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m lang Feb 2022
being with you always felt               right.
now that you’re gone, all I do is      write.

the place in my heart that made me feel                           whole
is now replaced with an unbearable, gut-wrenching       hole.

our love that once left me feeling sky                       high,
replaced with anxiety at the thought of saying       “hi.”

yet, the vast desire remains to be within your   presence.
i’m still sorry about your birthday                       presents.

time spent with you was the highlight of my          week;
the current lack there of makes my heart grow       weak.

your intensity left me teetering on my      heels.
oh, in due time I hope this                          heals.

i’d preach to the world how much i loved you    aloud,
at this point, is it even                                            allowed?

“you’re­ Benny’s girl!” was my favorite       compliment,
you, truly you, were my greatest                 complement.

we were Romeo and Juliet, our perfect            allusion,
therefore the idea of lasting was simply an      illusion.

it was fun, it was      new;
if only we                  knew.

when i was yours and you were                    here,
i'd avoid the warnings i didn’t want to        hear.

the signs were there, yet i would think       “no,”
because at the time i didn’t                           know.

we couldn’t quite hit the           brake,
consequently causing us to       break.

our love was karmic, one big          lesson.
i’m hoping in time the pain will     lessen.

there was a time i thought the world was     ours,
if only i knew that day would be our last     hours.

as i write this, and time has                        passed;
all i have left of you is memories of the       past.
1-31-2022
Norman Crane Sep 2020
see the mirror mirror the sea
thyme scents sense time
me and you sleeping sleep in you and me
waves disquiet these quiet ways
and continents wear down down where continents end
barques dock while wild dogs bark
at oars or at
noon
redcurrants, sand beaches, beeches and recurrence
our morning mourning hour
terns whirled there / their world turns
The challenge here was to create a poem in which each line is itself plus its sonic reflection (see the mirror / mirror the sea). The theme was the seaside.
Yanamari Jul 2020
Touch and wither
Your presence bitter
Nothing said yet
Nothing spoken changed.

Beauty once loved
Beauty now tainted
Warmth once thoughtless
Warmth now questionable.

Life is given
Life isn't free
Existence is given
Will isn't free
Logan Robertson Jun 2019
To My Dear
Once more
I speak from no blind
Without arms
Without an edge
I wish all the while
The well was face to phase
You were once in the hunt
Yet it wasn't your scent I was after
It was your fallen words
Feelings
Like leaves that still a windy day
I remember that night
You hosted and hoisted my delusions
Pried my pride
With your rules and my rues
Shall a man be so shell shocked
At you
At the chill in the air
The wave of a pointed hand
The weave of lost tapestry
Unfinished
I often think back
At my metamorphosis
I was once told
Your dialogue
My dying on a log
Like tomorrows frog
To take upon a pond
And to jump into it

Logan Robertson

6/24/2019
Of all the women I've met she was not the norm, or the spark of my eye.
Yet she was a puzzle. I couldn't figure her out, or come closer. It was looking at twin and that may have been the attraction. The irony being that that one chance encounter having a lasting effect on me, where I do often think about her now.
Rhoemeoh May 2019
She smiles when he whispers "girl you are my Peace.
She never thinks to question it
because it make her feel accomplished.
She brags about this man like a mother
doting over her newborn baby.
Little did she know, she was just his Piece of ***.
Written 5/28/2019
No time to be a side piece.
Logan Robertson May 2017
The Belle Rang His Bell


night sweets for knight tiptoeing into her suite
his horse's beat, turning her hoarse red as a beet
please my boughs, she pleas then bows
he rode the road, horse's rose to red rows
as waves mete, cries of more amore for their meet

Logan Robertson

5/18/17
Yellow Moonlight Oct 2018
The throbbing, consuming see
Filling and emptying, bear.
Rushing-- riptide -- ravaging, flea!

It does not dry,
It does not sate,
It serves not to berate

The pushing, pressuring sea
Cleaning and dirtying, bare.
Calming. Candor. Caressing, Be.
homophones
Madison Sep 2018
The day that I might you

I caught a ferry

On the final day

Of February.

I moved along

Whistling, unwary

'Til you came across

Turned my cheeks red as cherries.

You moved as if floating

Light and airy

Skin glowing like the moon

Pale as dairy

Perfect pink lips

Sweet as a berry

I knew my heart would break

Were I to simply tarry.

So I asked you your name

As I felt was necessary

Then asked for a date

To which you agreed, merry.

And so we fell in love

Hearts fluttering like fairies

But permanence, we never spoke of

For, as you know

Results may vary.

That all changed the night

You opened a bottle of sherry

And asked, so matter-of-fact

If we might ever marry.

I felt myself turn pale

As the thought was scary.

I'm much too young to make a promise

I must keep 'til I'm buried!

Alas, I wound up here

Looking down the aisle, wary

While your relatives glow

Like the ****** Mary.

Today begins forever.

Are my feet cold?

Very!

But, when loving someone like you

These things might be necessary.

So I await the go-ahead

From good Preacher Jerry

Before I kiss those lips

Still as sweet as berries.

You may be thinking

I've gotten myself into a situation, quite hairy

But love itself is a risk

And after all

Results may vary.
A challenge I set for myself to see how far I could go with homophones. I think it worked?
Robert Zheng Apr 2017
i collect stamps
not the mail kind
not the male kind
not the may hill kind
not the mayo ill kind
not the may hue kind
not the maim yew kind
not the mwaya view kind
not the mwayam myeil kind
not the amaway yilovski kind
not the mynsigwi malomisten kind
snot snee smail skind
rot tree trail rind
trotsky braille grind
hot bree hail's tine
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
­kind
mail
mali
alim
liam
ailm
ailm
ailm
don't tell me what is and isn't poetry *******
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