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Naladandelion
I feared that you will learn the lessons of beauty and injustice That the poetry your own body can create will abandon you That the gifts of your own strength and passion will be dulled before they are even born I feared that you will cease to yearn for flight
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Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 11:33 AM UTC
Yearn for flight
Your words are slippery when I’m around You make perfect holes to fall underground Your hair is so wild when I’m around Antenna wrapped up and round and deep down Your fingers make me ticklish when you’re  around   Everything goes ...pound ... pound .. .pound Your skin makes me dizzy when you’re around I can’t see, I can’t taste, I can’t hear a sound
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Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 2:21 AM UTC
When You’re Around
You were my favorite tree Almost too beautiful for me to truly see Your hardened exterior splinters mine Still, your broad shoulders I long to climb You were my favorite branch My summit on slopes noted for avalanche Swinging up, I giggle from your high You anchor my kite, then let it fly You were my favorite leaf Private magnificence, for only kids can see Envied by the dandelions you hold First to feel and show the cold You were my favorite seed Transmuting miracles in a dark jubilee Humbly creating with universal intelligence Penetrating strength, broken from love’s maleficence
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Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 12:34 PM UTC
You Were My Favorite Tree
Two floating soap bubbles Swirling in a foggy haze they fumble Gliding quietly they synchronize and lock in orbit Eager skin is tickled before fingers finally forfeit Warm swaying hips close-in leaving no holes Whirlpooling rhythm out and in their control Spontaneous giggles cause they don't mind at all Circling until sopping and just before satisfied Deep swallows engulf; They, Pop! Ahhh, sssllliiddde.
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Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 11:21 AM UTC
Dancing in the Bathtub
That one with the long dress But no glitter can cover her mess Only the pointiest of heels and clavicle To puncture the victims of this cannibal Her chameleon skin fits her whimsy Mean girl musings, her character is flimsy Only stupid, most trusting of men fall for her charm Men I've loved, destined to repeat her harm An Impressionist painting, she's so pretty from afar Close-up, she's the ugliest, most painful part of his memoir
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Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 2:31 PM UTC
She's so ugly
I giggle in pride writing the obvious, the ****** Kindergarten feelings I feel sad, mad, happy, sappy. Rhymezone, songs, and great works stealings Roses are red violets are fine, My poetry could be written by a child as young as nine Punctuation is still a mystery? Ironically, I teach Shakespeare!  I will say, love poems and alcohol do not make good bedfellows Sophomoric mumblings about a sunset's yellow I take solace knowing even Rupi wrote bad poetry sometimes. Yup, I compared myself to Rupi. Also, F**K this last line.
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Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 2:13 PM UTC
This is a bad poem (poet)
I fall in love with broken men. **** tragedies ****** me with sin. Handsome cloaks of invisibility, Obscure and trap in vain utility. Hero and martyr of all your stories, Vengeance sought for selfish glory. Innocents injured from their quarry. I fall in love with broken men. Doors lock me out, keeps keys hidden. Knocking patiently with open arms, Getting too close trigger his alarms. Suspicious eyes peek inside. Skeletons spooked, he runs and hides. Spyglass searches to glimpse vulnerability, Weak boundaries highlight insincerity. Pacifying chit-chat on future home owning   Facing real offer, reveals he lied for a showing. I fall in love with broken men. Eclipses excite those worlds they darken. The moon shines brightest in the night. Warm pulses beat faster, from dusk’s frost bite. Fooled by familiar shadows, say devil I know Not friend but foe, they rob me of my glow. I fall in love broken men. Mosaic glued parts, now misshapen Pirated sea glass left ashore by a hostile. Cut mermaids who seek a love note in a bottle. Shatter lines leak, drips proof of last traumas.     Messy flaws teach wisdom, beauty from drama. I fall in love with broken men. Divorced of dreams and magic forgotten. Shut eyes to memories to keep pain asleep. Nightmares of happy times, disturb the peace. Drugs pacify crying but fears never cease. Haunted by ghost stories of witches and fools, Masks hide his scars, but phantoms are cruel.
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Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 4:38 AM UTC
Loving Broken Men
From age 3 to teen, I only wished to be pretty. No dolls, no ice cream, no fluffy white kitties; Not friendship, straight A's, nor sleep-over fun. I believed beauty was real magic, the only game girls won. Cindy, Belle, and those loved by the Charming, Happy endings awarded to those with looks, most disarming. Cleopatra, Diana, Wonder Woman,  movie stars, Pretty women have power! Pretty women go far! Year after year when they'd turn off the lights “Happy Birthday to you!" my eyes closed tight, A gorgeous future self I imagined in my mind, Repeating my wish, "Please make me look real fine." I'd imagine a model with curls and skin like mine, With ballerina like grace, she would just glide through my mind. Handfuls of white cotton flowers picked with great hope Summer snowflakes carry secrets like my own horoscope "Universe, please make me the world's most fetching sight. Pretty is freedom and comfort; a life full of joy and light." Now all grown-up, my kid dreams I outgrew, Or rather they’ve been voided, because my kid dream came true. I was granted the gift of allure and enchantment, Bringing cycles of men, *** and abandonment. Pursued as an object a thing to own, Seems pretty blocks love, I feel all alone Don't bust out the saddest little violin just yet My pretty is power and privilege I try not to forget This face and body is a meal ticket and a meeting, Like liquor store roses, it’s shallow and fleeting Still I say make that big wish on that star Dreams do come true, though they leave a scar The roadtrip wouldnt be fun without the old car   All magic has madness, worth the risk by far.
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Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 11:39 AM UTC
When I grow up, I want to be pretty.
From age 3 to teen, I only wished to be pretty. No dolls, no ice cream, no fluffy white kitties; Not friendship, straight A's, nor sleep-over fun. I believed beauty was real magic, the only game girls won. Cindy, Belle, and those loved by the Charming, Happy endings awarded to those with looks, most disarming. Cleopatra, Diana, Wonder Woman,  movie stars, Pretty women have power! Pretty women go far! Year after year when they'd turn off the lights “Happy Birthday to you!" my eyes closed tight, A gorgeous future self I imagined in my mind, Repeating my wish, "Please make me look real fine." I'd imagine a model with curls and skin like mine, With ballerina like grace, she would just glide through my mind. Handfuls of white cotton flowers picked with great hope Summer snowflakes carry secrets like my own horoscope "Universe, please make me the world's most fetching sight. Pretty is freedom and comfort; a life full of joy and light." Now all grown-up, my kid dreams I outgrew, Or rather they’ve been voided, because my kid dream came true. I was granted the gift of allure and enchantment, Bringing cycles of men, *** and abandonment. Pursued as an object a thing to own, Seems pretty blocks love, I feel all alone Don't bust out the saddest little violin just yet My pretty is power and privilege I try not to forget This face and body is a meal ticket and a meeting, Like liquor store roses, it’s shallow and fleeting Still I say make that big wish on that star Dreams do come true, though they leave a scar The roadtrip wouldnt be fun without the old car   All magic has madness, worth the risk by far.
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My friends and I are having a ball. We are dancing and chancing and decking the hall. I'm so busy, I have no time to fall. I'm not lonely. You're lonely. I don't miss you at all. My friends and I are carefree with glee. We joke and we choke on the best hydro green. I'm laughing so hard I may even *** I'm not crying. You're crying These tears are happy.   My friends and I are coquets, so flirty. We use a*holes and leave them right after coffee. I don't want your commitment; I just want to be free. I don't love you. You love you. Do you still love me?
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Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 5:10 AM UTC
I'm not lonely.....You're lonely.
Juicy milky coconut meat Ripe strawberry skins dipped in ice water Feminine wildflowers from fields out West Blend harmoniously with proper English rose Blushing honeysuckle petals Sunny daffodils Silly golden sunflowers, even if just for the hue The fiery dragon flowers breathe the base of Warm African vanilla Faithful background notes of wine and tobacco Finished with a melody of Decadent milk chocolate Freshly crushed coffee beans And the scent of you. What I smell like when I’m falling in love.
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Sep 12, 2019
Sep 12, 2019 at 2:27 AM UTC
2. Fragrant Memories