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Damien Ko Aug 2023
I took my old rickety-rackety down to the 38th annual Jickety Jackety
I glimpsed a flit of Thilts, purring Brazkets in a row
    a couple of Thrice Heim'ed Tippens
        and even one thundering Lugubrious Quandry
but mine was the only rackety that day at the Jickety Jackety

circuited with spection and plick-placked with aghast
did trundle my rickety-rackety with nary a quinkle
    "Welcome to the 38th annual Jickety Jackety", trumpeted the Sonorator
        "we eagerly await the clinking of clonks, the unexpected wabeling, and the ever hazardous finale"
    "a grand spectacle, a cacophonous din,"
    "shall the Jickety Jackety begin!"

a clamor strode through the spectators and washed over the contenders
as tension undid and knotted brows
    stitching and sewing a slurry and tangle

did dribble-thrash the Brazkets at the first note of "-in!"
on surged the Thraggonks not to be out done
        as my rickety-rackety gave a confident thitter-thatter
    and did dance onwards midst a flock of Thilts
        and my rickety-rackety chortled with patter
    firmly did lumber the Lugubrious Quandry
        each motion a thunder, it proceeded grandly
the chitter and natter as the crowds ribboned and tattered
the slither stomp wander of contenders contested
the sun ran slipshod down to the horizon
as Sonorator sang close the end of the the 38th

that day I went down to the Jickety Jackety
me and my rickety-rackety
makin mouth sounds
ㅡjatm Jan 2016
It's like the crowd in a concert,
These feelings that I have for you,
They're tough to control and rackety,
They're wild and can't be underestimated,
It's simply obstreperous.

4:56am and you're breaking my reverie.
But this seems good, continue it anyway.
I want this solitary time with you.

Whilst you're annihilating my mind,
I wish to confess something,
But with denegation, I'm frightened.
j carroll Feb 2013
rickety rackety hickory sticks 10
bundled for the burning 6
finicky syncope, verse that predicts 10
a pleasure twice returning. 7


clickety clackety silver-wrought tongues 10

kittens and cats in cahoots 7
naziirul mubiin Apr 2016
Our hearts are locked,
how could we set them free?
For sure with the remembrance of God,
our hearts are filled with glee.

Don't let your mind get crowded,
and the judgements of people get in your way.
Breath in, take it easy before it gets flooded,
one step at a time, if you may.

Our hearts are like sparkly gems,
even if we cannot comprehend or truly see,
but once in a while, it should be cleansed,
if not, how could it stay luminously shiny?

Why are we serving these lusts?
With full obedience and loyalty?
We should break away from its crust,
even though it's tough to control and rackety.

I know it's simply obstreperous,
but try to never give in,
it is treacherous and perfidious,
all these temptations of sin.

No matter what you have done,
know that God is readily forgiving.
Believe me, life is short, oh little one,
for verily from Him we came and to Him we are leaving.
Connor Jun 2015
Top of congregates  
sorrowed skulls
blending a reality of
sunken oil paintings
in the pavement-

-depravity
reflection metallic
on the
NOISY superstructure of
false Eden
struggling with
numerous pandemics-

-dawn cooling break of day
before dissolution
and the rackety BANG
that is
worldly affairs
beginning early on
in the coral sunrise/
seaside city losing it's scorch
from the ocean-

-distant Port Angeles murky
in the humidity
of Summer.

Black coffee sweeps away
the sleepies
and I'm ready to
throw myself into the
-ULTRAMODERN CATASTROPHE-
Taylor Marion Oct 2016
Dr.
The patient came to me with a plea I couldn’t refuse, so I placed my hand on his cold spine and warmed up to him, I the fire and he, suffering a harsh winter. With the rapid beat of his heart drumming against my palm, I doctored and diagnosed him. I fed him medicine and he was fine for a temporary time. A temporary, potentially affective, time. So warm, so brief—full recovery could’ve been conceived during the month of July if it weren’t miscarried, leaving that promise as a seed forever forgotten during harvest.

The patient would come back monthly for his check-up, claiming a new illness, begging for a new medicine. I’d give it to him willingly. After all, he needed help.

After about a year, I gave out so much to him there was hardly medicine left for my other patients.

Considering, I reduced his dose to even the imbalance.

“Can you not see how I need your help?” said the most desperate wrinkle of a face, “Did I do something to deserve this?”

“No! No, of course not. There is just limited supply and high demand. You are one of many mouths to feed!”

“Do you not care for me anymore?” Was the worst one. Of course I cared for him. Admittedly, I cared for him more than all my other patients. I know this is not professional of me to disclose, nor is it fair, but it is an honest guilt that tugs at my hair like a gluttonous infant.

Blame was thrown at me like cannonballs. Suddenly, I was the cancer he tried so hard to fight. That thought alone was too heavy a burden to bare, so I reluctantly gave him the entirety of my supply.

Day in and day out, I began to hear the other patients drop like thick glass behind me, where I would never look back. I kept a steady eye on him, as he was my child in a rackety crib I was too afraid to leave alone for the fear that he’d stop breathing at any moment. I am a miserable, exhausted mother of a child that never matured.

And it’s just he and I now, forever in frozen time.
Olivia Kent Sep 2014
NEW
I am a novel waiting for writing.
I am shiny, as a Christmas bauble,
So sparkly,
I am waiting to be displayed,
I am a dumb mute,
I am waiting to speak,
I am never quiet
I am an appeal waiting to be made,
I am the contents of a treasure chest,
The stifled lid lifts slowly,
so slowly,
Awaiting the coming changes,
self made,
a manipulation of myself,
the stagnant waters,
well,
they are running free now,
aerated and breathing,
Clear and fresh.
As the rickety rackety wheel turns,
I can feel the classic turning over.
Coffee tainted pages in my hapless history,
now it's all about me,me,me!
(C) Livvi
There are a whole lot of changes going on in my life now **
JONEL D BASBAS Mar 2016
Once upon a time, when time
is not yet the time I called mine.
That it's seems none among you
didn't have it yet, but we knew.
Thus, we just have the same petals.

I crossed the irritated river rather
than to skip my mother superior,
jumped up to the last rock of ages,
Frontally, I had bitten those arrow's edges  
Thus, book's wings are immortal.

I got smelled crazy grass,
saw a crystallized granule,
a beans can pop my lust,
and watched a riot's failure.
those aren't mine but a warning signals.

I saw an abandoned cat who adopt me,
A surrogate flower with an opened gate,
She told me about her petals, silent sea,
wounds from fortifying the book, it made
Her rugged but  its a pure story of past trials

I found that i'm just petal without "s".
A rocky river with its rackety drift,
Just a spark frailer than a atomic blitz,
and null, a shoot with a smallest leaf.
How strong she is that she made me feel mortal?
For the one who adopt me.
Olivia Kent Jun 2015
There is river that we drift upon.
Keep thinking we're making it, but then we drown.
You're full of sorrow and I'm full of bubble.
All we seem to feed  upon is each other.
We thrive upon wonderful music taste and litle bits of trouble.
I'm trying to reach you.
And still I float.
Riding the waves on a rackety boat.

You need to know I love you.
I know you love me too.
I'm  there to support you.
Together so long.

We can't do right for doing wrong.
Waking up with you is precious.
Sleeping with you,
Well it's just the best.
Lets fight to survive
We're both still alive.
I'm there for you and you are for me.
Frankie.
I don't wanna be free.
(C) LIVVI MMXV
Wrote a poem for my friend addressed to her boyfriend...this is it **
They are both lovely people ** Anything to help x
emma joy Apr 2013
i promise to never drag you on roller coasters you don't consent to
and if you do take a chance on the rackety rails
i promise to never let go of your hand

i promise to never pull you through this life
if you don't wish to be by my side
but, if you do decide to accompany me on this journey
i promise to never let go of your hand
Dave Hardin Oct 2016
Our Science Film

Autumn colors leave me
Pining for black and white
Grammar school reel to reel
Science films snaking through
Rackety Cold War projectors
Chalk motes swarming
Cones of gibbering light
Can-do voice-overs
Always a hiccup off
Read by radio men
Sporting pale miens
Pie plate headphones
Brylcreem slick
Perhaps a Scholastic
Short featuring winsome
Child actors playing
You and me
Button noses
Wrinkled in stricken
Joy at a baby bunny
Wide eyed and stock still
In an apple crate
Beneath an apple tree
Leaves schooling in binary
Shimmer on the summer
Breeze blowing through our film
An introduction to photosynthesis
Or the metamorphosis of caterpillars
It matters little to you
Beribboned in gingham
Or me flying flapping
Dungarees
Platinum hair
Whipping our faces
Sky a china white
Behind ivory billows
Framed forever
Dimpled and laughing
Milkweed exploding
From our fingers like secrets
Shared in alabaster
Sign language.
Lawrence Hall Mar 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                      A Lawnmower, Chlorophyll, Birds, and Love

           “A little place in the country, a dog, a few good books –
                               every Englishman’s dream”

            -David Niven as Sir Arthur in 55 Days at Peking

A lawnmower is a rackety thing
But the garden doesn’t seem to mind at all
This second mowing of the season:
“Just a little trim along the edges”

The bees among the flowers and their little pool
Bobbin’ robins up early for their worms
Woodpeckers and finches at the feeder
And young oak leaves showing off their new green

Honoring each life as a sister or brother –
Love is much better than shooting each other
A poem is itself.
bulletcookie May 2018
hours have circled by in hope of seeing you approach-
to first notice your eyes exchanged in anticipating trance
when world stops: ends in a centrifugal flight into galaxy's arms
gravity giving up its intimacy for an arrow's push of this heart
into limitless space, unfold, attest a perfect conjunction

endearments will speed across our dance stepped stars
today, tomorrow
wearing chameleon skin hues that beckon a touch to solidity

now's concrete lot: sprouting weeds, grime, flat plastic bottle; denies parking
waiting for the sixty-seven north among phone-hands, averted faces
older wrinkles, tired limbs filling street cloths in rush hour's stupor
hurtling towards The Spiral Tavern to meet absent friends
who's beers foam happy condolences to current regrets and sorrow

a bus transfer lies deep within a pocket, there beleaguers ride home
empty stools, tables, rackety riot music playing exponentially
into tin-tapping ears and restless mind full of arresting alarms
talk becomes pennies on the dollar, prose runs off a cliff
time revolves around pleasantries walking towards the exit

Where are you now ...?

-cec
xpzlol Sep 2019
People tell me that things will get better
to trust my gut and hum my songs.
But to waste goes all I've tried and done
left in deep dark drains and pitiful pits.

I envision my endeavours in magical colours
that seems so mundane, that haven't been
discovered.
And writing my dreams on a bland blank sheet
it feels so incomplete.

I cross my heart and swear
I swear
that the pieces I create shall be priceless and
timeless.
And that whatever lays in the far-fetched future
will only be sparkles and glitter-full glory.

With the rackety clack of a Newton's cradle
I live on in envy of what I have created.
My eyes are shut
so I can see
a myopic view of me.

Like Icarus who fell so far
my ambitions fly close to the sun.
The Phantom whose love was stolen
away
left trapped in a Box 5.


I drive myself to my greater potential
Like Jason and his Argonauts.
The insanity of such greatness is flattering
and absolutely morale flattening.

I keep my thoughts in stasis
pulling them
apart and piecing them back
the creativity of lego pieces
infinite

Corralling my inspirations
like Noah on his Ark.
The warnings given days too early
and now I hold naught

but the night hallucinations that
keep me going
and the sun in the dusk sky
Daniel B Mar 2018
This is not just a text,
This is history of my life,
Please listen to me,
I need to pour out my ****....

I am grew up in a poor, large family,
Sometimes there was not enough money,
Parents could not pay much attention to me,
And I, without having an upbringing and a brain
I am did not become what I am would like to be.

I'll start with elementary school.
I was subjected to bullying and beatings,
On the part of classmates,
This wounded my child soul for six years,
Until I beat those *******,
Which became me then "Friends."
Even teachers hated me for my poverty,
And for the fact that I could not afford normal clothes!

And now the most interesting ... my high school.
It all began at the time of the transition from the fifth grade to the sixth,
It was summer,
I agreed to take a walk with an unfamiliar girl and go "drink tea" to her home,
But we did not drink tea, we drank alcohol,
And when I was already a little drunk she started kissing me, ******* me,
Then she undressed herself, I first saw a female *****,
And then she sat down from above, and at first it was scary,
Then it became nice, but she ***** me as she wanted!
I became a pervert
Because of that ******* *****!
A little later I got into a bad company,
We were engaged in hooliganism,
And then I was betrayed, and I got into the police.
I began to get drunk every day,
And two years I was alcoholic,
In passing I am tried all sorts of ****,
Became addicted to drugs
****** with girls,
(From one I have a son)
And abandoned his studies.
It was a difficult and fun period of my life.

And now the ninth grade and the first year of college!
Over time, I was fed up with the rackety life,
And I found a permanent girl,
I loved her, and I was ready for anything,
I am even stopped using drugs and alcohol!
Although we often quarreled,
Sometimes we could not be each other,
But we could not do without each other either,
And, according to the law of the genre, one day we had a lot of quarrels,
I tried all the weekend and apologized,
When I saw her last time we even had ***,
And the next day she left me!
And now I miss her, although it has been almost a year ago,
I returned to a past life,
But not happy, as it was before.
And fate has more gifts for me,
I just can not forget it,
And if I forget, then somebody will just remind me of it,
Or she will write ...
But...
How will be, so will be.

At the time of writing this text, I'm only seventeen.

— The End —