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Childish jealousy
Doesn’t at all look well on me
Maria Mitea May 2020
at the first encounter, i thought, that he stole my mother’s tablecloth,
and called it Great while she turned the flour into bread,

after, i thought, what if they were lovers, and shared the same tablecloth
while my father was sweating in his fields, and she was sipping wine from her grapes
when he wrote songs of despair, as they could not have each other,

i shake away my childish thoughts and doubt even more:
- what if they were traders,

trading the tigers, the bread,
the tyrants, the grim teeth,
the wine fields and hard eyes,
the lamb, the onions,
the hunger and the thirst,
the hours of eating the strawberries
and the blossoms on the great tablecloth.

oh, i am childish,
jealous,
curious, and can not stop the thought of stolen tablecloths:
- what if when sad and lonely he put a spell on my mother?
and used her as a tablecloth for those who never loved, or cried,
and those who never turned the flour into bread.
Pablo Neruda was a Chilian writer that wrote  "The Great Tablecloth" poem. I have had this poem in my heart for a long time. It feels great to have it written in English. :)
Maria Mitea May 2020
going
childlike
and childish
who cares? as
long as
the golden
sun
still rolls on the ground
chasing
how? steps enter my voice
and heart murmur
follows
in quiet
breathing
childlike
wonder
Steve Page Apr 2020
Steve the poet sat at his desk
Steve the poet made a great mess
All of his pencils and all of his pens
Couldn't help Steve make a stanza of sense
A response to Humpty Dumpty.
Lee Carter Mar 2020
Is this a question worthy of an answer?
I'm sure the sane answer is "no."

Is there poetry in farting into a milk crate?
Maybe not, but I'd very much like to think so.
TS Mar 2020
I'm 25 and my shirt glows in the dark. A skeleton rock on symbol lights up as the world darkens around me. That's always been me though, never growing up fully, and I would never apologize for that result.

Responsibilities ****. Showing up every day only to do it all again tomorrow can get pretty **** tedious and is constantly boring. But when we find the little things that bring light to the darkness, who are we to turn them away. Of course we can't always have the light because we wouldn't appreciate it nearly as much. Sure, we will have those things that take up space, the things that we have to do in order to live, but that is not our definition. Our dreams perpetually change - we have no definition. Our best bet in this world is to find those things that bring light and hold on to them.

So wear that glow in the dark t-shirt, wear those dinosaur footy pajamas, jump in puddles, watch cartoons, eat sweet cereals, draw horribly, sing innocently, get excited about the little things. Because life isn't one whole big thing - it's made up of millions of smaller pieces - collect the good ones.



-t.s.
Sylph Jan 2020
They keep telling me
To open my eyes
To the world
To Reality
The cliff I will be dropped from
Society
The monster lurking in the darkness below
ready to swallow me whole

But
I will never live that life
I wont be pushed off that cliff
I cant say I will be prepared though either

This life though
Its mine
The world is simply what I want it to be
My reality will be A lot of what this world isnt

My reality love isnt free
but it doesnt cost pain, Only time
My reality theres no such thing as a bad person
Only someone who makes bad choices
My reality the cats talk
My reality stars tell you stories and the wind kisses your nose

Me
My reality
My thoughts
My wonders
They may seem childish
But whos to say its wrong?
I wont be a mindless slave to the world I will soon be left in, If im stuck here why shouldnt I make the best of it?
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