death/ Do We Really Know 5/20/2008
36. Open Water 6/14/2008
37. What Is Pain? 6/14/2008
38. What If? 6/14/2008
39. Ocean 6/14/2008
40. What Tis' Present? (By My Grandfather) 6/14/2008
Best Poem of Bethany Maxwell

Jumping Horses

As you step into the arena,
Your heart rushes,
Horse following close behind,
Giving you steady nudges.
You mount yourself slowly into the English saddle
You move toward the jump.
Faster, faster.
Your feet ready in the stirrups
In jumping position,
As you grow closer to the jump
You are overcome by a weird sensation,
A sensation of happiness, nervousness, and excitement
As you post you feel the heart rate of the horse.
You are both one.
Faster, and faster still,
You feel as if you where flying,
Your horse raises its front legs,
You are ...

Read the full of Jumping Horses

As Sorrow Leads

You walk in the door no one does anything
Your walk to your room without a word
They say nothing
Their silence is the wound, it is the sword

You take the knife from your table
You slit you wrists and watch the blood drip
They wouldn't help even if they were able
They would just smurk and curve their lip

[Hata Bildir]