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Annie Oct 4
Still here,

I stand over the girl from my past.

My shadow is a mass, but I am Liberty,
in her stance,
in her strength,
in the sunlight.

Twice struck,
second one has stuck
in deep,
enough to blur the world around me-
around him.

Never mind the darker hours
 (they aren’t important);
what is crucial, is the breath in my lungs.
The fourth poem in my annual series of poems I write for my birthday.
To hell
Right now
Wonder Berry Aug 14
Heres to twenty one
Not yet a quarter
Two dimes and a penny.
Last night I cried two times over some henny.
It's okay though I just started but I guess I'll start over.

Heres to twenty one.
To a life well lived, sober, and full of experiences.
Learning to let go of the past.
Forgetting the should haves & shouldnots like the clerance shirts you just bought because its back to school season.
To not be like the California summer. Clingy to the golden age holding on to late mother September.
To be open to the fall.
To be strong when I fall.
To love the winter and walk over frozen lakes  once drowned in.
To love where I have been and seek where I haven't.
Embrace the seasonal life.
Here you wear satin and feel beautiful. Rich in passion.
Never ashamed for the life that happened or is happening.

Heres to twenty one.
Not yet a quarter
Two dimes and a penny.
Twenty one is just happiness and some change.
Seanathon Aug 7
You — And your quiet glow — Make me feel like a serene ripple. Like a blessed wish on a prior day.

You — And all that every human eye has seen — Scatter rippling white lights, all across this distant horizon of me.

May the shadow of the this glorious moon fall gently on a world of peace.
city of flips Jul 15
for the ladies who liquid lunch


the finest young women of the wild west,
(the best of course just might be in Texas)
don’t always get educated in the things best,
no private schools, so somethings sometimes,
like the upscale training of the taste buds,
must be learned on the job, training the palate,
by growing up, self+taught, thank god, yes!


your salty taste
reminds me of ruffled potato chips, bugles, beef jerky
your very own brand of
loving tears

it’s true you know,
impossible to eat
just one, which is
why my tonguing
of your body parts,
is unceasingly seizing

I will always be found
attached unbreakably,
to your moving image,
moving inside of me

so sweet your salt,
it’s your story,
your flavored lives living on
in poems unnamed, to disguise
but the authorship of whom,
in body, in mind, so obvious,
cause in all your poems is a tangy

impossible to eat just one

p.s. you tease me mean,

bbq and béarnaise,
sassafras and edible petals,
molasses and kosher salt,
ingredient combination
which of course
you just made up,
so I show my appreciation
biting your arm so my permanent
teeth marks,
will remind me,
and you too,
just how salty
biting Texas heifers who
can or cannot be salt cured
it’s their turn to write some
real good tasting


back for more already?

Staring into the flames
I see twenty-one candles
I never thought I’d see.
and when the song is over
I seem to have disregarded my only wish

There’s chaos inside of me
My heart is dancing
My lungs are singing
Every nerve is so electric
Because my broken brain has been defeated

We never thought we would make it this long.
Are My
I'm writing a small poem every day about how I feel or the world around me. This is #21
Liz Feb 17
I turn 21

that should be fun

I turn 21

yet i find it hard to act on

I turn 21

feel like it's gonna be a bad one

I turn 21

don't know what to become

I turn 21

to overcome

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