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The walks of life I see;
such             little               hope
I have             for hum-                 anity
stum         ble blind           alone
never able to see reality.
Wake Up!
Mark Toney May 13
concrete jungle heat
suffocating cityscape
~ bare feet loving grass






Mark Toney © 2021
Poetry form: Haiku - Mark Toney © 2021
Jacob Reilly May 5
The first time your love has to be hidden, you'll understand that "I love you" is a commitment.

You've always told of abstract loves: people, dates, fun that never yet happened. But he... he's different. This boy is not abstract. He's your first. Your first, and your secret.

The first time you met was an early day for you both, but beautiful nonetheless. The first date; the first time you've ever shown this vulnerable side of you. Holding hands and flying high -- so high you are in the clouds. You've never felt so free. Nothing, nothing holding you back. When he closes in to hold you as the horizon approaches -- as you fall into a state of carefree desire, brace yourself. You can't help but think, "where will we go next, him and I?" To-be scenes so vivid flood your imagination. And you know what? It's quite a sight, to look forward to a future brimming with life; a future so bright it makes your heart soar, as if heaven itself was right at your feet. You could try forever to describe it but... you smile because what's next to come is everything you never knew you've always wanted. This is it. Right here, right now.

Your first art project with another person, your first theatrical event & first request to be someone's boyfriend just as the clock strikes midnight, your first everlasting pitter-patter of your heart over someone so deserving, your first Valentine's day that you aren't contentedly alone but are happily in a relationship, your first shower with another person, your first haunted attraction experience, your first sleep-over & first waking up to someone so lovely, your first sneaking a boy through your house & first hot tub adventure whilst your family sleeps, your first "time" with him, your first midnight rendez-vous, your first SeaWorld fun day & first Busch Gardens extravaganza & first circus adventure, your first time meeting his sister, your first sharing of aspirations to someone else, your first asking him to revise your homework with you, your first dinner date & first saying "I love you" in the back seat of his car as tomorrow sends you back home, your first planning of a vacation that too soon will be postponed, your first planning a week together once school is out to sleep-over and everything else, your first discussion that ends as an argument, your first crying over someone who loves you under conditions only, your first make-up "act", your first Ikea trip, your first waking up too late for another more-or-less important commitment but to you he was the most important, your first serious phone call, your first break-up.

Your first time saying "I still love you" in your dark, lonesome closet, awaiting a reply, an echo, something. But you know that your love is unconditional, while his has its limitations; unrequited love will never yield your dreams. The pain of losing him is not abstract, it's concrete. This pitter-patter love won't go away. 

No... the first time your love has to be hidden, you'll understand that "I love you" is a burden.
Man Apr 12
what is it to be 40
twice the man, you were at twenty?
four times the man, you were at ten?
is it being wiser
and having your means meet the end?
finances sured up?
with no need, for to be the miser
a divorce or some
perhaps a strong marriage
polyamorous loves
to your heart's desire
addictions? vices? troubles stifling?
death breathing down your neck
to the thumping of your heartbeat
beads of sweat, gather
and run off your chest
like your shoes on the concrete
you are dying
even while you're living
and you know one day
it'll be your last
cause we only get so long
and time goes fast
a baby is born
the next afternoon
an old man is buried
tomorrow could never come
would you ever know it?
Svetoslav Mar 25
black cats hunting mice
on a concrete alley --
   night sight revealed
little lion Feb 5
My life has become a bit like a fishbowl:
the glass is thick and durable, it's supposed to
be smudge-proof, but you never fail to leave your finger-
prints behind. There are rocks at the bottom, a blend of neons:
blue and orange and pink and green and yellow, painted with the
cheap kind of paint that eventually chips away and gathers at the tip-top of the water...always mixing in with the the flimsy food flakes you toss in at mealtimes before watching with disinterested fascination as I swim to the top and sort through what's edible and what's not, as if the food is much better than the chips of paint and the dust bites that gather after a few days of sitting on the counter. My bowl stays in the sun as though the pink and purple fake plants you've given me require time spent in
the light to grow and prosper, although it is fun to check every
now and then to see how much you really care when I let
myself drift to the top of the water to bask in the glow
of either the sun or the artificial lamp that's been
placed next to my bowl. Some nights you
forget to turn it off, but I don't mind
so much because at least then I
can watch over you at night
the way you watch over
her, instead of me.
Amanda Kay Burke Dec 2020
You left in a state of confusion

I was sure what we had was concrete
All of a sudden I found myself drowning in a flood of emotions
Feedback?
daphne Dec 2020
dandelions grow
through concrete, cracking the stone
their will was strongest
an observation from summer
Anushia Oct 2020
common unleashed my thought  
proper capitalized my title
concrete engraved my pleasure
abstract fantasized my dream

nouns complete my poetry
nouns create actions for life
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