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David P Carroll Dec 2024
It's your birthday today
And may your day be
Filled with happiness and
Pure delight and
With cream cake and balloons
And old Irish tunes
Happy birthday your adored
By all and you always stand so tall.
And your forever a shining star.
Happy Birthday Lily Agg
Republic Of Ireland football player 🇮🇪
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2024
most of my poems come spontaneous,
dare I say even easy, the composition,
tumbling rumbling usually no fumbling,
this one, the prep commences. a month priority plus, with wellsprings of considerations,
in advance…

’tis Miz Patty’s day of birth,
ah, the feminine mystique
prevents me from revealing
her precessional numerical
decades of decadence,
but adoration of this Magi,
is not so constrained,
so bend my knee to the woman
who writes a
poem’s complexity
as if it were a fine
medieval tapestry,
colors aflaming,
workmanship intricate
intriguing, well deserving
of a place,
in the Metropolitan Museum Cloisters fortress,
that guards
the Hudson River’s Upper Valley’s
verdant stippled wider majesty,
near to where Washington’s
troops fled Manhattan heights
to safety in New Jersey, most
ignominiously

I’m told that tears arose,
then fell, when first she
read  this inattributed essay
on this jubilee day, a clarion
reminder note of her coronation,
to this great green planet,
Missoura Mama as she is
with great affection so known
throughout this glorious land

Ah, wax too eloquent,
never my style,
only my favorite sin,
when one begins
to pray tribute,
to a finer poet…and
mine own heroine

this aperture of insight,
this scrap of script,
why the papyrus turns
pinkish red, as she demurs
this ode of praise,
while the edges crisp
burnt, brown ~black
by the heat of her outraged
enraged protestation
of “way too much,”
a pretense commenced
by my opportuned
impermissioned reveling
revelation of this
datapoints accidental
dislocating disclosure

as is my sin actuelle,
go on too long says
my devil muse,
so a final thought

if this should somehow be,
the first poem you’ve recovered
in this land of words gone mad,
make to hers, and there spend
a day, a lifetime, in a lovely land,
where her words will slip through
your eyes and hands, like fine
grains of sand, each letter,
a pearl in
black and white*…
fair warning: if alerted to the daylight of your arrival, for five bucks we promise not to write
you up or down, cash in advance only…
Hannah Dec 2024
I spent my 20th birthday in a petrified forest
It meant nothing and I sweat very much

I wonder how it feels to be petrified, how it feels for
Nature to memorialize you,

Laid to rest until coal-covered hands unearth you
Gingko and sassafras and yew feel the sun’s aged, dotted hands caress all over

This is how it feels.
A petroglyph carved from ancient basalt

And my dad carrying our dog on his shoulders.
15.5 million years of layered rock and

Worrying about the size of my legs next to yours.
Ice age floods exposed crystalized bark and

You wipe the **** off your shoe and we drive some more.
A month named after Maia
A transition from spring to summer
24 rotations on its axis
19 circles round the Sun
A boy born, his future uncertain
Years of hardship, keep enduring pain
Heart shattered at 16,
And haven’t recovered from the loss
Her body cremated and ashes in the river
Never got a chance to bid farewell
Turned 17, oh what a miserable life
School life turned to hell, full of rumors and lies
At 18, graduated from school
His efforts and work never came to ripe
I hope you’re okay on this fine Friday
Accept my regards as this poet turns 19
Cause I haven’t given up yet
I penned this poem for my birthday when i turned 19, which was on 24 may.
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
My birthday song
was sung by the birds this morn,
they greeted me
with kisses from Heaven.
Their gleeful singalong
bounced me out of bed headlong,
a spring in my step,
despite being age-strong,
I look forward
to celebrations all day long.
Grateful to be alive,
to witness this very day!

one year on.
Hebert Logerie Nov 2024
Today is a fantastically super day
Every day is a beautiful birthday
If you have a good health
You have a great wealth
Because illness is expensive
Diseases are very destructive
They make you look and feel old
They make you feel frail and cold.

I am happy to be alive
I can walk, swim and dive
In the very deep blue sea
Life is good and pleasant
I can smile, laugh and see
And enjoy the fresh scent
Of the ladies and the flowers
At the corner of the garden
Life is made of joy and errors
So far, I am still a good man.

Every day is a wonderful birthday
Today is another very exquisite day
The sun has nothing to do with nothing
The moon is present. Let me sing
And praise the Lord for His Kindness
My life is full of wit, glee and happiness
Forget about the money, honey
In our hearts, it is always warm and sunny.

Copyright © October 2nd.2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Zelda Nov 2024
26
The weekend before
My 26th birthday,
I stood in a church—
Its quiet beauty,
My unshed tears.  

Pleading—
With whom?
I’m not sure.
I lost my faith so long ago.  

Desperate
A powerful injustice
Brought me to my knees.  

Take my strength, my love, my will—
My whole life too.
And lead my loved ones
To where the sea births the sun.  

My pleas must've fallen on deaf ears.
I sat along the shore all summer long,
Watching the sea swallow the sun.


Epilogue
__

It’s just
A
Cold
Day

It’s just  
A  
Black  
Sea  

It’s just
My birthday

.
.
.
  
Twenty seven  
Twenty  
Seven.            
            Seven
Twenty.                                    
Twenty seven  
Seven          

.
.
.

Twenty Seven

.
.
.
27
Àŧùl Nov 2024
On December 23, 2023,
I was pursuing my job,
As a Probationary Officer,
At the State Bank of India.

My colleagues and parents gathered,
It was very nice; what should I say?
For a vegetarian's delight showered,
They had gathered together that day.

In Panchkula, it was the F.T.P.—2, or
Foundational Training Program 2,
All the probationers were there,
Where, in SBILD, Panchkula.

Celebrated my birthday a bit late,
For I reached there on a later day,
Not that my arrival was delayed,
Que sera sera, just systemic delay.

'Twas memorable,
Many colleagues.
We broke the ice,
I made no couple.

I reached the age of 33 years that day,
Like this time I'll complete 34 years,
But I miss being a child, or a kid,
Those birthdays were special.

On my 33rd birth anniversary,
I felt more than a year younger.
Finally a successful professional,
And obviously an eligible bachelor.

Still unmarried, now as a choice,
I don't find a compatible voice,
Those judge me by my past,
My successes matter not.

Men Going Their Own Way,
MGTOW seems a good idea,
The only viable option for me,
Isn't that the only one for me?

All I have with me,
Are just memories,
Some are besotten,
Others a' forgotten.

They consider me depressed,
Maybe I'm just depressed,
But I lack any real friend,
Lacking any inspiration.

I may have achieved success,
Academic and professional,
Like Granger & McGonagall,
Scripted through dedication.

Coming out of the shadows,
Like the full moon out there,
My parents be proud of me,
Getting married isn't crucial.
My HP Poem #2023
©Atul Kaushal

*Fresh Review of "My Birthday of December 23, 2023"*

*Overview*

This poem is a reflective and introspective account of your 33rd birthday celebration, exploring themes of identity, relationships, success, and loneliness.

*Structure*

The poem consists of 28 lines, with varying line lengths and no clear stanzas. Consider breaking it into sections for improved flow.

*Imagery and Symbolism*

1. "Vegetarian's delight" creates a vivid image.
2. "Full moon" symbolizes growth and self-awareness.
3. "Coming out of the shadows" indicates personal growth.
4. "Birthday" represents milestones and reflection.

*Themes*

1. *Self-reflection and growth*: You examine your life, achievements, and relationships.
2. *Loneliness and connection*: You express longing for genuine friendships.
3. *Success and fulfillment*: You acknowledge professional accomplishments.
4. *Identity and independence*: You assert your choices, including staying unmarried.
5. *Nostalgia and longing*: You miss childhood birthdays and simplicity.

*Tone*

The poem shifts between:

1. Gratitude and appreciation
2. Nostalgia and wistfulness
3. Frustration and disappointment
4. Hope and resilience

*Language and Style*

1. *Conversational tone*: Engaging and relatable.
2. *Metaphors*: Comparing yourself to Granger and McGonagall (Harry Potter characters).
3. *Allusions*: Referencing MGTOW (Men Going Their Own Way).
4. *Repetition*: Emphasizes key themes and emotions.

*Emotional Resonance*

The poem conveys:

1. Gratitude for colleagues and parents
2. Longing for genuine connections
3. Frustration with relationships
4. Pride in achievements
5. Uncertainty about the future

*Suggestions*

1. Refine structure and pacing.
2. Clarify language and imagery.
3. Explore specific themes or emotions in more depth.
4. Consider a more optimistic conclusion.

*Questions*

1. How do you see your poetry evolving?
2. Would you like to explore specific themes further?
3. How do you balance professional success with personal relationships?

Please let me know if you'd like me to elaborate on any aspect!
Matthew Harper Nov 2024
Supposed to be a special day,
But I think it's all the same.
Do you think that in any way,
You could light this dying flame?

A year has passed,
Yet I'm the same.
It's not my last,
Still in the frame.

A younger me is left behind,
Truly, I want to see a smile.
My soul, my heart is still so kind,
Yet I can't smile for a while.

I should be happy on this day,
Should be excited for these gifts.
But nothing now goes in my way,
Things have happened, many shifts.

I don't feel happy anymore,
I do not cry any longer.
I have no one to adore,
To help me grow stronger.

And yet, I live another day searching for my dream,
And yet, I live today still searching for ambition.
And yet, Still I want it, to quiet down this scream,
And yet, I manage here to stay, still searching for my mission.

I just hope to find my way,
To have the strength to live today.
MetaVerse Oct 2024
Oh, weep for Adonais—he's undead!
    And hath been, lo! these interstitial years!
Yellow and black and pale and hectic red,
    His cockney mood consumptively careers.
Upon a bubbling Hippocrene he's drunk
    And dreaming, standing tiptoe on the brink
Of the wide world that sinks (Byron's a punk)
    As love and fame to nothingness do sink.
An anguished autumn wind doth howl a HOWL
    Of abject grief that sweeps the graveyard's stones.
The sickle moon observes the downy owl
    That eats a mouse from tail to skull and bones.
Zombie Allan Poe, who's green and obscene,
Is sobbing, "Happy Birthday Halloween!"
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