Hello Poetry.com is platform of all poets to show ideas and imaginations.
It creates and generates new poets with talent hunts.
From World wide country with wide thoughts of  range from different minds.
Giving different opinions to each other and giving admirable reviews to each  other's poem.
By sharing emotions and ideas they show there feelings impressively.
Every poet have distinct features,thoughts,ideas and presentation in their poem.
At last not least shows goes on and on, but it never ends it remains forever.

College dreamers,
trust fund seams broken down
like veins after repetitive prods.
Drinking days
are alliteration accented
because two
dollar drinks deserve denotation.

A hangover that brings
clarity is irony;
a sad realization made
after a night of excess.
A drop of vulnerability
and personal accountability
is desperation, and preference
at this point is permissible,
yet premature.

Face buried, between the sheets, wrapped in legs and lust,
books thrown against a wall.
Classes are dropped faster
than broken furniture
and one night stands.
And **** the taste.
We're all chasing that last sip
that brings a confidence
to think rhythmically.

How silly is the little flower
to think that it has such a large impact
on anyone's life.
It's as if it says
"I know I am just a flower
and it's well past the hour
but you picked me from the rest
so I must be the best.
So when I leave,
don't forget me please."

But it's just a little flower
that was chosen for no other reason
than to bring a little bit of happiness.
Yet the flower still speaks,
"I don't understand what you understand
but I know that I am not anything grand.
But it was me that you chose.
You watered me with the hose
and I have grown to be old
but now everything I feel is cold."

Poor little flower,
how long have you been here?
Shivering and shriviling.
But bless your soul you still speak.
"I know some time has passed
since I saw you last.
But I remember your sad smile
and how you had to sit down for awhile.
Your thin white hair has become flat
and I no longer see you sit where you sat."

That small, old flower,
drooped one last time.
With one last sigh
the flower picker spoke.
"I'm sorry little flower
it is well past my hour
and you're as thin as my hair
that has become so brittle without care.
But don't you worry
he is coming in a hurry
and I will not forget you
if you will forget-me-not, too."

Can we keep you innocent, my child...
Wrap you up and never let another hand touch you.
Keep you wholesome forever and always see a smile on your face.

Can I keep you this big forever...
Listen to your giggles and hear your tapping feet on my floors for as long as I live.
Feel your little hands and feet wrestle with me every night before your big beautiful eyes close to welcome another day.

Can we stay this close to one another...
You depend on me to always take care of you and be there for you, as I depend on you to fill my life with joy. You give me purpose.