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Nana Alli Apr 4
I don't hate you
Nor love you
I just want to  feel loved
Would you be my rebound?

Let's make out
Roll around in our sweat,
Passionately examine each other's body,
Sharing no emotions.
Would you be my rebound?

Get me gifts,
Shower me love,
Make me your numero uno,
So, I asked would you be mine?
My rebound replied " we are just friends"

My rebound cheated me
I am my rebound's rebound,
I fell in love with my rebound,
My rebound is betroth,
He left me like my love did.
Now, I need a rebound for my rebound.
Would you be my new rebound?

#Nalliwrites
#thinkinginwords
©Nalli
Rachel White Jan 2017
Please do not call yourself a rebound.
A rebound is a disgusting sound that screams out after a breakup,
It’s a call for attention to the heartbreak.
You were not that.
You were the first full breath of fresh air after running a marathon.
You were a resurrection, an awakening.
Yes, I was fragile.
Yes, I was vulnerable.
But you did not take advantage of me.
Your touch didn’t take me from my body,
It grounded me.
Your mouth did not shrink me down,
It allowed the confidence to bloom inside of me.
With you,
I saw my five foot frame grow to heights I never imagined reaching.
With you,
I was not a hollowed out shell of a love that used to exist.
With you,
I was a human who owned their body,
Who could fight wars with her words,
Who could live forever.
So, please, do not call yourself a rebound,
Because a rebound does not bring comfort,
A rebound does not bring light,
A rebound does not bring growth,
But you,
You do.
Because I slept with a boy I shouldn't have, and I saw the way he looked at himself after.
Lawrence Hall Apr 2019
Rebound!

I don’t understand basketball at all
Women and men run around in funny clothes
Yelling a lot while keeping a basketball
From each other in a shoe-slapping gym

Rebound!

And they yell “REBOUND!” more than anything else
And I hear each “REBOUND!” echoing about
And shoes slide-squeaking on the wooden floor
And I have no idea what any of it means

Rebound!

I only know that roundballers are tall

Beyond that

I don’t understand basketball at all

Rebound!
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
He was fun
But not the ONE
His lies made everything come undone
It is OK, I will be fine
It was too soon for a relationship
However it sure was Rebound time
He was fun, we had a blast
But the time for that is OVER
Now I can be free at last~
I know I am lovable, touchable and funny as hell
So dwelling on not being good enough is gone as well
I enjoyed my rebound guy
..I have already said goodbye...
Rebound down...
I cannot lie..he were my rebound
Had he not lied to me so much oh the relationship we could have had
So long rebound..so long Chad
Donielle  Apr 2017
Rebound
Donielle Apr 2017
Rebound.
Lead him with a leash,
drag him along like the dog that has died
but you won't give up your walk.
Rebound.
You took your shot at the love
but you missed,
now you think you can give it another try.
Rebound.
Bounce back in like there's no penalty,
like hearts don't break,
as if you can simply tape it back together
and it will continue beating.
Rebound.
Just because you don't have a scoreboard in life
doesn't mean the points don't count.
Rebound.
When everything is tallied up
at the end of the day,
will you really come out on top
like you hope?
Eli H  May 2014
Rebound
Eli H May 2014
You look like my next rebound,
Wanna kiss?
Maybe its the way your eyes twinkle,
Or the way your smile is like his.

Less words, more skin,
Have I told you of his laugh?
Drown myself in alcohol,
The mess he left, wasn't enough.

Sign my body with your teeth,
Try to wash away his smell,
I knew love was a trap,
On him let's not dwell.

Finger my brain,
Oh you've got his hair,
More alcohol, less pain,
And I whisper "I don't care."

Strip me bare,
My walls are down,
Touch me roughly,
Make me frown.

You look like my next rebound... Wanna kiss?
Autumn May 2014
Man has been gifted a great prize
Although they never assumed it would be their demise
Centuries ago the technology produced
Relied upon humans for a little boost
However now it seems every thought by a man
Requires for technology to come up with the plan
It seems man's intelligence has began to backtrack
Similar to being subdued in a flashback
All the knowledge they've acquired
Is something that cannot not be admired
Their lives are corrupted by the media
They get information from the Internet- not by encyclopedia
There is still a chance for them to turn it all around
And use these faults to help with the rebound
However if they continue on as shown
Their advancements will soon be marked with a headstone.
Nicole Dawn  May 2015
Basketball
Nicole Dawn May 2015
Bouncing
An orange ball
Repeatedly against the floor.

Fake left.
Run right.
Pass.
Reverse.
Shoot.
Miss.
Rebound.
Repeat.

We must all be mad,
For we are doing
The same thing,
Over and over again,
And expecting a different result.

Lose the ball.
Run down the court.
Fast break.
Sprint.
Shot blocked.
Run back.

We run ourselves
Out.
To put a
Big orange ball
In a small white net.
And love every minute of it.

Back on offense.
Call the play.
Set a pick.
Roll to the basket.
Get the ball.
Shoot.
Get a point.

I don't know
What I would do
Without this madness
This again and again
This over and over

It may be mad,
But it makes me happy.
Basketball is my favorite sport
Why can't they see me?
See past the pretty hair, cute face, long legs and thin waist.
They don't see me.
Rebound is what I'm made out to be.
They come falling back into my arms, heart big and warm.
I catch them.
I'm not to sure why I do, but the is heart worn, not at all new.
So why am I the rebound girl when there's so much I have to offer?
Smarts, talent and skin that's much softer.
I stand here questioning myself, but it ends with laughter.
I answer myself quite a bit faster...."It's not me, it's them"
All they really need is a friend.
Have I tried and tried to be there, and they still don't care.
Why? Because they don't see me.
Kyle Andree Ore Sep 2013
Today’s generation breathes on superficiality. Always looking for someone who will make them feel good and look better, like a trophy they carry around. People are going crazy over a buff physique and luscious curves never knowing the real person behind the costume. Mind you, I am into looking good and am a love handle-hating man with a highly elusive six-pack abs but being superficial is just not what I was taught growing up. I was taught to look for substance and not just the stance. Know what I mean? What will you do after you got bored with her? After you’re through with her? You have nothing in common. What will you talk about? You just went after her to make you’re friends jealous, to make your status as a ladies man more credible, to make you look like a demigod and makes you more popular than before. All of these are false judgments about being with someone. There’s less love around my love handles now but character still matters to me. There are bad apples that we, Adams, shouldn’t be tempted, like the girls our mother warned us about. Like the woman who has more degree than a thermometer, not only bilingual but travelled the globe more than a stewardess. I’m not saying that they’re a no-no but they’re on the major league while you are on the little league. They will step on your ego like an elephants stampede and breathe life out your senses. My point is, be realistic. Get to know the person. Know what she wants. Know that women aren’t born with titanium-based sense of confidence and that insecurity will creep in her system. You know the classic: Am I getting fat? Is she hotter than me? Do I look old? You know how it goes. Insecurity has moved with time and even the modern woman remains vulnerable. Easy on the emotions ‘coz when it comes to sensitivity they’re the warden in this joint. So do your homework. She may be the world’s most desired model, capable of reaching a Ferrari’s top speed but she still needs assurance. Sometimes. Occasionally. Periodically. Always. Know that and you’ll be rewarded. Appreciate her. In any size or shape, spell it in front of her. Make literal or mental notes of the big and small deals in her life. And love the princess. Naturally. Stir, simmer and serve it steaming hot. Be patient. Watch her play. Laugh. Cry. See her at her worse. Take time to see her with her friends and family. These are the people she is most comfortable with and will make her act naturally. Don’t jump hastily into a relationship even if it’s the most logical thing to do. Prefer to be comfortable with each other idiosyncrasies included. Heed my word as your guide to a better you and a more blissful relationship, just in case. This will save you from heartaches and depression. And you will not end up seeing someone pull out the yellow card in the relationship and you won’t be making that 2 AM text messages and more importantly the 3AM breakdown.

Rushing in is like passing a busy intersection. You might escape some speeding junkies but you can’t dodge the midnight meat train when it marks you. You’ll end up on the pavement licking your wounds and wishing God will give you a second chance. When we let our emotions decide for us we might as well be a puppet. When we affiliate our need to be with someone with lust, which is insatiable, we will become uncontented. The process leading to forging an actual relationship with someone you were initially attracted to has changed dramatically. The days of long and winding courtship where we woe our object of adoration is gone. Today being intimate don’t apply to couples anymore. The pleasures of carnality are taking the world over and our concept of love is being shaped by ******* bunnies. The line separating love and lust is getting distorted and thinner. No wonder labels such as FuBu, FWB, PP (Pleasure Pal) and Rebound have gained pop culture concurrence. They simply mean consenting bedfellows who contend themselves that there is no ocean of difference between couplehood and ****** friendship besides the scope of emotions involved. Friends can. Especially when, lately, people have become savvy to the idea that *** does not ruin the relationship, which is now rendered all but platonic in an entirely emotional sense. There will be those who disagree and will protest but its making things more audible, making the idea spread like virus. The concept of a FuBu, FWB, PP or whatever you call it is inevitable for a variety of reasons. For starters lets say old school values have been exposed to be total fronting, hypocritical billboard signs of secretly debauched Puritans. Some just start on a harmless get together, a few chitchats, ***** and more *****. And when the night is over and it’s time to go home, some take detours and most of it leads to bed. An exception is on the rebound - dumper-dumpee. Rebound is trying to get back at your dumper, making them jealous or guilty. This involves an innocent victim who’ll fall in the trap of being played on. Believe me, you don’t want to be at the end of the rope. The emotion that comes with the need to be with someone is totally deceiving. Even if you and your date have gone out a few times (even slept every time you see each other) but neither one has confirmed that you are indeed dating, then don’t assume or you’ll suffer the embarrassment of your dating status being denied.

Relationships have drastically changed and this wave of change will press on, as the players get more adept at playing the cards dealt them. And even if the rules of the game have changed dramatically to allow certain breaches on morality, people have to be more cautious in making decisions pertaining to relationships. Never bite off more than you can chew. Or you can kiss your **** goodbye.
Shofi Ahmed Nov 2018
The hallowed turf is a six seasonal
always one step ahead on Earth.
So exceptional a land is out of the box
acutely drawn down the Moon
and sublimely unique is written in stone!

A patch of land every star loves to touch
so much so the Mintaka know they can mirror
the pyramid on the surface of the earth
but not the tucked away zenana here
the planetary gem, the earth's gold dust:
Matches the lead Prophet's birthplace!

Open and globular star clusters
up above the mundane Himalayas peak look
diagonally into Sylhet down the Meghalaya stardust
eying on for a shortcut to Earth's gold dust
that only gushes out elixirs Abe Hayat.

Lovely sought after by the water nymphs
that won't tarry scurrying to the waterfront of paradise
in Ma, the space between, while the waxing moon
takes a waning pause only to roll down and croon
in deep tranquil, thaws the midnight moonlit blue pond
amidst silhouetted bamboos, the sun after a night pause,
there it blooms once more bathing in in the morn!

Boarding in such a serendipitous moment, they dream,
carried out just these hidden elixirs in their pitchers
before Queen Fathima The Queen of Heaven.
Perfectly spherical she zeroes in the cosmic loop
and spills in the open sea one more colourless scoop
without a pinch of salt there the sunrise and set troupe
pause and lay in once again the most colourful swoop.

Up above heaven's Saal Saabila River
on the empyrean Moon, she hops on one foot
and down the evergreen Earth's spring dips a toe
without a shadow without a footprint, tone on tone
ties both worlds forever in bloom!

Blow the wrap off, score a preserved geometry
somewhere in Sylhet, even the Hebrew King David here
would offer his thousand and one melodic symposium
and King Solomon princely his whole affluent shebang.
'Cause the prevailing sun from heaven this time
could roll down on a palm simply like a handful of earth!

Oh, what will it land in Sylhet, the pearl of the earthy depth?
Art in light, the spark from the Earth's foundation stone?
Eyes gaze on so firm like the solid sky yet surge like kite
in the air looking here over a truly pristine drop of water
with the ocean is inside until it shows up down the blue sky
though rainbows oft pop out tantalising every looking eye!

The fairy that ascends then is a stealer no hand can touch
seven colours shine on a patch of blue null to touch
took on a meaning for Sylhet in a handful of earth
matching the soil of Makkah the centre of the Earth
the birthplace of the lead prophet Muhammad (PBUH)!
One who is in the know hops on the foundation stone
and rose to heaven in the Night of Ascension.

How a regular soil mirrors the very pivotal one?
The labyrinth is out of this world, relates to Queen Maab
let alone a native maestro that no genie can describe!
Every atom loves to discover the meaning of that
it knows the constant vibrations of the never-ending dance
keeping it on its toe the choreography comes from outside.
The feet are most polished and motions are butterfly dance,
still the canvas is blank, light one more candlelight!

Light a candle in Sylhet I wonder here the moonlight
spills through even into an atom's black canvas and the sun
lovely drops down on a handful of earth on the flipside!
Meet here the open future shows up at the Earth's hub
the moon's anew rallying to the untouching-sea
the Indian subcontinent's corner to the ancient wind!

Go with the southern breeze on play with the sun
here it colours the wind, gives it its Midas touch
and strikes a deal to part a silhouetted cloud.  
That a beauty spot raises the eyebrows of the day on a high,
on the shining face of the golden Bangla in broad daylight!

Hark the morning birds, follow singing deep in the midst
mellifluous-shrills fill the air unveiling the dream scenes!
Ah, the deep footed earth how mystique,
every morning the sun off the heaven's hill
lays in a new diaphanous gold-light-rug beneath it,
only to loose its colours in a colourless magic
let alone painting its footprint!

Every time is new numerates the bounties of our land
craving to sip in a dew-potion on our blossoming rose
cirrus clouds dancing over the seas here they drop
banish the midday blues singing the deep sea's song!

Nestled amidst the Rivers Surma, Kushiara and Monu
perched on the shades of the trees, each one is a canvas.
Returning melodic birds crescendo by the downstream  
hail from the autumnal breeze on the upstream.
Six seasons rebound alike leap and swing on the trees
unpacking their intricate and mesmeric fluid designs
often make a meal of the obvious and work of art alike!

Stunned angels on their way heaven taking one more sunset
potted in the starry bowl look back at the wee hours.
They can hear pianissimo on this preserved perennial land
it never falls asleep is awake with the perfectly round
a circle of 360 spiritual dynamos keep an ear on the ground.    
A deep-seated truth, rock-solid Shilahatta in Sanskrit
clothed in an enduring vesture minted Sylhet loops in
with the Hebrew Bible's Shalet, a ruler, a shield!  

A little drop makes the mighty ocean
like with one single word on the lips,
the maestros' great epics begin to be told.
Just with a mundane handful of earth
pristine Sylhet's masterpiece begins to unfold.
With the whole ball of wax keeping us onboard
lo, before the face of the Earth, it unveils the mirror!
With the whole nine yards on her least hold
believe it or not, Sylhet is cherry-picked chosen by God!
The subject matter is about a land possessing a deeply seeded truth. The prime significance of which is it's scattered afar and matches the pivotal soil of the centre of the earth!
Kyle C Spooner Jun 2013
Emptiness consumes me, my mind racing
Longing for days worth retracing

Happiness evicted, sadness rebound

You gave me hope for my future.

The days continue, I continue to think,

Happiness Evicted, pain rebound

You left me alone to myself, creating a gap in my heart
Day by day, my Anger increases

Happiness evicted, Fury rebound

You struck me hard, gave me all then removed it
Looking back on you, I see you're a waste,
Leaving pain,fury, and sadness in your wake.

You forced me out, forced me to adapt

**Happiness Evicted, Hope Rebound

— The End —