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Nadia Sep 2019
You release your words
Measuring each syllable,
Carrying all the consonants,
Gathering up the vowels,
And waiting for the light
Before you cross.
Certain words put a curve
To the shape of your mouth
And your eyes, confidence.

My words are forced unwilling
out the door; each one
pushing on the one ahead,
an unbalanced mass;
tipping forward until they fall
Out in a rush, elbows out,
Knees weaponized;
Falling over each other, still
breathlessly barrelling on.

NCL September 2019
Desire Mar 2019
Deliverance is not delusional.   No duhh!
Its definite, deliberate, and distinct,
and yours is long overdue!
Boo the damns and dooms.
Fight despite defeat.
Dance with victory.
Finally be free.

I dare you.
Discover divine deliverance
from within, down and deep...

Arisa Mar 2019
I bet that man,
he with his white cap,
smashed my box against the wall
as he so carelessly
my package on the doorstep.
A little aggravated at the state of my packages.
SelinaSharday Feb 2019

Such formality
Such normality
So back to reality.
Saddened by my delivery.

Yet I found some chemistry.
Wish One would confer with me.
Give me time I'd like to be exemplary.
You may not be aware due to my delivery.
Give me time.. give me rationality.
Remove the formality.

I can handle goin back to the normality.
I wasn't quite ready..
but keep the sweet gifted beauty.
Seen in this Rarity..
known as my melody..
The true gift of Being Me.

ShardayRose..S.A.M 2019
a poor delivery.. not really who I am.. or poorly shown who I can be..give me the chance to confer.
her spirit
is there
today with
her dime
that fear
her face
like Nefertiti
but in
a garage
that fit
her sleeve
these peeves
roar her
suffrage but
shakes her
clams in
a menagerie
news scene
Nick Stiltner Feb 2018
Words of honey and liquor would flow,
At temples along the rolling hills,
they would grow and ripen and
be uttered at sacrificial flame
If I was born in the vein of Apollo.

Words would meet paper
with crackling energy loaded, ready to burst,
robust in power and accompanied by crashes of thunder
If I were bred of the mighty Zeus.

My speech could flow like lapping tide
and slam against the sterns of braving ships
If I carried within,
the flowing will of Poseidon.

Perfectly forged syllables struck on metals
passionately burning. Resounding clangs
and crashes from my shop would ring,
If the strength of Hephaestus guided
my hammer swing.

But as portraits are painted and
are gone to wind,
Their light touch fleeting pass,
Remorse not felt but only desire
to express and to deliver,
to paint, drop off, and be gone.
My words dance with winged feet
and then exit in retreat, with a bow
and a dashing leap,
Disappearing down the street.

Caduceus snakes wrap about my pen
and whisper rhymes softly in my ear.
Rising laughs echo down the trail,
a man dashing to his next delivery.

Light feet dancing forward,
hand whirring from line to line
and his eyes posted firmly to
the nights sky,
The stars singing his Siren song.
Seema Sep 2017
The clouds rush
Collide and crush
Sweeping the sky
With a silent brush
While trees hush
Singing melody
Calling unto a name
Calling on somebody
The blown leaves,
Fall from grieving trees
Swaying over my head
As I lay on my death bed
The clouds are rushing
The sky looks fevery
My breath is crushing
My body awaits, delivery...

Spilling thoughts.
Remember when life was delivered

from milk right on down to your meat

There'd be people  out delivering groceries

At least two on every side street

If you neglected to pick up an item

Just phone up and talk to the store

A delivery boy would soon bring it

You don't get this service no more

Each house had a door for deliveries

Your milk, cheese and eggs would all fit

If you call up today and said "tab it"

The person you're phoning would ****

Ice was delivered in wagons

Horses pulled them around every town

But, today ony fast food is delivered

And delivery horses aren't  found

Every morning when you'd get your paper

It was delivered as well by a kid

You could smell the fresh bread in the morning

with the glass bottles of milk with gold lids

Remember when life was delivered

It was all a much simpler time

Back when customer service was special

No it's gone and that's just a crime
CasiDia Dec 2015
First snow, we watched,
Blueprints breaking apart.
A paradox talking loudly,
Over no one in particular.

Our house became haunted
by so many curses,
and none of them watched
the inches stack onto
piles of dead earth.

They were too busy deciding
which one could laugh
the longest without breathing.

One month from today was the delivery.
Everyone whispered into their hands.

Meanwhile, the blizzard exploded
inside the walls and left us
with all these bite marks,
exposing our circuits to the cold air.

Everyone picks themselves up and waits until tomorrow.
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