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Lost in my Head Jul 2019
Maybe I’ll finally start writing well
When I finally figure out who I’m writing about
Because it always starts with you
But I really don’t mind
Y’all I can’t even express how amazing last week was
Michael H Jun 2019
when I was a child
There was a religious
camp counselor

a few miles away
I encountered hell daily
though

his door was always
Unlocked
but I

did not get there
In time
so I

was briefly orphaned
Then sent
to Utah
What type of poems should I post here??
Will Jun 2019
Wake with me as the sun sets across the tree lined peaks.
Close your eyes when your lids grow weary.
Fall asleep in our tent, as the sun rises through the night.
Our fire burned bright, as we talked about finding love, losing life, and weeks gone by.
Savor every moment in these mountains, because soon enough this world will pass is by.
Makayla Wofford May 2019
We wait for that sweet summer day
To go swim and camp
To hang out with friends
Then it comes
You get bored of that summer day
And you start wishing
Wishing that it would go away
Then winter rolls around
And you miss that sweet summer day
You only want what you can't have them when you get it you want something new
Dear Mom & Dad,
This is the first chance I had to write to you. I'm sorry if I made you worry. I want you to know that all is well and I arrived safe and sound at Camp Heaven. Everything around me is more beautiful than I could ever have imagined. The trip was short. I got here just after I closed my eyes and fell asleep. It was as if no time had past at all. I miss you so very much. I was told to tell you not to worry because I would be seeing you soon. Please pass this letter on to all my relatives, friends at home, and at school. I arrived standing before a huge gate. A Beautiful Angel was there waiting to greet me; he had very large wide wings protruding from his shoulders and was wearing a whiter than snow robe with a golden sash around his waist. A Sparkling Halo circled above his head; his whole being glowed as bright as the sun. I was able to see his face; it was unlike any face I had ever seen before...perfect, soft, and gentle. He greeted me with a loving smile. I asked him who he was; he answered with a low and echoed voice: "My name is Gabriel. I am an Archangel and Messenger of God." I could hardly believe what I was seeing: a real live angel! He extended his arms to me; I rushed and fell right into them. He embraced and held me tight, then said: "Welcome home Michael." As he held my body close to his, I felt a profound sense of love, peace, and joy flow throughout whole body unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Mom and Dad, don't feel bad but the love I felt was a thousand times stronger than anything I ever felt before. He then said: "Come Michael, all your brothers and sisters are eager to see and greet you. Grab on to my cloak." We traveled through the air for a short while and landed on this wonderful outdoor arena that looked like a King's Palace all shiny and bright. A large group of men, women, and children had gathered. There were kinds of animals  milling around. I noticed there were doggies too. I was so thrilled to see doggies. I saw lots of Black Labs, just like our Smoky Bear. Gabriel put his arm around my shoulder and announced: "Children, this is your new brother Michael; welcome him home!" Everyone cheered and applauded louder than a crowd at a sports stadium; they all came to greet me and gave me lots of hugs and kisses. I felt like a Super Star! Gabriel then said: "OK, enough kissing and hugging, it's time to celebrate!" I started hearing the sound of music playing but didn't know where it was coming from. I looked up; descending from the sky was an army of Celestial Angels playing the most beautiful and enchanting music I had ever heard. Each one had a different instrument: a trumpet, harp, bell, and others instruments. The Celestial Music permeated the entire palace. Then, suddenly,a huge  table and chairs appeared in the center of the palace; they glistened like gems! The table was longer than a football field and filled with a assortment of all different kinds of fruit, vegetables, and breads; the spread was enormous!  Gabriel  seated at the head table stood, lifted his wine glass high and said: "Children, I hereby propose a toast to welcome the arrival of God's new adopted son, our new brother, and new addition to The Family of God, Michael! The crowd lifted their glasses and shouted: "Here! Here!" and sipped the wine. The Angels started playing a tremendous joyous sounding song. Everyone shouted out say: "Welcome Home Michael! Welcome Home!  Michael!" Gabriel then said: "Hallelujah!  It's time to eat, drink, and be merry! Let the celebration and feast begin!"  Mom and Dad, I'm in Heaven!  It's more wonderful and beautiful  than words could ever express!  Although I miss you and all my friends very much, please know that I am as happy as I ever could possibly have imagined. Everyone is always filled with Joy and Laughter and truly show their Love and concern toward one anther. . Gabriel told me this will be my ' Eternal Permanent New Home and Family!' I can stay here forever and never have to worry again about getting sick, growing old, or have bad things happen. Please be well and take care of yourself. It's just like when you sent me away to those other camps for the summer, except this one is the greatest one of them all and will never end. I am in Heaven and here is where I was meant to be, where I belong, and where I will live in love forever and ever!  Well, I gotta go now; they're calling my name to join in on another exciting outdoor game.  I'll try to write again soon but it's hard to stop from all the fun I'm having. I love you both so very much!
Your son, Michael
 
By Milton Lopez Delgado
December 20, 2012
miltonandwanda@verizon.net
(570) 848-1682 (LL)
(570) 780-5253 (Cell)
This of course is my interpretation of how a young boy would explain Heaven to his Mom and Dad.
Ashari Ty Apr 2019

**
The campfire's out but it still burns
When I touch you, knowing
your warmth is for someone else.

•°.*
The Napkin Poet Mar 2019
You left
A footprint
On the wood panel
In front of me

Your wet soles
From dewed grass
And drunk squats

Your mark
Lays upon me
I know you’re near
But not here
Mel Williams Mar 2019
Your hands were heating pads.
Your fingers, soft and lithe, heating everything that they touched.
We started with our fingertips,
yours between mine, casting shadows on your bedroom walls.
We marveled that the shadows looked like twigs above a burning fire.
And so we stopped.
And made each other marshmallows.

You taught me what it was
to be chocolate on graham crackers,
place them on a metal rod
and cook them over an open fire,
chocolate burning and rolling across my tongue.
Also, like a campfire,
we traded secrets and pinky promises.
Your darkest secret
was that you hated everything that you loved.

Later, we rode your bicycles through the town that you grew up in,
over the railroad tracks,
across the old bridge where you told me you once took a lover.
It was just a kiss, but he stays with you still.
You and I shared that same phenonemon,
in that same spot.

Along the path, splitting up to your house,
we took turns being the leader and the follower.
Again and again, we would change positions.
Had our tires created tracks, you would have seen one tread crossing another crossing the other, pushing and crossing over each other,
like the way our bodies did, in time.

You had to get stitches only once when I was around.
I took you to the doctor and you told me
that you hoped your future husband would do the same.
I assumed the pain that I felt in that moment was sympathy
for the doctor pulling on your bruised and bleeding elbow.
It was not.

That night, you convinced me,
as you always did,
to try something new.
I ran ******* -but with a bra- across my dorm room floor.
No one besides my sister had ever seen that skin before.
You convinced me to dye my hair brown.
You told me I looked **** and I should have more confidence with the boys.
I didn't have the heart to tell either of us that they
were not what I was interested in.

I sat in the back of your car as you and your drug dealer smoked ****.
You asked me about the experience
and I laughed and almost told you
that i was tensed and waiting
to jump into the front of the car
if either of you were too ****** to turn the wheel yourselves.

Later, when he left,
we baked no-bake cookies and bought chips because you said they were the best combinations for romance movies
and ghost stories
and hot tubs.
I smoked **** for the first time there in that hot tub surrounded by the smell of chlorine
and refer.
And you.
In time, I stopped thinking about the inch or so of extra skin around my middle
and started thinking about yours.
You had much more than me
and you
were a goddess.

When we had dried ourselves and went inside
you said you were scared of the ghost you had planted in your house,
the one of your father.
I held you then and I held you later in our dorm room when you cried and told me how you felt
responsible.
You said the darkest thing you know is when you look in the mirror and you see dark eyes,
unrecognizable,
like there is someone else behind them.
Ghost stories never felt real until I met you.

That night,
You laid your body on top of mine
rough like logs
and then softer like marshmallows
and I knew then what it was to create heat out of nothing
but two objects
and a small span of oxygen.

The next day
you took my hand in public,
in the town they called Raystown,
in the chilly cold air,
and I felt the possibility.
Then,
on the way home, we got lost,
and under the dark trees  
you drew ghosts in the branches
and said I would never make you feel
safe enough
to be happy.
The trees looked like charactures at first,
and then just twigs,
and then the dark shadows moving behind glowing wood.

And then you reminded me that you hated everything that you loved.

You hated everything you loved.

You hated everything

that you loved.
My most personal poem, and the one I am most proud of. This girl still weighs on my heart after 6 years.
Emily Feb 2019
Why do hackers think so highly of boot camp?
Who pays through the nose to send footwear abroad?
Why use boots and not sneakers nor sandals?

Instead,
Stick with the proven approach,
Used over thousands of years,
Billions of satisfied users,
Faster and cheaper to boot.

Throat lozenges—guaranteed to improve hacking.
The cracked down on him, inhuman heroes.
They were from the same squad, he and the bullies.
They’ve been laughing at his temper full of stragness.
But you made the talll one say “sorry”, he was the king of bullies

“Why let him with just one “sorry”?” Here am I, right beside you.
I say it like I’m wicked, and smile along with you.
And with joke I hope hil a wound of his or two.
A couple years shall pass, and he’ll be a mountain guarding weak ones, too.

Oh, yes, hi will be guarding with the strength of words.
His eyes, they burn, like sunset skies if you look eastwards.
Hi will be our fellow, buiding from chaos of freedom the best of worlds.
He was saved today, well he will save tomorrow, big friend, trust in these words.
A year ago I translated my best poems from English into my native languages.
Now it’s time I do it in reverse. This is translation of “Gorah”. The original is in Ukrainian.
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