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 Aug 2018
nish
------------------------------------
 \ why is it that time slips /                              
   \she slides and slithers /
     \right through these  /
        \ infinite crevices  /
          \found all over /
             \my greedy /
                \ hands,  /
                   \ like /
                   /    •   \
                 /       s      \
              /            a       \
           /             n            \
        /                 d              \
      /                                      \
    / in the dainty hourglass \
  /sitting aloft my skew shelf.\
-----------------------------------------
I wanted to try shape poetry again, and I have to say this was MUCH harder than .leafing
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2633672/leafing/

It took forever to align the slashes to give this poem shape, without them it didn't look like an hourglass.
I hope you liked this poem and I'd love it if you commented some links to any shape poetry you've tried out.
Hope you enjoyed :)
 Jun 2017
A Thomas Hawkins
Sometimes
                                                    a
 ­                                                spark
                                         ignites         a
                                       flame,
                                       other times
                                                        it
­                                                    simply
      ­                                sputters  out
                   ­                leaving
                                behind   nothing
                              but                        ­a
                                wisp of smoke
                                  and a hint
                                    of
                     ­                sulphur,
                                       the only
                                        evidence
           ­                           we even
                                      tried.
               ­                            ...
 Nov 2016
SøułSurvivør
.  
                                  //////    
                                    /////////      
                                   feathers///
                              are as/////
                                     cloud canyons
                                 they are as///
                              angel hair///
                            or they are///
                          as black as//
                        doom // the///
                            color of despair  
                        they are bright  
                  as parrots//////
                    emerald rainbow
              hues // rubies //
               topaz // peridot //
              deepest sapphire
          blue // but the ///
            best thing about      
        feathers // or /////    
           plumes if you poets    
      will /// if they are      
      slipped // if they are    
clipped /// they /////    
make a clever //////      
Q                                  
U                                        
I                     ­                       
L                                        ­      
L                                                
========­====================


SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/14/2016
I hope this comes out!
 Nov 2016
SøułSurvivør
... .
....  .. .. ...
.. ...the craters.. ...
... ... ..of  the  moon.... ....
. ...they are   both high.. ..
... ..and                       steep... ..
....they                                 are.. .
... .both                              low and.. ...
..fearsome                               they are..
...craggy                           and deep..... ..
... .people look    at them in awe....
...lovers cry and spoon...
.. ... . nothing's quite as lovely. .....
... ..as the        craters... ..
... ...  .of the moon.... ...
.... .. ..○○ ○•°°○....  ...
....  ... ...


SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/15/2016
A nod to our Super-moon tonight
life

                          
                                ­                              is


                      
                      a


             ­ question


    till


    the

    last

   **day
 May 2014
SweetCindy
I AM STRONG  
     I have learned the meaning.    
         Of love.         Of heartache.       Of loss.  
I've grown.  Shed dead leaves of sorrow  & pain.
   My branches                have borne                      heavy loads,    
Enjoyed the pleasure of young children swinging, climbing, laughing
Names carved into my heart: "I was here."  "Cindy <3 'So & So' 4-eva"
But over the years........the bark expands.........the names slowly fade
My outer skin.   of bark grows.    thicker,    harder to leave your mark
      My purpose & appeal         *      *         have changed.    
    I have done               **              my very best  
     To ward off                   the "termites" 
   That      eat me up        inside.  
My core, my limbs
Are solid
my roots
run deep
Nourishing
waters
Of truth
in my veins
Holding dear
only The most
important
Ones in my life
Mom                            Dad
Michael -      my brother                Jeanette -    my sister
Naomi.      Lisa.         Micaela.      Marina.          Abby.       Caleb.
MY   TRUEST                                    &                                GREATEST LOVE
MY.                   BEST.              FRIEND.               JEHOVAH.               GOD.
 Feb 2014
JK Cabresos
I write through the words I could not speak,
for every teardrop, lying on her lonely lips;
she is my sunset before night comes awake,
she is my poetry, in my dreams, when I sleep.

I write on the silence embraced by the night,
for every hope, foresee but strength to move;
I cast myself away from the shadows of life,
she is my poetry, in my eyes, when I love.

I write those heartaches she tried to seclude,
for every doubt, which ever maimed her feet;
she is a one perfect love story to be told,
she is my poetry, in my grave, on my death.
Copyright © 2012
 Aug 2013
Eva Encarnacion
The
  ants
    came
       today
          Through
              the always
                  hiding crack
                    Lurking unknown till
                      already on her back
                         Marching steady towards her heart
                        their regular attempt to tear her apart
                       The unannounced guest
                      Here to steal leftover happiness
                    Happiness that would hold her over
                  Turned to crumbs eaten away till she was numb
               She could list them off by name
               Knowing exactly who to blame for the excruciating pain
               There was Rejection, Frustration, Unmet Expectations,
                Helplessness, Worthlessness, and her favorite Loneliness
                        They’re never quick to leave
                                  hiding underneath
                                           her sleeve
                                                For one last go
                                                        at her heart
                                                             before they
                                                                          truly
                                                           ­                    did
                                         ­                                            d e   p     a       r         t
 Aug 2013
Eva Encarnacion
My uncle believed in aliens
UFOs n’ all he had boxes upon boxes
of articles in the halls it was the first thing on his mind
and the last thing on his breath and my mother couldn’t stand it
that’s he’d never let it rest he vowed to me he’d find them that he’d
become one of their own and that I shouldn’t doubt him when
he used his serious tone he’s been gone for quiet
some time now he left without saying jack
the
only thing
I wonder is
if he’s ever
coming back
 Jul 2013
JK Cabresos
Lights off, ma bad-*** homies are juz drank,
buh then I saw ya dancing in da club.
Ma head was blown, let's kick it!
Cuz ya could be ma tight moll,
o' let's juz put a bullet
on the clock in these tight walls.

If I'm wit ya,
ma heart could fly so high like a G6,
Imma be glad if ya be mine
tho I ain't da niftiest sheik.
And if loving ya could take ma life
to da street, cuz of a set trippin,
then ya could be a flower
on ma Chicago Overcoat on ma big sleep.

Miss me wit dat! Ma bad,
buh I ain't gonna take ma words back,
I ain't no good, buh Imma gangsta poet
juz a poet wit rhyming words as AK,
so Imma put sum shizzle down
and write what it means.

To me love is gangsta, family is gangsta,
loyal is gangsta, if that's not gangsta,
I don't wanna be gangsta.

O' ma sheba, wazzup!
Let's show 'em what is real luv.
Then luv me less, until ya luv me more
and let's live as gangsta poets
in this gangsta world.
I'm trying to be a Gangsta Poet. It's really hard though. I'm trying, trying trying. My friend, jerelii told me to make some of this poem in response to hers. Well, Chuck started this and I don't know if he would like this one. I don't know how to be this so-called gangsta. This is just a poem, to the rappers out there, I wrote this just for fun.
 Apr 2013
JK Cabresos
a raven, alone in an old empty church
living by the silence of the moonlit night;
soars into the sky; crying on a silver birch
of seeing other creatures being recognized,
a raven, a captive of every old yearning vow
seeks a better place, yet wings are broken;
if only this strident world is listening now,
that raven might whisper its existence.
~ (EDITED) ~

All Rights Reserved © 2013
 Apr 2013
Tilly
Mainlining
e v e r y
poetic
word
THE BUZZ
is

w
o
r
t
h
i
t

.
.
.
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