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love is around the corner
it's waiting for you
when it takes hold
it'll amaze you

there will be joy
in every part of your heart
as Cupid fires
his loving dart
you'll be awash
with a gleeful delight
all the affection having
a feeling so right

love is around the corner
it's waiting for you
when it takes hold
it'll amaze you

so walk about
the neighbourhood block
you'll see a partner
ambling toward your dock
those long held dreams
of love becoming real
all this and more
will so appeal

love is around the corner
it's waiting for you
when it takes hold
it'll amaze you  

don't hesitate
nor procrastinate
finding love's many
surprises will satiate
twill be the makings
of a splendid ambience
as love kindles
its sparkling magnificence

love is around the corner
it's waiting for you
when it takes hold
it'll amaze you
DP Younginger May 2018
There is a boy,
A presence stumbled upon in the shadows,
He hides his face to conceal his identity,
I see his flaws, but no one points at them and laughs,
He is surrounded by rusty chairs and a cloud of darkness,

He does not speak.
He does not think.
He simply stares at the world.

An empty dreamer with all intentions of barking,
He wants me,
I see him,
But my soul is engraved for another,
This boy,

I want to know what he desires.
I want to know if he stares at me for a "hello".
I want his attention.

The next day, he is gone,
A glimpse of his presence is captured, but not saved,
A figure of darkness and a corner of loneliness,
Shaded patterns of sadness echo in my senses,
Silently pushing me towards the abyss,

A face of fade.
A smile so still.
A beautiful soul trapped beneath a blank, stern, and silent scope.

I still want to know what he thinks,
My future is set in place, but is watched by the dark,
This boy needs light,
He needs a guardian,
To graduate with a wing of gold,

This foggy corner represents a relationship.
This boy signifies change.
This darkness is my unhappiness.

A narrative poem broken down into three sentences,
But do not be blind to the objective,
The words beneath the cracks,
I write about a boy,
A second image pierces my periferells,

On the left, is love.
On the right, is curiousity.
On the real, curiousity kills the cat.

I killed the boy,
I shot his nerves, point blank, with the roll of my eyes,
I just need attention,
I need constant attraction,
I adore his love,
I cherish my love for him,
Engraved in darkness,
Altered by a corner,
Continuous attention feeds my emptiness,
Until,
I,
Fade away,
Into my dark corner.
Written in Fall of 2008. Recently edited. From the perspective of "my love". The font from "Altered by a corner" to "Into my dark corner" should gradually decrease in font size, but I could not edit in that way.
River man takes his journey
through mearending reeds,
he's  got truth in his pocket
a diary of promises unsated.
For a shilling he take you to
hangmans corner,
a place to clear your head,
for a throw of the dice
he show you
the secret of life itself,
but beware of his wry smile!
Angel Turner Apr 2018
Quoth the Raven...

I found solace in those words,
every day for the past year.
PC, you have been my solace,
my notebook,
my home,
and I can't bring myself to hide this
in poetic confusion
and metaphors.

You,
and everything that you are,
are sinking into the void
that holds only trolls
and phrases that barely pass
as poetry.

Your colors are fading,
no matter how fast
a select few of us
try to paint them back.

God, I'm so sorry I couldn't do more.
I poured my heart and soul
into you, and yet
it wasn't enough.
Why couldn't I be enough?

...

I know that's not fair.
I know you hold so many
beautiful people with beautiful minds.
People who spin feelings
into such perfect words,
people who are slightly
(or more so) insane
but all the best people are.

This was originally a goodbye letter.

But honestly,
I couldn't make myself do it.

Sincerely,
A girl who found a home
in your insanity
A letter to a favorite writing app of mine.
***
Nayana Nair Apr 2018
The colors that have drained
from the dreams of people,
lie cluttered on the doorway
of their homes.
Everytime they try to leave
for something more practical
and more safe life, that they chose,
that awaits them everyday
and does not keep them worrying
about what all they can loose.
Everytime they step out,
even in hurry,
they sidestep that clutter.
Look at it from the corner of their eyes
and for a second their heart seems aware
of the frost that is killing it.
For a second the reasons for the
sleepless night and blank gazes is recalled.
But the limbs keep moving
to keep a distance from hopes
that never materialize.
On their way back home
they dread to see
the clutter of discarded dreams.
But they want to believe
that ignoring and forgetting it
becomes easier with time.
Although it never has.
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
I place myself in the center of room
as you panic to pack up your stuff,
being careful that nothing is left behind.
There are flowers growing in the corners of the room
that ask you to stay.
There are green skies
that we painted.
There are flaws your and mine
that decorate this wall.
There are TV channels
that we can surf through,
there are days to be wasted.
And I want to waste them with you.



I want you to stay.
I almost blurt it out.
But had it not been for these flowers and skies
and days written in color of your name,
I could have left
to find the dreams I never had.
There is a chandelier
of blood red glass
of your sighs and goodbyes.
I know you are not running away from me
but from our devils,
from our destruction,
that lay between us
every night.
Tiana Marie Mar 2018
"You'll be fine," They told me.
"It'll be okay," They said.
But did they hear the words they called me?
Did they hear the things they said?

Have they lived a life of torture?
Perhaps they've felt deranged?
Have they gone and hid in the corner
wanting desperately to change?
her ***** was red
she was
an
grown
woman

she pounced
an
panted
like an
panther
thought she was my answer
she sharpened her nails
with an file
made
of
cancer

we blew her
the
cure

now she is able to endure

she puts me in her cage
plays with me
once
an
day


she holds me down
she makes me ready
i
am
her
clown
we are
paper
machetes


in
her
seas

i
am
anchored
she was first
to let me
spanker
?





























...
..
.
duel me
in
your
...
..
.
Kate Willis Feb 2018
I found Fear on a street corner
with his hands stuck in his pockets
and a whistle between his teeth.
We waited for the light to switch,
for the two of us to go our separate ways
and never meet again, that is until one of us mourns the other.
But as we stood there I clicked my jaw back into place
And nodded up at the large red hand holding us in place.
“This thing’ll never change, will it?” I offered informal banter,
yet Fear turned his shoulder to me and continued
the shrill notes between his two front teeth.

After a moment Fear craned his neck,
the whistling stopped.
“I don’t talk to strangers,” he replied quickly
and returned his gaze to the street light above. I shuffled
my feet and pondered
about stepping into traffic
letting the cars sweep me into the air and take me far away from here.

I had one foot on the dark pavement –
“I wouldn’t do that,” his voice came through the whistling
but the sound never ceased. He didn’t
turn, but through the back of his head I could feel his eyes on me,
tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.
“Getting run over hurts –
getting run over by ten cars hurts worse,” he said.

I stood in silence but didn’t move my foot from the pavement.
“For someone who doesn’t talk to strangers,
you have a lot of life advice,” I huffed and brought my foot back to the sidewalk.
Fear’s shoulders tensed, his hoodie scrunched, the cowl brought up over his head.
In one quick movement, he moved on the ball of his foot to face me,
but only his silhouette came through the shadowed fabric
And he said to me,
“why else would I be here?”
As if he were some sort of god sent
down to protect me?
To keep me from stepping into traffic and–

“You have a lot of nerve -,”
but he was gone and the light had turned, a brisk person in place
instead of the hand.
My neck cracked as I searched for him but
Fear was gone.

And I was left alone with three seconds on the timer before I’d be frozen
in place again with only one foot ahead or behind.
So, I shuffled across the street toward
a destination unknown, and found myself
at the mercy of my own actions.
I never saw Fear again.
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