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Erian Rose May 1
Under the streetlights
on the corner of 11th
autumn turned into showers
your pupils reflected
seasons becoming racing beats
hours stumbling out of reach
by Michael R. Burch

Will we be children as puzzled tomorrow—
our lessons still not learned?
Will we surrender over to sorrow?
How many times must our fingers be burned?

Will we be children sat in the corner
over and over again?
How long will we linger, playing Jack Horner?
Or will we learn, and when?

Will we be children wearing the dunce cap,
giggling and playing the fool,
re-learning our lessons forever and ever,
never grasping the golden rule?

Keywords/Tags: kindergarten, golden rule, lessons, timeout, corner, dunce cap, fool, foolish, flunk, graduate
Ash C Feb 3
There's this corner in the living room I hate
It's gonna hurt me
I will get sick from it
It's got bugs
It's darker as it gets lower into the tip of the corner
I feel like it has eyes sometimes
I don't wanna look at it
It looks at me when I sleep
I don't wanna move my pillow to that side ever
It could be a giant black oozing monster
I'm afraid I smell it
I don't wanna touch it
It's gonna hurt me
Yet I still sleep with my bed in that corner
There really is this corner i hate in my living room
Leah Jan 3
there is something in the corner
I see it
no, now I don't
I just know it's there
but the corner is dark
it changes its face
like a clown
happy or sad?
you decide
now I see it again
its there
but I don't know what is it
I just know its there
Emily Dec 2019
in a corner
under the bed
asking questions about the dead
how to brake something fix
and how to fix something broke.
in a corner
in a room
with nothing else left to do
wondering thought wounder away
when will the day be that you'll go away
when will that corner expand
to a new land far away
until then
brake whats fixed
and fix whats broke
until that corner turns to another ghost
or what use to be.
annh Dec 2019
I write the night away in my quiet corner of the universe,
Hoping that my words will reach you;
That you may recognise yourself reflected in their distant glow,
Catch hold of one bright star in the twinkling density of the darkness,
And wish upon it.

‘Solitude gives birth to the original in us,
to beauty unfamiliar and perilous - to poetry.’
- Thomas Mann, Death in Venice and Other Tales
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