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love is a bouquet
filled with the bloom's embrace
of scented flowers
Everyone is afraid of a clown,
but
we all are acting like clowns.
Afraid of ourselves.
The year, 2020.
WE became a world filled with foolish clowns and serpents.
Now i guess we know where these clowns get their sharp teeth from.
Bite and poison the blood within, make us all sick.
Cry, scream and slowly watch us all die in sweet agony.
Thank you dear government for tormenting God's sweet world.
Greedy and selfishness has taken over life.
Tricksters too.
This world has become nothing but clowns dressed in silly suits to impress and pursuit.
the corona threatened

the time was red

the hearts were downed

at bottom of covered

that fear with filled
fear from everything, touch, breath . that is not good
annh May 21
Buttered parcels filled,
With rose hips and cinnamon;
Heartache’s antidote.

‘Only the pan knows
how the boiling soup feels.’
- Laura Esquivel, Like Water for Chocolate
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is filled with what-ifs
Irony
trf Mar 12
sewing time together,
we scribe our narrative,
your lace stitches leather,
like a seamstress.

failures don't forget me,
i'm their stone to engrave,
designed imperfections
and a chiseled face.

close enough to notice,
constellations are yarn,
unthreading in the distance,
these days seam apart.
Amanda Dec 2019
We have spent every Thanksgiving
United the past 5 years
Don't know what your plans are today
I know you're not spending it here

Looking backwards twelve months ago
The place I've come to despise
Compared to now is not all that much worse
Both are still getting high

Though at the time seemed like life
Was not anything more than broken
Feel like a fool for not appreciating
Sweet words no longer spoken

Strangely discover myself wondering
If I stayed would we be at peace?
Miss your presence more than you know
Without my heart is missing a piece

I have holes inside my heart
Kind that can't be filled with food
Mistakes
Regrets
And shame instead
Of turkey being chewed
Written last year on Thanksgiving
Tollan Dec 2019
A handle is hard to describe
But in this thought I'll try

I am, with or without you
You do not have final say
My spine is strong and head still firm
Alas, I am just clay
My shoes without lace, and yet
A handle is not needed,
To keep me in place.

My function to do, is done without you
A servant of service I stay
I do not jest but I cannot fray
I just dont need your
Disfigured clay.

With you i am heavy but freeier than before.
You make my job easier, the job that is to pour

I can live without you babe,
Just wish that you had stayed
My life will go on
Your handle will be replaced.
Nik Bland Dec 2019
My head is filled to the brim
Packed brainstems
Maybe that’s why I take you straight to heart
Truths whispered and held in cupped hands
Like butterflies, then released
See where they land and the clarity they impart
You words are vast galaxies
Mystical, colorful imagery
Like melted crayons pouring from the fount of your mouth
Dripping into molds making wax elephants
Heavy words trumpeting sentiments
That I may never ever truly figure out
Eyes that speak paragraphs upon chapters upon volumes
Upon libraries
And I am only a syllable in the commentary
Fill the empty crevices of a heart once on fire
Long since expired
And give this charred thing new life, incendiary
Make this full mind empty every bit but you
Clear the queue
So I might feast on more than these offerings of crumbs
Minds will always be filled and filling
And full
But the the choice of what’s ingested is the rule of thumb

Wonder-filled
I don’t think I’ve written a poem that has stimulated my brain so much. This has my head spinning a bit. Hope you enjoy...
Jules Oct 2019
I said I'm fine
But I need time
To clear my mind
Ironically filled with you
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