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Leia Spencer Jan 2019
Her favorite flower was daisies
But I didn't know
Until I was told
To place them on her grave
-theres a reason I think favorite flowers are important
This poem is for my mom that died when I was really young. I was the only person that knew what her favorite colors were, but I never knew the flowers she wanted to have at her funeral. I guess it still sticks with me
Iz Dec 2018
You don’t like to pick favorites
You dont like to narrow your interests down to one
That should have been my warning
I coundnt be your only love
Jack L Martin Aug 2018
Do you really like my poem?
Does it make you stop an think?
As you read down through the prose
does it reek and start to stink?

Did you click the "like" button
Because you thought it might
Boost ratings for your own verses
well, dam it!  that's not Right!

I joined this site
To make things right
with stuff inside my mindset

If your "like"
is true in heart
I thank you for your kindness!

Please move along
Don't get me wrong
I do not like pretenders

Or selfish acts
that serve the purpose
To promote your own agendas

Take some time now
to reflect
on all your true intentions

If what I write
is not your style
Then post your own inventions!

In closing
I would like to say
I thank you for your time

If cheating is
your true intention
You'll suffer for your crime!
Seanathon Mar 2018
My favorites are named like Midnight Rain, with Marshmallow toffee in the Skye.

Beneath Weeping Willow dreams a dream, of Elizabeth and her Squires.

Midst the Rose's Kelly is always found, neath the Sun and Princess shine.

Untill the Star's BG in the background be, glow these favoring words of mine
@weepingwillow @midnightrain @marshmallowskye @kellyrose @elizabethsquires @sunprincess @starbg
SwordNPen Aug 2017
Eden green eyes,
strawberry red lips,
soft bronze skin,
and spools of ebony
hair that brush her
shoulders. '
A bubbly laugh,
a light touch,
an impish smile,
a queens body,
and a twisted sense
of humor.
If you some how find this poem and think its about you it is.
                                                                                         -SNP
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
I call my shoes doxies
'Cause they really get around
Just like the hookers
In the sleaziest part of town.
They started out rather nice
But now they show their years.
They look so much better
After you’ve had a couple beers.

Come with me, Doxies.
Let's us take us a stroll
To a cheap bar I know.
Not much money in my roll.
I need to meet the kind of gal
Who won't look at my feet
And think I am cool enough
To wink at her on the street.

I still have some swagger left
From when my shoes were new,
And I can still bust some moves
With a fancy step or two.
The shine on my Doxies has not
Stayed as they were long ago
But I'm sure they'll serve me well
For maybe another year or so.

My Doxies are a bit beat up,
But still they have some verve;
Just enough class that we
Can throw a hot babe a curve.
So don't look down on my Doxies;
They're the only shoes I've got.
They get me where I need to go
And I really like them a lot.
Arcassin B Dec 2016
By Arcassin Burnham


Two crossed lovers with one common goal,
To find their way to each other and bind their souls in gold,
I was told , to find a woman with a peaceful heart,
Must've told myself that , cause nobody would enroll,
The facts of life to be a man and understand all of the urges,
Now stuck in a time where I gotta give myself more courage,
My family always had a hand in all of my contingencies,
I hope these ignorant complacent people stop trying me,
When I have a child of my own, he or she will have the advantage to
Learn things on their own , he or she will know the meaning of respect when
It condones,
He or she will know there won't be any favorites on this throne,
They don't have to know about their grandmother,
Does it bother me in any way to never let my kids see the woman
That should've gave me more love,
Or the woman that locked me away when I needed someone to
Go to , but I had no one,
Thats why I'm leaving everyone,
Bye.
©ABPoetry2016
http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/12/bye-1.html
[6]
raindrops from above
forming into clouds; ignites
twice—the spark of joy
The color Blue and Ice cream, the food :D

© Cyrille Octaviano, 2016
Breeze-Mist Jul 2016
My favorite juxtaposition
Is when a city goes totally silent
When the widest streets are empty
And the only sounds are quiet

The bustling stores are still closed
And no one else is walking around
The city looks amazingly different
With only a few men in the ground

The buildings stand tall and silent
While those up late tuck in for the night
And the earliest risers have yet to awake
To meet the ever blinking lights

The signs are as bright as ever
And the lights still work 'round the clock
But not a single bike, car, or man
Can be seen on the city block

I stand on the silent street corner
Feeling the moment rush through me
For stunningly empty cities
Are some of my favorite places to be
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