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Eleni Aug 2017
Shards of ice that teem
With a pearlescent glow.

Your minarets gleam
And pry over my turbulent waters.

You are not what you seem
If you polish your sharp edges-

Or cut through them with a tongue as sharp as your craters.

But I'll wait four weeks-
So that you will fall back into the shadows.

But, alas, I cannot run fast
For you are the winner;
The long distance winner that routinely comes and goes.
This started as a personification of the moon but then turned into a metaphor of a very tumultuous relationship. Superficially the person (or the moon) appears bright and beautiful, but slips back into the shadows (after 28 ish days) during a new moon. The juxtaposition of the new moon being unseen in the sky reveals that the other lover is constantly trying to keep up with the other person, yet the distance between them is keeping them separated. The places poetry can take you, eh. ;)
Josh Mayesh Aug 2017
It’s too bright here.

Too much blinding
and reminding
of the darkness in my eyes--
You stained our earth.

Now drain the sun,
and wash away the stars.
Rebuild my inner prisons,
Sabotage the chiding moon,
Stoke my longing;
Loathing;
Tear the fabric of the sky.
Speak no more of sunsets,
Divest me of your dreams,
Feed all that’s bitter harmony
with the music of your lies.

Tarnish golden memories;
Posed postcards of the past.
Lock me up
alongside
Emptiness,

Core this body of its soul.

Nurture Hope’s despair--

Dare
to
Disturb my universe no more;

Feast on the charred embers
of my essence like you never would before.
Jack Jenkins Aug 2017
why is it
everyday
i give my
best to the
world
my best
to people
&
all I get
in return
is the
worst
from
everyone?
Spent the whole weekend meditating on my life and why things are the way they are. I understand why I am bitter and jaded now. The only question is do I have a right to be? I'm angry. I don't get angry often.
Arcassin B Aug 2017
By Arcassin Burnham


A gorgeous girl you are.
But your spoil as hell.
Run over everyone you meet.
at first they couldn't tell.

Your mother makes too much money,
You Feel like you don't have to work.
your friends think your annoying.
but they never use their words.

you could be better than this,
but you choose to be the popular clique.
you really think your ****,
until someone considers you lame and that's it.

If you think your not one of those girls,
then you should be.
Do you wanna be negative in your memories?
©abpoetry2017
https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2017/08/those-girls-photo-by-sidney-kirsch.html
Liam Jul 2017
You are a *******.
Disillusioned with reality for lack of significance yet compulsively obsessed with the vapid, the vain and the relentlessly vicious.

Yes, I am a *******.
Hiding from the very idea of perspective,
I aimlessly am.
Abacination betters hallucination.
The sore truth aches fantasy,
Not exile.
Perception is the mother of deception.
Seema Jul 2017
Forgive the dare wrath
Of my ruthless boneless tongue
It spits ugly words
Only to the heartless fool
Staring from the vague mirror



©sim
Tanka
5-7-5-7-7 syllables
aurora Jul 2017
a sip of yesterday morning's coffee reminds me of you
cold and bitter and "what else would you expect"; you'd say
i keep drinking, knowing i could and should drink something better
but i don't, i can't, and i won't
this is life how i choose to make it;
an endless cycle of coffee I'll never drink when I'm supposed to, but will always finish
Mikayla Smith Jul 2017
Mama washes the clothes
And hangs them out to
Dry, she takes me by my
Hand and we dance beneath
The twelve o'clock sky.

Papa goes to out and
Doesn't come home until
Late, we're all snuggled in
Bed by the time Mama asks
Him why he hasn't ate.  

He's missing out on time with
The kids,
Mama tells her sister
One dreary day.

I might just have to work more, she'll say.

Papa feels weak, thinks it's his job
To provide for a family that's
Just starting to fray.

Mama works and we ask
Why she won't come to play.

Papa tells me she's off to
Work, that it'll just be for
A little while.

But, days turn into weeks,
Weeks turn into months,
Months turn into years.
Instead of Mama, Daddy now
Wipes my tears.

They tell him that he's a poor
Excuse of a man
And that Mama is better
Off finding a real one.

Times have changed,
Families grow in different ways.
Sometimes things happen,
But I've learned that
Mama's and Papa's still
Love their children just the same.
A piece reflecting my childhood. My mother and father struggled for years to have children. When they finally did, my mother dreamed of being a stay at home mom to me and my younger brother. However, my father struggled to hold down a job, forcing my mother to work full-time while my dad looked for anyone who would hire. This lasted for years: my father losing job after job, drowning his sorrows in alcohol and my mother growing more and more bitter at my father and at the fact that she was missing out on time with her children. I was too young at the time to realize the circumstances, but now that I'm older, I have a much better perspective on it.
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