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Cecil Miller May 2
Of all my days and nights,
This will be my favorite.
I will carry it with me,
As long as life will let me.
When I am feeble and fading,
I will hope to hold on to it.
It is my favorite memory of you.

Of all my days and nights,
This will hurt me most.
I cannot let it slip away;
Life will not let me.
Now you are feeble and fading,
I have still my favorite
Memory to help me through.
The night I took a break from my novel is the same night I wrote most of my entres this morning. I hope some of them are good.
Hansel Apr 8
What sense do you consider the most precious?
Among the five: sight, hearing, taste, smell, touch
The four-year-old me would say it's taste
Upon licking her first mango-flavored ice popsicle

When she rode the bus and watched the sunset,
It's sight because it reminded her of some crush
And when they reached a mountaintop
There'd be no better view than city lights at night

Teen days came and she discovered emo music
Which she blasted through earphones for hours
This, along with her cat's meows & purrs
Comforted and made her say "I'm glad I hear"

At dawns on weekends, she strolls the coastline
Sniffing the scent of the sea as it kisses her soles
Or she'd be on the neighbor's garden
Finding the healing smell of a flower or its roots

Tomorrow, she'll find a lover thoughtful of hugs
She'll admire the sculpture of their nose bridge
The sensation when their lips touch
Smiles between kisses, making her the happiest

I can't choose one
My favorite sense changes with time
With new situations, with new discovery

When I hear the ringing of tinnitus I get anxious
That I can't sleep with the drizzling rain again
That when allergy stuffs my nose before sleeping
I can't wake up to a friend's gift - aroma diffuser

Only after sore heartbreaks can one appreciate
How lulling it is to slam the keys of the piano
How satisfying it is to drink water after starving
Locked in the room, crying over past pictures

I  love them all equally
With each passing minute, observe them
As they occur naturally in everything
a poem of some of my favorite things and experiences: mango flavor, a particular plant's roots..
You said I was perfect
And you meant every word of it
Like a design-your-own character, I fit your every preference
My blue eyes, my bowed lips, my eyelashes
My rib cage, small enough for you to hold
You told me you loved my every curve
How my skin was just pale enough to complement yours
My height, my legs, my voice your favorite in the world
My brownish blond hair that you loved to twirl

I suppose for me, you weren't far off
Six feet tall, lean, but strong
A laugh that made me sad when I didn't hear it for too long
Dark brown curls that turned red with the season
You grew your hair out for me, but I'll never get to see it
You said I was your dream
But you weren't mine
Because the one that I dream of
Will never say goodbye
KMarie Feb 11
Your kisses leave me
My nights without you
My days without you
Are just less
Because you make me whole
Our nights together
I won’t ever feel
I need your love
Because it makes my heart full
I can’t bear to think
Living life
Because it makes me feel empty
Please don’t leave me
You’re my one and
Because you’ve shown me how to love again.
july Jan 24
remember the day you told me
about your favorite song
i listened to it
over, and over again

remember the day you asked me what's mine
so that you can listen to it
i just shrugged
and motioned you to talk more

as your mouth goes dry
as you told me things,
shared me stories,
laugh at almost anything,

you saw how i listen to you,
like how you listen to your favourite song

how i give you attention like you do,
whenever you're singing your favourite line

how my eyes shine like yours
whenever you feel the lyrics resonating within you

how i smile like you smile,
whenever you finish the song

you're my favourite song.
sing for me
A B Faniki Jan 6
Of all the words in the word
I have one that I love above all
and it has nothing to do with it

ambiguous nature or it exquisite sound
but rather it profound meaning and it simple
ability to mean much and say a lot.

It moves me to tears every time I heard
it for I always "Longed" for someone and feel
it deeply. Like I always long for the almighty

God, my mother, and friends that passed
away daily. what make the word beautiful
is it comes from the soul and the heart;

The word "long" is my favourite word.
because a schoolgirl-Crush give me it, on crumple
paper that said "I long 4 u, -T."
aniki 01/06/2020. I have taken to wrting in a tercet firm with the rhythm ABC, AB C, … five time. Called Tercet- Amiru. I hipe u enjoy this piece
FloydBrandon Dec 2019
My favorite shape is your shadow
My favorite song is your voice
My favorite move is the way you do
My favorite letter is u
Amanda Nov 2019
I see you everywhere but beside me,
the one place that I need you the most.
I don’t know if you’ve just felt like hiding,
but it feels like I’m being stalked by a ghost.
I think of my life consisting of just time biding,
with parasitic emptiness and I’m the host.
This hits me like waves I am meant to be riding,
and it follows me persistently from coast to coast.

The grass didn’t seem so green back then
I guess all that constant rain did pay off,
‘cause now this little future’s just a casual friend,
and my god looking back the past was soft.
It’s not like I always want to be drenched in sorrow,
I find I look much better in brown, blue or grey,
you know I’d trade in every tomorrow
for just one more yesterday.

I hear every voice but yours in my ears,
the deafening noise has made me forget that sound,
since I’ve heard that sweet melody it’s been too many years,
and every other pitch makes my static brain pound.
I’m always biting my lip but now I’m fighting tears,
I shake my head side to side and around.
I’m quickly losing stamina from battling my fears
and now looking forward to my hole in the ground.

The skies never seemed clear and blue back then,
it turns out that I was the creator of each cloud,
I’m hoarding past calendars so that I can pretend
that I’m back in time and making everyone else proud.
If you’ve got a hour or two that I can borrow,
I swear I’m good for it and whatever price; I’ll pay,
‘cause you know I’d trade in every tomorrow
for just one more yesterday.

I feel you all over, laced in everything,
if it wasn’t such a curse, it’d be a gift.
You’re the peace in winter and the hope in spring,
you’re the summer sun and autumn’s winds so swift.
I’m relieving every memory, looking for a place to cling,
I remember all of the details but the clarity is now adrift.
Side to side, back and forth, I constantly swing,
it pulls and drags me down but it can also give the highest lift.

The sun never seemed to shine right back then,
but maybe I was just too busy looking for artificial light.
I was never one for second looks but I should’ve searched again,
because everything I wanted was already in my sight.
So I plant a seed hoping it will eventually grow
and I sculpt all I wish for with clay,
‘cause you know I’d trade in every tomorrow
for just one more yesterday.
Day 15: post a poem written by somebody else that you love for whatever reason

This was the first one that I thought of when I read the prompt

Way behind btw I just kinda gave up on the 30 day timeline. Instead I'm finishing at my own pace
Mark Toney Nov 2019
His favorite protégée
Mentors her day by day
You are his curious delight
You're always affable
And so unflappable
Yes you're his favorite acolyte

Though your aura's sacred chic
Radiating cool mystique
Your life story does bespeak
Constant fight

His patronage for your art
Remains for you're his dear heart
Shine favorite protégée shine
Rejoice that your lives intertwine
11/22/2019 - Poetry form: Lyric - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2019
weak    rise    scars    spent    breeze    lungs    spirit    eat    teeth    car    shine    nature    died    veins    neck    top    moving    sat   loves    dry

the spent breeze rises up, moving,

****** into, ******* up air in our lungs
but yet still! the spirit weak,
the teeth useless chewing,
dry words mashing,
no eat, just pasty

the scars shine
like veins protruding from the top of a man’s neck,
looking like holes in a  rusted car that can’t never
shine no more,
once the breeze stops moving

he sat there while he slow died,
not moving,
nature and his loves
and his
skin slow dry texturized,


the spent breeze rises up, moving on...
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