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and for a second i remembered why i fell in love with you all those years ago
it wasn’t just the laugh or the way your eyes lingered for a half a second too long but the way you made me feel in your presence,
like there was nothing else in the world that could draw your attention from my words.
but then i remembered, the temper, the walls, the vast insecurities that strangled you at night, and i remembered why i moved on,
you could never love me the way you loved being lost and i knew
i could never find you.
Mark Toney Oct 2019
There was a young math **** named Herbert
Who fancied himself a tax expert.
Touting tax tips he tried,
Till terribly tongue-tied;
No more will he overexert.
5/26/2018 - Poetry form: Limerick - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Julie Grenness Oct 2019
I'm a teacher for forty three years,
Does that make me an expert dears?
It's a rocket science yet,
Teaching reading to the pets,
Some folk are born to teach,
Educating our students each!
Feedback welcome.
trf Feb 2018
MY build to suit mind is designed for disappointing,
a warehouse space of dim lights, taunted by an l.e.d. retrofit,
TREPIDATIOUS, unable to sign my life's lease to own,
YEARS spoiled like produce, a dumpster gratefully digests.
I was 7, a little league southpaw, my arm, accurate on the mound.
PRACTICE of carelessly skipping stones over invulnerable ponds.
that day, the equation was misaligned, numbers squared roots and
CAUSED the answer to spawn seismic ripples of infinite affects.
it was the split second that was carelessly skipped and
THIS boy's vulnerable retina, the invulnerable pond.
although I was the expert marksman, I begged William not to Tell,
SO he blindly obliged my apple-shot withdraw request,
NOW spoiled produce my dumpster won't gratefully digest.
WHAT i regret most is not saying, William. Tell.
my trepidatious years I practice caused this so now what
this poetic prologue
a feeble exercise
to encapsulate common
place frustration
experienced by

this fledgling author.
yukon determine verdict
once ye peruse short
spurious poem
below decks
will consume scant minutes.

hoop fully byte size
format asper reflections
bing hobbled akin twin
frustrated cobbler
with nary a sole

to shoe healing power
of summoning
creativity words
stitched together
trying ma darnedest
to capture
fleeting idea.
filed within memory banks

jagged shoals of rock
illusory images frieze
leitmotif cerebral pad lock
forcing together mis
matched metaphors
or what not ad hoc

there a young lad skipping
with his lass in colorful frock
passing fanciful day dream
lazing about on the dock
while hands of time tick
on the clock

sober reality check tears me away
from idyllic distractions
rearing head of immense
frightful mental block
a bygone student of Antioch.

now an epilogue and expansion
of given thesis sans above premise.
i now oblige objective at hand,
and resume con sue mating

avant garde fashion express
sing difficulty for me
to seal craft building blocks
of english language in
a fitting manner does justice,

and gives liberty to leap
ping lizard like thoughts
that dart to and fro
hither and yon within my mind.

rather than censor or edit,
I pour out at rapid fire rate
the notions that flit thru
me noggin staring at black

strunk white screen. some
times eyes remain closed
to help initiate process
to summon forth this, that
or another barely
perceptible concept.

the task less difficult
when topic provided
happens to be the case
with self imposed

approximately five ***
dread word epistle,
which preconceived
subject automatically

narrows focus into
figurative box.
when provided  
with specified issue,
the effort arduous
to gather plethora

of disparate points
indicating directions
diatribe in question could shift.
any one of these paths
(if not most) take down  
moribund dead end

with only infinite abyss
as an escape. countless trials
and errors find exploration
(to state near physical exhaustion)
where each bramble strewn route

only finds this pensive fellow hopelessly
and inextricably entangled within his
own thicket of unprintable verbiage.
would you believe and/
or accept, that ah aha
eureka moment arises

(and vacuum powerfully
***** up every ounce
of concentration)
most unexpectedly
and inconveniently

per on the toilet,
when paragraphs
nearly tumble pell mell
of their accord

(defying laws
of physics) from
tips of these fingers
or bowels of this simian.

a frantic attempt finds
zealous effort to tap
unstoppable barrage
barreling forth

from fount of mother
lode, than finds
slightest distraction
(such as a delivery
of parcel, tornado,
cosmic catastrophe,

et cetera) to lose precious spider
thin thread forever
(at the eleventh hour)
lost along vast vista
abandoned like useless
obsolete materiel.

even upon minutes scrutinizing
satisfactory completion
sans lengthy manuscript,
an unbiased opinion

of displeasure frequently
takes place finds disappoint
ment, and these myopic eyes
blink and stare once again
at white washed computer screen.
cassie marie Oct 2017
My depression is like when you get invited to a party, but you don't wanna go but you know you should go
My depression is like when you try to get out of bed, but you just can't
My depression is like that aching pain in your chest when you feel bad for blowing someone off, but you can't help it
My depression is like that distant old friend who showed up to the party without an invite
My depression keeps me from doing the things I love most
this is my first one so if it is not that great, I'll try and get better with feedback helping me grow
Elizabeth Meza Sep 2017
i detest the notion that you must love yourself before you can have someone else love you, as ideal as that may be it’s easier said than done. there is nothing wrong falling in love with someone while learning to love yourself in the process. he taught me how to love myself, he showed me that i was beautiful and i was worthy of a love like his, i deserve to be happy. he taught me that i have a kind forgiving heart and i’m not quite as damaged as i believed, although i’m convinced he’s cured me. his love showed me that everything i deemed imperfect about my form was stunning and with every kiss he pressed to my body i believed him more and more. months have dripped by and falling for him was easy, it was like going home and along the way i found myself and she is beautiful and worthy. i have found god again and i have blossomed. i am whole and always have been.
Elizabeth Meza Aug 2017
I had never known beauty until I saw him, lying there ******* tangled in my sheets. his lips were slightly parted and his eyes closed in sleep. the morning light began to creep it's way into the quiet room and lightly touched his bare chest. his hair was was undone and unruly and he was beautiful. I think of this when I lie alone in my cold room thinking of where you lay now. I think of the soft hum that resonated in your chest as you slept and how it comforted me once. I think of the way I'd wake you up with a small peck on the lips and how you'd kiss me back, not even opening an eye. I think of the way your eyes were then, foggy in sleep yet the way they smiled down at me made me feel as though that me, in all of my bare vulnerability was something beautiful too.
Vexren4000 Jul 2017
The master and expert,
The master knows the secret,
The expert has yet to unlock,
The master sits atop the mountain,
waiting for the worthy man,
To trek up the side of the mountain,
To master the art,
Of being human.

©BAS
Äŧül Dec 2015
If I was a real world king,
The assassin group at my command,
Would consist of 13 experts.

If there was a assassin's creed,
They will carry out my royal orders,
All 13 of them along with me.

So would be the deadliest group,
So would be the perfect killers,
So would be the "14 Marksmen".
My HP Poem #941
©Atul Kaushal
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