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Sarah Flynn Oct 18
we use mascara to
mask our madness,
and concealer to
cover our faults.

we refuse to leave
the house until we’ve
done our makeup.

we forget our wallets
on the kitchen counter.
sometimes, we have to
drive all the way back home
just to pick them up.

we forget to say goodbye
to our families as we
rush out the door to
get to work on time.

we forget car keys,
glasses, cell phones,

we forget everything
that we know we
need to remember.

but we never forget
to put on our makeup.

we never forget the idea that
our values are almost always
determined by some man’s
perception of beauty,

and that our brains
mean nothing if we
can’t share our thoughts,

and that we can’t share
our thoughts if we
don’t look pretty enough
to draw attention.

we never forget that we are
ignored by our bosses and
criticized by our coworkers,
until our beauty is noticed.

we never forget that our
bodies receive more attention
than our voices ever have.

we forget to prepare
our presentations,

but we never forget
to prepare our bodies
for an entire day
of being judged.
Skins touch with a shocking wave of electromagnetic beats,
the tempo of our hearts sync in melodies.
When you kiss me with your tender lips, my mind becomes...
Earthly fields summon my spirit when you come unto me with your sweet lavishing ways.
You lay there...on my bed, with's just us 2 alone with the TV on and when i turn to look at you, your eyes are more of a sharp blue than the daylight brings.
I laid there with my eyes closed and felt the gentle grasp of your hand massage my ****, when i slowly opened my eyes around the room...i see you, staring at me with those Electromagnetic eyes and once again we fall into a trance for loves best symphonies.
Whenever you're with me,
The room,
My soul,
Our bodies...become...
Romance between 2 people
discomfort in fulfilling our hopes
hesitance in facing our fears
where do we draw the line
between living and being alive
if our actions speak louder than our words
how do we measure sound
in the face of death
why do we let her down
in knowing that we never settled
bets with our hearts
gambling our existence away
basing our worth in cards
dealt by someone else
concrete in our stubborn ways
when do we realize
changing habits has no price
yet the highest cost
but we still refuse to pay
for debts we acquire
and complain about the weather
until our bodies collapse
My body is a "temple"
So why must I shrink it
For it to be worshiped
Savio Fonseca Jun 21
I was Wooing My Honey,
on a dark lonely Night.
The Stars were missing
and the Moon was nowhere in Sight.
We were sailing in Italy,
on the Waters of Lake Como.
Reminding ourselves,
of Our Nightmare near Mount Bromo.
The Waves were Flirting
and Romancing the Shore.
Her Kisses started pouring
and we're sweeter than Before.
As Our bodies went Sailing,
from one position to Another.
The Rain came Tumbling,
changing the ****** Weather.
As Our Romance reached,
it's Mountain Peak.
Our Bodies were Locked,
putting an end to The Week.
Anne J Apr 27
bodies drop, no pulse
graves with no name inscribed on
downtown festive no more
With 54,938 cases, the state I live in is the state with the 3rd highest corona rate. The downtown of my city, which used to have plenty of events and people roaming the streets, is a ghost-town, something that never happened even when the marathon bombing took place. This virus is terrifying. Everyone, please be safe during these times. (I just made this haiku about 5 minutes ago. I actually meant to make a haiku for haiku day but forgot lol.)
Give them no ribbons. My dear friend who was following orders in Vietnam
was blown to bits when he tripped a wire. Give him no ribbons. Ribbons and medals will not bring him back to his wife who is now in her mid-70s, whose two sons and one daughter each have families of their own, but have no Grandpa whose knee to sit on and play games with and just have fun and laugh with. Michael Dillinger went to Iraq to fight because W told him to. Unfortunately, his amored truck hit a road mine and killed Michael instantly.
Ribbons? They gave ribbons to Michael's mother before they buried Michael in Arlington? Ribbons, for God's sake! Did those ribbons and medals really help console Michael's mother? Did Cheney ever call her to see how she was doing? No, he was in charge of creating what he called "enhanced interrogation," a gross euphemism for unspeakable torture and terror that went on at countless, secret camps in the countries of our allies, and still goes on at Guantanamo even today. Give them no ribbons. Take all the ribbons and medals you can find that were given to those soldiers who gave their very lives for lies, for all those soldiers now lying in all the VA hospitals throughout our country, their bodies permanently disfigured, their minds completely lost, and dump that pile of ribbons and medals in the front yard of wherever W lives in the suburbs of Dallas.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet, a novelist, and a human-rights advocate his entire adult life.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 12
There are more poems inside me, but I intuit it is longer fair to impose on you by sharing more.  The deep seeded infection of my spirit waxes and wanes, and there is no antidote, and unlike the virus itself, there never will be, a future cure, an inexpensive replacement cost for the spirit spent, the time and futures spirited away.

Perhaps you recall I was one mile away from Ground Zero on September 11th.  Rarely do I walk there.

The coronavirus poetry inserts itself unaided, never asking permission, a like minded, but a contra-cousin to the coronavirus.

I live in New York City, the epicenter where now, close to 800 die daily.

Normally, about 25 bodies a week are interred on Hart island, mostly for people whose families can't afford a funeral, or who go unclaimed by relatives.  In recent days, though, burial operations have increased from one day a week to five days a week, with around 24 burials each day.^^

Each dies with no last words, no Kaddish recited, Last Rites, too late, no Ṣalāt al-Janāzah or Om Namo Narayanaya.  Each one, a numbered pine coffin, and each one will have at the very least, a poem of their own, so help me god.

Buried side by side in large trench, room plenty for new arrivals,
I hear the banging, protesting, resisting, this is not the way, I was promised, my ears left pounding!  Hillel, the great scholar in this dream, reminds that “the time is short, and the work is great.”          

He paraphrases, though, “the bodies many, the poems too few.”

There ain’t no anonymity in heaven, but I’ll reconfirm that with you later.
by Michael R. Burch

This poem is dedicated to Harvey Stanbrough, an ex-marine who has written eloquently about the horror and absurdity of war in "Lessons for a Barren Population."

No, I will never know
what you saw or what you felt,
****** into the maw of Eternity,

watching the mortars nightly
greedily making their rounds,
hearing the soft damp hiss

of men’s souls like helium escaping
their collapsing torn bodies,
or lying alone, feeling the great roar

of your own heart.
But I know:
there is a bitter knowledge

of death I have not achieved,
and in thankful ignorance,
and especially for my son

and for all who benefit so easily
at so unthinkable a price,
I thank you.

Published by Romantics Quarterly, Poetic Reflections and Poetry SuperHighway. Keywords/Tags: Vietnam War, maw, mortars, rounds, souls, escaping, bodies, corpses, death, heart, roar, bitter, knowledge, thanks, thank you, service, honor, duty, courage, bravery, heroism, patriotism
Itunu Mar 31
I almost loved you
more than life itself

But while  I loved you,
I lost myself

You idolized my body
with fervent desire

You whispered words of desperate love
and I allowed you to consume me

Each time we touched
I pressed my body close, wanting more
needing more

I wanted our hearts to be one
to connect, to unite

And when you looked into my eyes
I was consumed by your stare

And I fell so desperately and hopelessly
In love with you

Almost more than life itself
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