I think I might blink with a sarcastic tone

The boy is shamelessly magic

I'm gonna wave my freak flag high
Right until the day I die
I'll be dancing in the nursing home
Probably clothed
And likely alone
But I'll be keeping to my groove
And get those old geezers to move

Taking all of your problems
Multiplying them exponentially
And nailing them to the backs
Of everyone who cares about you
To be carried forever

Everywhere I go
There he is
Smiling all the time
If only I didn't meet him
Too late to make him mine

It can't be only me coming across these creeps!
(Please see ***** commenter guy in poem previously shared)

Dear DeShane
My hero knight
The best in all the world
Who makes his poor sick mother
Into the luckiest girl

(Thank you for taking such good care of me, and I'm so sorry that you have to.  I promise to be a really great nana.  I guess that's the best I can do for you now)

Great Poem!
Hey check out my poem!  (which probably has nothing in common with your poem, which I didn't actually read)  Here's the link!

I describe him as
A giftly person
He leaves gifts around
Most often
Invisible
Wherever he goes
He's a gift
In and of himself
And he has no idea
How precious he is

Sometimes
You feel you are being buried
When you are simply being planted

Never trust a man who tells you he has never measured his *****

My reaction is to your poem
The poem I am reacting to
Before leaving a comment
I'm not gonna read
All your other poems
To know what kind of person you are
Your reaction to my reaction is unreasonable

Where you at, Boo
How do you not feel me calling for you
All the inferences that we drew
Answer the call, make me brand new
If only you figure out
That you are you

I can't believe you people are making me defend
This *******
Donald Trump is in no way responsible for any shooting
You're blaming him
We should be blaming us
We're the demented society
That makes people feel so
Angry and powerless
They make a hold at a twisted branch
On a futile climb
Up a crooked tree
And we stand around watching
Pretending to ignore
Like the scene is invisible
We are just as responsible for this
As any politician

I am such a baddass
I could list
My reasons
But girls would get ******

Beware to females
Who commit the heinous crime
Of  admitting they like themselves

Probably

He turned our conversation into poetry for me.  
Wrote me back my words
So beautifully
I wondered if that's how he saw me
He gives me too much credit

He's Mister Right on Time
Who always has a perfect line
It's nice to blush
Sometimes

You're out
Licking the donut glaze off your fingertips
There are the guys who turn you on, because they are watching
There are the guys who's gaze makes you cringe
It has little to do with appearance
It's in their way
If only we could explain the way to guys

He always shows up right when you start missing him

Some people define poems by length
Or....jeeesch,
Everyone has their own definition
Poetry, is something I learned from, grew from,
Or identified with
Whether it was one line
Or twelve pages
Written in the poet's own
Unique language
That's poetry, to me
Though I've seen clever be poetic, too.  I suppose clever is something we all learn from, which is, of course, poetic

What did you get from that,
I wonder
When I can see you got something

Why care if you can look pretty if you can be beautiful.

I think I might be a ****.  
I wish we had a clubhouse.

I always get nervous whenever I hear the words, "I'm gonna make an exception, for you."

There is no such thing as
A Valentine
There are only Valentines
Some of us are blessed
With Valentines
Through the ages
Most of us
Are not
(But that's all *******. I've seen "a Valentine," and so have you, but they are very rare.

Hey, that's the way it worked out.

My definition of what it means to be "human.:" :The ability to laugh at myself.

I should have said Bad ***

I just laughed at myself so bad, my stomach hurt.

Not because of the humane chicken thing....just wanna clarify.

Being human means viewing the way we all knowingly treat chickens and hens as "humane"

In Cape Cod
We have the Wampanoag tribe
You can see they're so
Bad-***
Because they survived

Your mind is beautiful
Twisted
But honest
And reluctantly romantic
But romantic
Nonetheless
All the more romantic
Because I can tell it pains you
To be so
But I can also tell
You will do all you can
To avoid paining me

He loves falling in love
More than being in love
And that's why he broke your heart
But you saw it coming
You broke your heart, too

You are rather beautiful
I heard him say
I hope she didn't take that as a compliment

He knows
I know
He's thinkin'
I know
He knows
I'm thinkin', too

I'm a sucker for the term "bed head"
Whenever I get too close to someone, I stress over how my breath smells
Some people who know me find me annoying
I eat way too much junk food, and don't really gain weight (which is enough to make some people not like me)
I'm a total, out and out, non-apologetic flirt
I am a "know it all"
And sarcastic
(And that's about as much thought as I'm going to put into it)

Talking just to talk
I can't explain it
Really
Saying the same thing
People say every day
Without doing it in a different way
Most of what I say is white noise

"It came through me
Not from me"

At least, it's how I feel, but I think the public (us) agrees.  Please do not send me a private message, telling me about what you thought about my comment on your poem, without even telling me which poem you are talking about.  I'm not keeping a personal log of comments.

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Aha!  Made ya look!

I see people say
Sometimes
"Congratulations on the daily"
Can somebody please tell me what "The daily" is?

I'm so petty
And unpretty
When someone has been rude
And leaves their poem here
In the ****
I can't help but be a little siked
If it doesn't get liked

A knight in shining armor
Is just some amateur
Who has never had his metal tested

I am the ******* who doesn't want to have to tell you what to do
I expect you to already know what I want

I suppose the worst part
About being a wise-***
Is that unwise people
Get ****** at your jokes

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Jumping on the bandwagon
Why don't you come too?

My son, Skye, and I were discussing about how he sometimes says things without thinking. (He's 18, a product of his age)
He says to me, "mum, it's just that I speak less than I talk."

There are few sights
More miserable
And forlorn
Than the kid
Who has just failed his
Driver's test

He's attractive to me
A mystery
I can't tell if he's
A good guy trying to be bad
Or a bad guy
Trying to be good