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 820° 
Canis Latrans
"Do not worry I will be gentle," said the wolf.

"You mean to tell me, a beast as monstrous as you, is capable of mercy," said the traveler.

"No, not mercy," said the wolf. “Gentleness, there is a difference. I will devour you tenderly.”
I was wandering about the forest when I came across an old traveler engaged in conversation with a rather large wolf. I caught only the the tail end of their discussion, however for some reason it stuck with me after I returned to my den. I thought I would share what I heard with all of you.
 331° 
Shafira Azzahra
what do you want?
dear you, dear me, dearly
 273° 
Madison
Not all depressed cut,
Not all sad shed tears,
Not all strong fight,
Not all monsters roar,
Not all young are innocent.
Some just work harder to maintain a mask.
We are here,
And you have reason to fear,
We are the best liars,
We can manipulate the greatest con artist without batting a single eyelash.
Watch out we are coming.
This is a dark and serious prom but that didn't change the fact that In was tempted to put "and we're *****" instead of " And you have reason to fear" ****
 163° 
Onoma
there are words

that join hands

with other words

to go beyond the

apathy of meaning.

whereas reading &

comprehension are

what you'll have them

be.
 160° 
Mykenzie
He likes me,
He likes me not...
He likes me
 156° 
Al
White clouds part, the canvas turn dark, inside these thoughts still gleam, seeking out the stars.
 152° 
James Floss
Alack!
Taken aback!
It’s a fact, Jack.

Think you’re on track
Then: smack!
It’s a backtrack.

So you go back, Mac
Give yourself some slack
Have a flapjack stack

Carry what you lack
Remove it from the black
And take it back, Zach!
 145° 
Bill MacEachern
TOMATO CHASE

Now....
Out of season
They're reddish
Uniform in size & shape
Firm
And flavorless

In season
They're RED
All sizes and shapes
Firm, soft, some just right
And flavorful

Yesteryears
They were magic
Like the transformation of a caterpiller
The little yellow flower
Gives way to the tiny green marble
Stalk n stems grow bigger
Marbles grow larger
The green fuzzy rough stems
The scent
That wonderful smell
So unique to the tomato plant
They turn green to red
Some even get incubated on a sunny sill
When it's time
Knife reveals seeds and red splotched juice
And the TASTE
A taste that fades with our age
That TASTE that we chase every summer
Close
But never a ringer
Nostalgia
 144° 
Lila Timberwolf
It hurts on the inside
Hiccuping crying
Screaming inside and wanting to outside
Saying things we didn't mean
But you never said sorry
Only me
It hurts like a stab wound left to rot
The scar will stay of what you said
Tears have gone dry
So have my emotions
Left drained and withered
I have nothing to say
Just a hurt on the inside.
An endless pain
That you are not sorry for
Cause you meant everything
 127° 
Gods1son
Then God looked over all He had made,
and He saw that it was very good!

Then I looked at all the poetry I created
and I saw they are all beautiful!
You have to see beauty in the works of your own hand.
 112° 
Mohannie

You're more beautiful
And more outstanding and bright
Than you'll ever know.

You're worth more than you'll know. Just a reminder.
 105° 
Traveler
I just sat there
Staring out the window
Her words like blowing rain
I close my mind a little tighter
But her words blow through me
Just the same

Trees cushioned in quilts of snow
Life has been frozen before, you know
But in the comfort of our loft
Our sheets are warm
Her covers soft

Seasons change like minds unmade
And snow can fall as deep as pain
Change shall come
In a quickening breath
And spring shall arrive
In the time that's set...
Traveler Tim
 104° 
Porpor
It's so bad in this place
I have to leave
I want to get to the good place
Heaven on earth
Is where I'm looking for
The key of that place, is goodness
I'm not a good man
But I'm not a bad man either
I try to better my life
And I will go
To the heaven on earth
 100° 
Lynn
Ah
Ahhh
Mouth open as wide as his tooth gab.
Ahhh
Getting excited as the plane get closer..
Ahhh
He grabs into it and waits for the next..
Mommy I’m full....
quick look away now it’s a bird
Ahhhh
Mouth open once more for the Landing.
If you know kids I always found that funny about them
 95° 
Kyra
I have never felt right,
writing this poem.
They keep saying
that I'm "strong".
I don't feel strong.
I feel...

like ripping off my skin
wouldn't be enough
that breaking my hands
couldn't help

I feel lost.
The lion has left me.
 80° 
Hg
wri
ting is
threading
your           life
thro             ugh
a ne           edle
and         if
you sew
secrets
you'll
get
po
ke
d
a
l
i
t
t
l
e
.
©Hg
 77° 
Hurble B Burble
Where's all the good stuff?
Not all this love fluff.
Let's get freaky.
Let's get strange.
Not all peaky.
We need range.
Get odd.
Get peculiar.
Be weird, it's cool.
People don't mind.
Be sad but interesting.
Not just confessing.
Be unique.
Have some flavor.
We all like some weird to savor.
Express or Depress.
Just be different.
Don't hold back.
Let it get weird.
Used to see a lot more weird on this site. All poetry is great. Even the fluff. But at midnight I just wish there was a little more weird. One can only read so many love poems, X is like Y and it makes me feel Zzzzzzz.
 77° 
m h John
I was a dandelion
In a field of Daisies,
Waiting for you
To come along
And make a wish
Out of me
happy world poetry day!
 72° 
wordvango
Tame now, in the midst of
The forests limbs, strong bark arms
Brown like a farmers,
All round.
a (the) woman’s body (pretty pleasing)

is my reciprocal

her waist is my happy place

her neck is my doorway

the rest is
best when she is mirror accessorizing,
preening, **** upon first rising,
tallying the gains and the losses

unaware of my watching,
never satisfied she, tho she is 98% unadmitting contented,
as she shifts her weight,
from knee to knee extended alternating
with slow delicacy

for the pleasure is trebled
for her imagine image reverberates
throughout the house

for ever mirror is pre-positioned
accidentally angled just so

she doesn’t know and asks why I’m grinning,
answer is
no confessionary, no telling I’m sinning,

eyes scheming-dreaming of her reciprocity

she smiles and says  
“good morning bad boy”

maybe she does know
but you won’t tell her,
we, you and me,
are pretty pleasing

she is 1/me
she is won over me
it’s a beautiful thing
this day and age
with bubbling permafrost
with drug-resistance
with obesity treatments
with technological advancements
with scientific discoveries
with silent wars
with blue lava
with bleeding glaciers
with divorce
with sensitivity
with my generation
of people believing
this new generation
is completely and
utterly clueless as a
common occurrence

but let’s think about
what these kids are
into nowadays.

let’s think about who
invented these inane
things for the kids.

my generation of people.

so the kids of today are
the ones who are ******
for liking the things
that we’ve created?

I’m sorry but we have to
be the ones who are obtuse
for believing such things,
oblivious for not
realizing them and
showing the world
we have
little or no imagination
anymore.

the generation before us
has lied to us and
thought us to lie
to the generation
after.

whether it’s the gods
or holidays
or what not.

the youth of the today
are autonomous.
they can not take
responsibility for
their actions nor do
they understand and
just go along
with the trends,
much like,
all the generations
before them
but we need a scapegoat
to cover up our own
farce implementations.

the truth of the matter is..
we’re all a little vacuous
in our own way
especially the ones with
an answer for everything.
living in an imperfect world
where there’s always room
for improvement
nothing for us
or against us
wrapped up in our
congratulatory
self-contradictory
and illogical theories
and as useless as
exploding appendix.

the lost generation
the interbellum generation
the silent generation
the baby boomers
generation x
the millennials

a strong admixture
of imbecility and
self-assurance
filled with belief
and unawareness
to a senseless world

like hate
like blame
like gossip
like jealousy
like being offended
like being impressive
like the punk rock dream
like hospital waiting rooms
like fundraisers and charity events
like your co-worker to the right and
the left of you
and their families
and their families before
them

our greatest creation
our strongest aide

to deconstruct
 67° 
gayatri
l̸̨̨̟̤̥̱͆̇͋́̀̀͘͜ȩ̸̧̮̳̣̣̾͊̀͝s̵͕̈́́ş̵̢̠͓̩̈́͜ ̴̛͙̙̤̿̉w̸̰͕̜͔̼͑̆̑͘ö̸̧̟̗͚̘̠́̾r̷̺̮͉͐̓̈́̓̋̿̆͛͝d̷͔̅̏̆̊̚̕s̶̠̺͒́͒̌͊̋̐̂ͅͅ­̨͔͔̟̯̤,̵̛̼̹̖̙̰̍̍͒ͅ ̴͚͕͔͎̤̜͋
̴͓͋́͑̅͒̊m̵̭̈́̋́͊̄͘o̸̮̫͇͉̍͛̇̅͂͒̑̕r̵̳̹͚̺͚̂̆͝ë̶͇̗̺̬͍̖́́ͅ ̵̘̙̣͉̏̇̂̏͐͑͑ͅs̵̲͔͛͋̈́̾̉̊̏͛̓͆k̴̯̳̞̪͕͂̆̌̈́͘͝͠ͅì̸̧̢͈͖̖̠͉̖̫̐͗̃̏̿͑ͅn̴̘͋­͍̤̳͓̙̲͍͕,̷̲͈͆̈̈́̂̑̓ ̸̭̩̭̲͐̆͊̓̑͌͜
̸̡͍̬̺̬̜̙́̈́̈́͝m̸̛̥̳͛̃͝o̶͓̔̏͗͋̄͌̓͝r̸̯͉̤̣̠̗͚̜̬͂͜e̶̛̓̐̄͊̌­͇̩̯͔͓͕̹̝̼̃̈́ ̷͕̾s̴̨̮̰̠̦̞̖̬̤̪̅̏̿̾į̶͚͓̈̎̋̄̀͂̓̇͝l̸̡̹̯͑̓̐͊̈́͆́͌̚͝e̵͖̰͑̎̿͒̒͠͝n̸̛̑̋̚­̨̫̹͍́͝c̵̛̳̤̻̞̠̲͎̖̯̓̎͌͝ē̶͇̟̦͖,̸̧̘̦͔͔͚̙̼̳̤̿͂͘͘ ̶̻̘̼̞͗́̍͋͠͝͠
̵̙̜̀m̸̝͒͒͐́̔̉̎́͌ͅo̸͕̙͕̭̮̟̱̠̒̆͌͗͗͆̕̕r̷̹͎̈ẻ̶͇̜̮̦͒͌̊̾ ̶̖͍̪̩̪̥̺̾̏̐̿̈s̷̡̼̲̈́ͅͅi̷̗̇̃̀͌̓̉̃͝n̶͕̐̓͆́̄.̶̧̖͈̮̲̲̺̜̦̈̄͐̎̔̆͠͝ͅ
take me out.
 64° 
Brooke
When I was little
I was scared
Scared of the monsters living under my bed
I used to hide, under my blanket
Under my blanket, I was safe
The monsters couldn’t reach me under my blanket

My parents used to say
The monsters would go away
I would grow up and that then they would leave

But I grew up
And the monsters didn’t leave
Turns out my monsters, grew with me
Now instead of under my bed
The monsters live inside my head

So I hide, under my blanket
Where I think I am safe
Wondering if after all this time
My blanket can still keep the monsters at bay
 64° 
Anton
Утес базальта
Нахальный прыткий бриз
В подоле солод
В песчаных рифах низ  

Раскинуться ветвями
дуба
и лунными ночами
не отлучаться в утро

Рассыпаться грезами
в ладони,
а младенческими звездами -
на ландшафтном пероне

Позабыв о билете
и утренней котлете,
грезить о лете

Пусть в скелете
дерутся идеи
и плавает ветер

А заря заметит,
хлебом приветит,
дрожью обдаст

Валун расколется
с громовым треском
и силы придаст



Он плечист,
а в ключице
мягок и чист

Лес его волос
в зарнице
кудряв и кучист

Блеск его полос
в ресницах
прян и лучист



Небо сгорает
в ночницах,
дремля
под хоровод его песен

Замшелая плесень
прискальных деревьев
ласкает вены
листьев и прутиков-лестниц

Засеять
мечтами
тропу

Присесть
уставшим
на мглу

Травинки
жаждют
жить

Травинки
живут,
чтобы пить

У его мечты
нет следа
Остаться здесь напоследок
и каждую чайку чтить
 54° 
Ariana Bagley
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
 50° 
Poetry
Lick my lips
Cradle my face
Gaze into my eyes
And tell me I'm safe
 49° 
M-E
Today
We write
So when we leave
We are remembered
 46° 
Chase Parrish
Onward we trudge to Miserthorpe.
On blood soaked dreams to lend support.
Knock-kneed, railing, gasping for breath
We march through the marsh toward our death,
But death will not out soul's escort.

The hordes of the undying court
Will shortly rend our lives cut short.
There is no hope; never the less...
Onward we trudge

Oh, if the past I could abort
I would have strived to build rapport
With that young lass from Watercrest.
My dreams of glory reassessed.
Yet time moves on without distort.
Onward we trudge
This is going to be a part of a collection of poems I call The ****** Journal.
You see my friends and I play a lot of D&D, and we ran a campaign in my friends world where there's this area called the deadlands, and I wanted to tell the story of an unnamed solder having to fight against the evil there. Feel free to drop a critique, as I haven't done too much poetry where I am not the speaker. So this will be kindof new to me.
 45° 
b e mccomb
i dread the day you learn
for the first time that
you can't just love all
the darkness in me away

and no matter how much
you care i will still toss
and turn at night and scars
might still appear on my skin

i dread the day you realize
that you can't cure me
and sometimes all you can do
is stand next to me and
hold my hand through fog
pouring out of my ears so black
and thick we can't even see
each other's faces

i dread the days i can't
get out of bed
the days you want to
take me out and all
i can manage is a prettified
shell of myself

i dread the day you learn
that sometimes no matter
how hard i try i still can't
pull myself together

the day you learn that
there isn't an answer
you can give that will
save me from my fears

you aren't the first person
who has tried to love the
darkness inside away
my family and friends
have given it their all
but someday you too will learn
that if love could
cure mental illness
the world would be
a much better place
copyright 8/6/18 b. e. mccomb
 45° 
Diya
I wasn't born
With this hole in my heart
But it developed gradually
When pain drilled my chest to cling it's art.
Oh! I was smiling radiating the usual rainbow colours!
But just then, I was grayed and torn
Just like  withered flowers!
The pain! Yes the pain
Is unbearable
My tears all are in vain
They are just emotional fool , being unstoppable!
I am fed up of emotional breakdown
My soul became mournful, being lost in the ghost town!
I know, sorrows are part of life
But how can I frequently bear the pain that cut deeper than the knife!
I try my best to just forget and move on
But what shall I do when I am trapped in the useless emotion?
Just in a process of getting relieve from the feeling of being hurt! It's really difficult...
Sorry,my poem sounded somewhat boring but I really meant what I said .
 45° 
Diana
we are
living
breathing
poetry
in
motion

We are the muses that haunt others
Late in their silent nights
That are comprised of a
Pencil or pen
Paper
And lingering minds

We are the strangers
That elicited a thought within another
That manifested into a poem

We are the vessels
Of poems written
And poems to come

we are
living
breathing
poetry
in
motion
 44° 
lX0st
Paint me a picture
Of your skin
Does it bronze beneath the sun?
Or sizzle and blush
Like your cheeks
When you’re in love?
Is it soft to the touch
Like when your palms graze
The smooth surface of water?
Or rough around the edges
Like your favorite book
And its lovingly worn corners?
Does it melt in the heat
Like sweet syrupy treats
Dripping through your fingers?
Or does it welcome the winter
With wide open arms
As if greeting a lover?
Paint me a picture
Of your skin
 43° 
sadhealer
you said I'll be your first and last

and you end up being my forever first,

and I'm never your last.
 43° 
Temporal Fugue
I know I won't get to all
but ******, I'm gonna try
thumb up to every comment
up until the day I die

I can't react to every line and word
but ****** I can try
thumbs up to ever poet/poetess
maybe no one has, to cry

I'm just a singularity
but ****** all too ****
we, as a community
stand up, and hear the yell

I'm not you, and you're not me
but when you see thumbs down
chime in with words and thumbs
chase the trolls, outta HP town
Thumbs down has no other purpose that to provide trolls with a mechanism to pester and put forth their hate. REMOVE it! You can't control how many accounts people have here (it's not realistic to assume you can) so remove their reason for creating them!
Nothing really left to say :(

Thank you my friends for the daily, I feel undeserving, but extremely, appreciative! :) (bow)
 43° 
Eli
Here on the sand, I stand.
The ocean becoming more daring:
With every wave sent out
The water almost touches my toes.

I wish I could stay here,
Standing in this peacefulness.
Time is at a standstill:
Just trapped completely in beautiful nature.

But I’ve got places to be,
Sights to see.

So I pick up my little bag of souvenirs:
3 igneous rocks,
4 metamorphic rocks,
And a bunch of pretty shells.

I leave behind my own souvenirs:
Footprints imprinted and name written
On the wet, gritty sand.
Soon the waves will stretch out far onto the beach,
Washing away any trace my existence.

It’s like I was never there….
Just a distant memory of the parting waters.
You are
1 in 7.5 billion
people on earth

Our earth is
1 in 8
planets in our solar system

Our solar system is
1 in 500 solar systems
in our galaxy

Our galaxy is
1 in 200 billion
galaxies

Our universe
1 in many possible
universes

We are so small
 40° 
Crow
we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections
 40° 
Joliver
If there was one word
One word, isolated by itself
That I cannot stand above all others
It would have to be "Okay"
I despise "Okay"
"Okay"
Is how your millionth day at work went
"Okay"
Is off-brand raisin bran
"Okay"
Is how you say school is going
When you don't want to admit you spend
Every second of it
Wanting to die

"Okay"
Is packed to the brim with
Hidden implications
Like a treasure chest
Filled with bottles
With little subliminal hatreds
Written on tiny slips of paper
Passively aggressively pushed inside
To discover later
As I pull out a treasure map
And try to decipher
Where I went wrong

"Okay"
Is a one word dismissal
That feels like an essay a thousand pages long
"Okay"
Is a poison dripping with disinterest
When I dared to share with you
Something I thought might make you smile
"Okay"
Is like trying to talk to a wall
While watching the paint on it dry
"Okay"
Takes two seconds to write
Yet I waited days
For that dreaded word
To grace my notifications
"Okay"
Should be used sparingly
As if each time you send it
You **** the receiver just a little bit
"Okay"
Should not be said so often that
I know what you're about to say
Like I saw it in a crystal ball
"Okay"
Is not looking up from your phone
When I tell you about my day
"Okay"
Is not the proper response
To "I love you"

They say that the opposite of love isn't hatred
It's indifference
And I can't think of a response
More indifferent to pouring out
My heart into your hands
Than "Okay"
At least the last thing you said to me
Before we parted ways
Showed that you cared
At least a little bit
"I hate you"
Stung less
Than the thousands of times
Over our countless conversations
You responded
"Okay"
Okay?
 40° 
jeffrey conyers
We all have our doubts.
And we question many things.
Even the love in our lives and various other things.

If I lost it all?
Would you still be by my side?
If I lost it all?

If I suffer an illness?
That might be considered fatal.
Would you still be by my side?

If I should get rich?
And lose it through investments.
Would you still be by my side?
If I lost it all?

Or fade away like so many have done others?
And have no regrets about it.
Like that love never meant a single thing.
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