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We hug
We kiss
We cuddle
In bed

We were just friends
We made out
To him
We were having ***
To me
We were making love
I was his friends with benefits
But he was my lover
David Lessard
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
These words are for me,
For I'm the one who's hurting,
I'm just healing myself.
I often wonder why we can't understand other's poems sometimes, but deep down it is the one who writes it knows the value of it.
John Bartholomew
Kids don't care what you look like in the morning
Your hairs a state, you're running late, and the toast is taking up a good time yawning
Kids don't care if their dinners mostly ****
The beans are cold, they'll do as they're told
As long as they can play with Monster Truck
Kids don't care if they missed that role as cameo
Just to play in the park, until it gets dark
Straight home for sausage and mashed potato
You see, Kids don't care if playing and just happy
A quick game of tag, whilst mum's chat with a ***
Then off to bed after watching a bit of telly,
Life is simple in the eyes of a child
It's as we grow older
We complicate the wonder for the monotonous working wild

i wore it again
and people complimented me
they say red is my color
and it suits me.

it's too thick and dark
did i overapply
no, it's the right amount
just enough
to make them think
i'm fine.

i look at myself
in the mirror,
and they're right
red shines on me,
so i applied
another layer,
and another
until my lips felt too thick,
but my eyes still see
the scars beneath it.
Is it where you come from that matters?
Is it your history, your line of descent?
Do they really know you, they chatter
Would they sit down with your friends
Where do you come from they ask
What is your story they say
Will you do away with your mask
Let them know you if they may

What went before doesn’t matter
Only the present counts
It’s a fresh start you barter
For your past in the ground
But when it comes down to it
They still want to know
Where did you come from
Where will you go

You choose your own fate
Your life is in your hands
Your future’s for you to make
You’re not bound to the land
Let them know you by your deeds
By your words and by your song
Do they need to trace your feet
To know where you belong?

What is a reputation -
But a binding rope
No leeway to stumble
For it’s a slippery *****
If the days gone by are to colour
Every speech and action
Where is the scope to discover?
Aren’t our lives but a fraction -
Of what they could be
If we believed we were free
To set forth and make waves
Or float along with the sea

But then again you may say -
Do people really change?
Can they let go of the hate -
Washed clean by the rain?
And can we trust someone who lays
No claim to yesterday -
For whom nothing can vouch
But the words of their mouth?
If one is constantly changing -
Then where does one stand?
How can the others trust you -
How can they shake your hand?
Is trust merely an illusion
We conjure up for ourselves -
To alleviate the confusion
To put reason on the shelf?
One day we all must choose
When there is much to lose
Whether to cling to the family tree
Or take flight and be free

Those you grow up with are forever
They’re the ones you never leave
Where you came from is your start
The first page of your story
But it can’t tie you down
It can’t hold you back
You mustn’t be afraid
For in the attack
They may have the armour of the known
And the weapons of their forebears
But you will have freedom
And an army of your brothers
Your brothers in thought
And ideals and humanity
Your sisters with whom you fought
The winds of disparity

So I suppose what I’m saying is
The only story worth telling
Is the one that unfolds
In the final reckoning
This is an old one, posted here a few years ago. Made a slight edit. Thought it was more relevant than ever so decided to repost.
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.
Lyna Salman
One night i dreamed i was a tree
Full strength and beauty within me
Though perilous storms hit the sky
My branches clapped quite high
And when i lost a limb or two
I grew stronger blooming new
Birds came to visit once to rest
Friends stayed and built a nest
Some leaves i just had to let go
They're old and new had to grow
I dreamed too much of that tree
As I burried the seeds it gave me
Sow Wisdom beauty and strength
I'll heighten to break free the fence

∴ Lyna Salman
your eyes still look familiar
but the looks they give me now are foreign
The classroom window had a clear view of the park
and when the July clouds painted the sky dark
the boy would start to cry!

Why, the teacher exclaimed, why these tears
it's all so pleasant, and there's nothing to fear
the rain is so welcome, it does only good
so why boy it finds you in such bitter mood!

Saying thus, he would walk back to his table
by the rain upon windowpane, I was inconsolable
brisker than rain were the tears in my eyes
in the thought there would be flood, water would rise
the walk back home would be a herculean feat
with the street flooded, hidden manholes beneath
I was haunted by the spectre of how the water rose
crawled past my chest, and reached up the nose
the swelling river would find me an easy victim
the teacher didn't know, I didn't know how to swim!

When the school bell finally rang, they ran joyous in the rain
splashing and soaking merrily, their way was heaven
only I stayed back, as if my feet had grown roots
late evening I reached home, in heavy sodden boots.
someone once told me
you never forget your first love
you always love them
maybe in some strange twisted way
your brain forgetting
all the pain they caused
you love them
and i think they were right
because in a way
i love you
and i think i always will
for some nonsensical reason
i will never see the world
the same because of you
and sometimes i wish
i could change that
erase you from my thoughts
as you distort them
with your unwavering power
but then i remember
i wouldn’t want it any other way
you have shaped me
into the person i am today
and because of that
and i wouldn’t change a thing

- i'll never forget you
Alex Teng
We fell in love by chance,
We stay in love by choice.
Nat Lipstadt
the lovely picture window (always the same, always different)

There are painters who must,
having found the place, must,
repaint it, compelled to repeat it,
each a variant, yet always the same,
always different

I awake to a perspective that is wide,
always differentiated from the prior,
always almost similar, but never with
the same exactitude, differing attitude,
same longitude, identical latitude,
always different

horizon distanced, in all ways a view
encompassing, duality near, far distant,
harmoniously, eyes open, magnetized
to wake before 6am by the suns modesty,
first light, first clarity, a curtain risen, yet,
always different

am I so blessed or thus cursed, for the urge
to disclaim and ode, compose and thus self-
decompose, analyze, reflect, slice apart, needing
the comprehensive understanding this me/place
scripts the raw appreciation, daily differentiated
always the same

this peaceful venue seizures, chest calmly
pounding at the insistence it commands,
the price I must pay for the prize to praise,
to sing, weep, reward restful sleep with lyrics
eked out, pouring, unsustainable yet finished,
always different

a single May Iris, returns, born from a torrential,
thunder, lightning, sky mayhem, rises by a sundial
greets midst a planted clump, upright rises, lavender,
in a majestic solitary, absent but a day prior, yet mine eyes
failed to witness its discernible emerging birthing creation,
always different,
always the same

here, I am Iris too, always the same, a day aged,
but the differences minute but stolid actualized,
this overnight sensation, my body’s restoration,
what I visualize, indivisible, now visible, realized,
miracle of continuity, unchanging chained change,
always different ,
always the same

wonder, am I more blessed, or a s~lightly cursed being,
my breath restored, wet eyes full brimming, changed,
revived but always modified, a newer old man, whose
sum total always a different number, but in sequential,
compelled to confess, no understanding of this miracle,
always the same,
always different,
this daily visionary miracle

6:36 AM
Fri May 24

Silver Beach,
Shelter Island
Goddess Rue
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
I think
the world
of us
than we
can offer
are the everything
causing me to be

did it
it is all
your fault

forever damaged
full of hate
all for
I should’ve
for someone
her to
into my
Victor Hugo

Waterloo ! Waterloo ! Waterloo ! morne plaine !
Comme une onde qui bout dans une urne trop pleine,
Dans ton cirque de bois, de coteaux, de vallons,
La pâle mort mêlait les sombres bataillons.
D'un côté c'est l'Europe et de l'autre la France.
Choc sanglant ! des héros Dieu trompait l'espérance
Tu désertais, victoire, et le sort était las.
Ô Waterloo ! je pleure et je m'arrête, hélas !
Car ces derniers soldats de la dernière guerre
Furent grands ; ils avaient vaincu toute la terre,
Chassé vingt rois, passé les Alpes et le Rhin,
Et leur âme chantait dans les clairons d'airain !

Le soir tombait ; la lutte était ardente et noire.
Il avait l'offensive et presque la victoire ;
Il tenait Wellington acculé sur un bois.
Sa lunette à la main, il observait parfois
Le centre du combat, point obscur où tressaille
La mêlée, effroyable et vivante broussaille,
Et parfois l'horizon, sombre comme la mer.
Soudain, joyeux, il dit : Grouchy ! - C'était Blücher.
L'espoir changea de camp, le combat changea d'âme,
La mêlée en hurlant grandit comme une flamme.
La batterie anglaise écrasa nos carrés.
La plaine, où frissonnaient les drapeaux déchirés,
Ne fut plus, dans les cris des mourants qu'on égorge,
Qu'un gouffre flamboyant, rouge comme une forge ;
Gouffre où les régiments comme des pans de murs
Tombaient, où se couchaient comme des épis mûrs
Les hauts tambours-majors aux panaches énormes,
Où l'on entrevoyait des blessures difformes !
Carnage affreux ! moment fatal ! L'homme inquiet
Sentit que la bataille entre ses mains pliait.
Derrière un mamelon la garde était massée.
La garde, espoir suprême et suprême pensée !
« Allons ! faites donner la garde ! » cria-t-il.
Et, lanciers, grenadiers aux guêtres de coutil,
Dragons que Rome eût pris pour des légionnaires,
Cuirassiers, canonniers qui traînaient des tonnerres,
Portant le noir colback ou le casque poli,
Tous, ceux de Friedland et ceux de Rivoli,
Comprenant qu'ils allaient mourir dans cette fête,
Saluèrent leur dieu, debout dans la tempête.
Leur bouche, d'un seul cri, dit : vive l'empereur !
Puis, à pas lents, musique en tête, sans fureur,
Tranquille, souriant à la mitraille anglaise,
La garde impériale entra dans la fournaise.
Hélas ! Napoléon, sur sa garde penché,
Regardait, et, sitôt qu'ils avaient débouché
Sous les sombres canons crachant des jets de soufre,
Voyait, l'un après l'autre, en cet horrible gouffre,
Fondre ces régiments de granit et d'acier
Comme fond une cire au souffle d'un brasier.
Ils allaient, l'arme au bras, front haut, graves, stoïques.
Pas un ne recula. Dormez, morts héroïques !
Le reste de l'armée hésitait sur leurs corps
Et regardait mourir la garde. - C'est alors
Qu'élevant tout à coup sa voix désespérée,
La Déroute, géante à la face effarée
Qui, pâle, épouvantant les plus fiers bataillons,
Changeant subitement les drapeaux en haillons,
À de certains moments, spectre fait de fumées,
Se lève grandissante au milieu des armées,
La Déroute apparut au soldat qui s'émeut,
Et, se tordant les bras, cria : Sauve qui peut !
Sauve qui peut ! - affront ! horreur ! - toutes les bouches
Criaient ; à travers champs, fous, éperdus, farouches,
Comme si quelque souffle avait passé sur eux,
Parmi les lourds caissons et les fourgons poudreux,
Roulant dans les fossés, se cachant dans les seigles,
Jetant shakos, manteaux, fusils, jetant les aigles,
Sous les sabres prussiens, ces vétérans, ô deuil !
Tremblaient, hurlaient, pleuraient, couraient ! - En un clin d'œil,
Comme s'envole au vent une paille enflammée,
S'évanouit ce bruit qui fut la grande armée,
Et cette plaine, hélas, où l'on rêve aujourd'hui,
Vit fuir ceux devant qui l'univers avait fui !
Quarante ans sont passés, et ce coin de la terre,
Waterloo, ce plateau funèbre et solitaire,
Ce champ sinistre où Dieu mêla tant de néants,
Tremble encor d'avoir vu la fuite des géants !

Napoléon les vit s'écouler comme un fleuve ;
Hommes, chevaux, tambours, drapeaux ; - et dans l'épreuve
Sentant confusément revenir son remords,
Levant les mains au ciel, il dit : « Mes soldats morts,
Moi vaincu ! mon empire est brisé comme verre.
Est-ce le châtiment cette fois, Dieu sévère ? »
Alors parmi les cris, les rumeurs, le canon,
Il entendit la voix qui lui répondait : Non !

Jersey, du 25 au 30 novembre 1852.
It is deeply bittersweet
To see you achieve the life that young you dreamed
Which exists so separately from the one young me fantasized

I take solace in the health of your family
And heed in the love in your eyes that still remains
Even after we cut ties
Saint kaya
The sky is
A graveyard of stars

And I remark
Something so tragically beautiful

Just like fireworks of art
From here to the nearest star

And I wish
I could lay awake
In the night

With you
And our lingering hearts

And tell you all about a tragedy
Called life
Nat Lipstadt
Why Men Cry in the Bathroom

For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.

Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.

We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
We are forever unprepared.

Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.

Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.

But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
*** tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,

The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath

Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.

Why just men?

I don't know,
it is all I know.

Jan 6, 2013
your effusive and lengthy comments are each a poem in their own right.  

Tinkered with June 22, 2013
With a push from Bala,
A serial peeper, thank God!
You can’t compare yourself
With the unbroken girls
Surrounding you
You already shattered
A new form
Of beautiful

a somewhat older poem
Kafka Joint
Nothing can justify your silence,
Unless you really don't want to talk about it.
No more lies
or games
no shame taken

I am
what I am
and will
with no fibre of me
just to make you feel
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
Creator Sun
You probably won't see this,
But what I want to say is that I.
I hate you.

You're stupid.
There isn't enough words to describe your awfulnesses.

So why does it hurt?
Why does it hurt when I push you away?
Why does it hurt when you chase someone else?
Why does it hurt so much?

As much as I want to say 'I hate you!',
I realise that I.
I love you.

It's stupid, isn't it?
If I told you this, you'll laugh at me.
Reject me. Pity me.
I just know you will.

And that's why I never told you.
That's why I kept pushing you away.
That's why I'm drifting away, drifting away
From my light. You.

But absence makes the heart fonder,
Doesn't it?
It hurts so much, it feels like I've
Left my heart behind. With you.
I'm salty that my poem got lost due to a connection error. Anyways, do you think this letter fits a Tsundere or Utsudere better? I'm experimenting with letter formats in an attempt to raise my motivation for my scenario writing which is where I've been focusing most of my attention onto. I have a lit exam tomorrow too, so extra practice in analysing my own poem for me!
It may look like I'm silent
But don't let it fool you
I'm holding back the will
To say that I love you
Eric Martin
I feel sick
Rotten to the core
All I want to do is quit
I can't take it any more

Nothing I do will stick
And just makes me feel more sore
I think about ending it
But I can't loose this war

I know there's no trick
To make me feel like I did before
But I'll keep on trying to make some thing fit
Because I believe life has more for me in store
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you
if only i could chase you with pizza but shots don't work like that
Below the starry sky,
Under the shade of the mango tree,
He said to her "I'm never giving up on you."
That's when they realised,
That they were meant to be.
Everything happens for a reason
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
Allison Wonder
Get out
Go away,
I've been working hard
For too many days.

Can't think
Won't sleep,
Not with you there
Herding all my sheep.

Get out
Go away,
My head's so full
And heavy with clay.

Can't think
Won't sleep,
Afraid of monsters
That are sure to creep.

Get out
Go away,
I never said
That you could stay.

Can't think
Won't sleep,
Could end it all
With just... one... leap...
(c) Alliso Wonder
to rhyme or not to rhyme
that is the other question
He was glowing in my eyes
A blazing star that could never die
So bright that he made me cry
keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­ l                  to is what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.
"Keep your eyes closed, love. sometimes all you have to listen is to what the sound of the waves tells you to do."

When I was much younger, beaches were my second favorite places. I still love watching waves as they go by, crashing against each other and the whole process repeating all over again.
Forget the crimson lips and heart,
forget they made you pale
Just write about your aching being,
Forget the fairytale.

Paint not a picture of your dreams,
Envisaging sweet laughters
Face life and look beyond,
Beyond the happily ever afters.
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