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katie Dec 2020
pieces starting to fall into place,
i no longer worry about saving face
i thought i had escaped loneliness back then,
but now i realized that it was nowhere near the end

a blank canvas enters the scene,
a slate furthermore wiped clean
i cannot say i’m moving forward with no trepidation,
but i’m positive that i no longer hold any reservations
happy birthday to me 🎂
Sammie Sep 2020
I know what it is
that keeps you up all night
C'mon now trust me
Hold on to your spirits tight!
This year was to let go of things
that hurt like a tightened rope
So that you could finally feel the touch
of your rejuvenated hope!
To embrace your new self
with utmost compassion
Give all those dreams
your wings of passion!!
All by yourselves you have
grown out the pain
And now you have lessons,stories
and way too many experiences to gain!!
A little bit of tears still
accompany buckets of laughter
(Cause baby, from here I see you)
With patience, belief and magic
You now live your "happily ever after"!
Everyday she falls in love with herself!
Oh hell yes! In her story
She is the chipmunk and she is the elf!
Druzzayne Rika Jul 2020
One more year ends,
Counting few others.

This is the time
of the blown out candles,
Unaired balloon,
No whipped cream,
And non received postcards.

The closed restaurants,
And unreachable phone lines,
and boredom filled eyes.

It is the time of truth
Looking into my lines,
I have seen many years now,
Never seen times like this.

A very happy birthday to me.
onlylovepoetry Apr 2017
Sunday morning lie-in,
she, ny times newspaper reading,
contentedly dress perusing-shopping,
in the bed both, but separated
by the distance of the electronic void

i am raven tapping poe poems on my diminutive IPhone,
twenty four inches distant from her lips

no notice taken of the man so overcome
writing his Sunday morn poems that are
drawn so deep from places
that make him so so so glad
good quality weeping
can be best performed silently

noticing that

- he writes best when writing of others, mostly, you

- he writes when the rented invisibility cloak covers his face
the wellspring offers him a choice;
write weep and tear
write weep and bawl
or just quit everything

whimsy laughs at his slo 'mo nonsense
his choices
this tough guy supporting a mountain of others,
the inversion of his inverted triangle,
him holding up the world

the worrisome grief that wears him down
best released in tears when writing about
you, go figger

and you notice stupid stuff
like why we use 'and' when it just ain't necesssry
how the core of 'believe' is lie
that ** ** ** rhymes with woe woe woe
that 24 inches is quite the distance when you are
** ** ** weeping and she don't notice

and how hard writing

only love poetry can be
even twenty four inches
from your nose
Amanda Kay Burke May 2020
It is hard to believe I am 24
Where have years all gone?
I've tried and tried to stop time
Hours continue ticking on
This short life is precious
Existence goes to waste
All the good this world offers
I have had only but a taste
I love watching every sunset
Hate what they all mean
Wish I was still young
Thinking what could've been
Always stuck in the could-haves
letters to basil Apr 2020
dear quinn,


shamamama Feb 2020
what i love about poetry

poetry doesn't talk
or converse

it yells, screams
simmers, caresses
electrifies, vivifies
soars, carries, raps
pampers, wraps
dreams, dances
laments, soothes
embraces, catapoults
the truth, the
zoetic gold
of the heart

even if tainted, alloyed,
buried, misshapen,
melted, newly formed

the gold,
if you dare

read it,
if you dare

wear it
unveils the
24 karat
jewelry of the
human heart
thank you HP
Mark Toney Oct 2019
24 begins with its cruel rule:
"No sustenance or quenching of thirst
until the sad/happy day passes."

Caring women with initials enter
Poking, prodding, asking the same questions,
While loved ones nervously watch.

Close friends, friends, and strangers
Phone and visit, offering their comforting words.
"We love you."  "We're praying for you."
"Make a pact with God."  "Chin up!"  "Happy Birthday!"

Their messages intermingle with disquieting thoughts
Of hopes and dreams left unfulfilled.
"Why me?"  "What now?"  "I knew it was too good to be true."
As hunger gnaws, and expectation is postponed.

A caring woman with initials enters one last time,
Poking, prodding, asking the same questions,
As the pushers of the bed arrive with their benign smiles.

Unwanted darkness returns,
As uncommon mortals work at their bizarre craft,
Opening the golden bowl,
Exposing its precious contents.

East and West Coast loved ones,
Separated by time and circumstance,
Carry on their prayerful vigil.

As 24 continues,
Surrounded by love,
Sustained by hope.
4/26/2018 - Poetry form: Free Verse - A friend's daughter was diagnosed with a brain tumor at the age of 23.  The day surgery was scheduled just happened to be on her 24th birthday.  She was supposed to be taken into surgery early in the morning, but she had to wait all day until mid-afternoon before they finally took her.  All that time she couldn't eat or drink anything.  Friends and relatives from the East Coast to California were wishing her a happy birthday and a successful surgery.  Emotions ran high.  It was very surreal.  When they finally took her to surgery we didn't know if she would live or die.  Thankfully, the surgery was successful.  I wrote this poem for her that same night after I left the hospital. - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
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