He's weird
I love that
But sometimes
I wanna smack him across the face
He likes it
When I wanna smack him across
The face
His favorite sport is "Krista Eye Rolling"
Extra points if he can get them uphill
But the attention is so cute.    , And thoughtful
Albeit, a little gross
He's an oxymoron
Itchy wool, weaved through soft silk
Grossly Cute, softly Uncomfortable, and sticky sweet

We had the stone age
The iron age
The bronze age
And the oil age

I remember
After my daughter died
I had the incredible need
To beleive there was a Heaven
Twenty years later
I have accepted
There is no Heaven
And this life is
Gift enough from God
I expect nothing more from Him
God owes me no Heaven
And I still worship Him
If there is a Heaven
This attitude will probably
Get me in

Thank you for inviting us all
To your pity party
Although the decor is intriguing
This place is not for me
Wipe the tears from your eyes
Then maybe you can see
No one wants an invite
To a pity party

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

If a man tells you
He loves you
And you didn't know it
Already
He is not telling
The truth

In at least 50 percent, the notes are just as beautiful as the poem.

My first kiss
Was with a boy named
Rainbow Gribbon
We were sitting atop a roof
Of a house shaped like a mushroom
In Provincetown
It was probably 40 years ago
But I bet he remembers it
Too

I'm hoping I'm not
The type of poet
Who will be thoroughly
Appreciated
After I'm dead
It would be just my luck
To be famous
Posthumously
All my poems
Shared for free
No money
For my family
That seems to be
The luck of me

I would guesstimate
At least half of
All sunburns
Are totally worth it

She was a mirror
In human form
Hated by most
Loved by many

He's a really short guy
With a huge *****
A surprise to all who see
Here's this tiny man
And his ****
Hung right down to his knee

When I was maybe 12
Or 13
I started stealing money from
Nana' s pocketbook
Or "my bag"
As she would call it
One day
We were in her bedroom
And she went into her bag
And I could tell
She noticed the money missing
She didn't accuse me of
Stealing it
She just started chasing me
Around the bed
She was muttering under her breath
Which she was almost out of
And near tears
Since that moment
I have never stolen
A thing
Not one thing
I hope I remembered to tell her that
When I grew up

On the carton
Of my Newman's Own
It says
"Pink ****** Lemonade"
What a heartless *******
Newman must be
Not even allowing
Those poor pink lemons
To get laid
At least once
Before he squeezes
Out their
Lemon life

That's the answer to the question I asked that I can't find anymore
The distance between Earth and Mars

I'm the girl who tells you
What you don't want to hear
Hate me, if you want
Your problem is very clear
If my words get you all caught up in a snit
****** *******! Stop doing stupid ****!

I'm a minimalist poet
Without pantomime
Or a suit of any kind
Other than sweat
Sometimes I'm tie dye
Sometimes I'm rainbow
But I'm usually colorful
I'm honestly rude
Rudely honest
And often annoying.

Mother Nature
Best Chef in the world
Every Apple
Perfectly done
Every orange, peach, or pear
Raspberries, strawberries
Perfection itself
No other chef
Can be quite as good
As Nature, Herself
And Her Motherhood

Blue boy
Got me burning
Red hot
He is my purple

I don't know the answers to all the big questions
Some, I don't even want to
I am accepting that worse case scenario
Doesn't happen after death
My death, anyways
I have accepted that death is simply death
THE END
I am still thankful
And I try to leave something good
Behind
It is not who is who is front
But who comes behind
As I come behind
My Grandparents
They deserve to lead a good
Team
And through that
They are alive

Dear kids
When your tooth falls out
Put it under your pillow
Because this magic stranger
Will sneak into your bedroom
Reach an arm
Right under where
You are laying your head
And leave you a
Nice surprise
Oh
And at Christmas
Let's go and sit
Right
On the lap of this creepy
Oddly dressed
Old man
Who Will sneak into your house
During the night

Poetry is the art of taking a universal feeling, and making it personal to each individual.

I think he wrote me a poem
Though he won't tell me so
But it hit me like a warm spring breeze
I think he wrote that poem for me

Sometimes
When a person is talking about how they are absolutely  
Not racist
Well
They're just so **** racist about it

Seriously
Could they have possibly come up with a less appealing title
For a pap smear?

I have actually fallen in love with a boy
On account of his playlist

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 wonder if you get to wear your breast augmentation in Heaven?

All these mental health issues
Invading all our teens
Gender no longer known
By through what you ***
(Could it really be that simple?)
Everyone's got an acronym
Placed upon their chart
A laundry list of drugs
In the pharmacy cart
It used to be when life
Pelted us with rocks
We all went about it
Taking the hard knocks

If you prop yourself up by bringing others down, you have built your house upon a sinkhole.

We poets are such fakers
We're always talking
Writing
By picking up the
"Ink and quill"
Not a one of us
Has written with a quill
Or even ink
Unless it's in our
Printer

Nobody can break your heart without your consent.  
Blame is always a two way street

It's really not fair
My interest in you
Solely based on the fact
You're a poor
But occasionally on target
Reminder
Of someone
I used to know
I'm not looking for you
I'm looking for a memory of
Someone I wish you could be

We're not here to ease your bones
Or lull to sleep your weary souls
We're here to shake you til you crack
Send you down to Hell and back
If of this site you have no use
You're looking for ol' Doctor Seusse

If you rip something apart
You put it together
Apart
If you want to be a part of something
You put it separate
A part

If you ever want a good laugh
Sit next to a toddler who sees breastfeeding for the first time
And then, try explain it to him
Guaranteed for a laugh

Luckily I do not need to be put back together
Before I learn to fly

Pretty much says it all

He intentionally waits to respond to her messages
So she won't know he's hanging on every word

How many lies
Does it take
Before you stop believing
That lover
Who lies to you
All the time
You keep blaming the lover
For lying to you
It's a twisted
Guilt game
Y'all got going
But darlin'
You playing it
Too

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

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

Ever have one of those days
When it feels like
Your teeth are wearing a
Sweater
Even after you've brushed them
More than once

Let's face it
Canada is notable
Because of maple syrup
And how amazingly
Resilient and
Kick-***
It's indigenous peoples
Are

Please
Do not cry to me
About how your man
Cheated on you
For the twenty seventh
Time

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

Earlier today,
I heard Stevie Nicks singing Rhiannon
I was blown away by the lyrics
And thought
My God; I gotta share This!
So I looked them up
None of them really stood out
I realized the poetry was not in the words
But in the way she sang them
(Insert something poignant.)

"Deep Thought"  has blocked me
For one comment
Apparently
"Deep Thought"
Is pretty shallow
And can't handle "Different Thought"

I don't have any more room in my heart
Mine is already full
But if you agree to cover your eyes
I will provide the wool.

It wasn't only that Emmett Till
Made the kiss face to the
White girl
It was that he was
So **** fine
She liked it