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Ms Noma Jun 2018
Our first date,
Our first meet;
So very quaint,
At gentle speed.

Watched a film,
Watched your face,
And quiet skill
To woo with grace.

I knew not
My heart fell;
That blood would clot
Under your spell.

Please do note,
It was not
My plan to dote
Once you forgot.

It just is
At the end;
I sorely miss
Calling you friend.
Anne May 2018
I don’t know your favourite colour
Or what you sing in the shower.
But I want to.

You’re a stranger,
Yet you held my hand and told me everything you thought of
And all I forgot to think of.

You kissed me,
With your scary hazel eyes
Following my every emotion.
I still don’t know how to feel.

You’re a stranger,
Yet you have a name,
Eight siblings,
A love for Harry Potter.

You have a smile that really does make me feel ****.
How can you be so calm?
How can you feel so sure of who you are and what you want?

You’re a stranger,
But not for long.
Even if there are no more kisses,
I want to know what you think about alone at night;
how you like your tea.

I want to know every inch of your soul,
Because if you can see even an ounce of good in me,
You must be a sort of dreamer
Pixie Ellis Apr 2018
Dear Cute Boy At The Party,

It was nice meeting you. Again.

I bet you didn’t know you were the first person I ever flirted with. I bet you didn’t know I prepped for this date for a week. I bet you didn’t know how much my heart soared when you asked me out.

Thank you for telling me that I have a cute laugh. Thank you for telling me how much you wanted to see me again before I even left. Thank you for walking me back to the station.

It was nice talking to you.

I know when you complained about the chair, it was just an excuse to sit next to me. I know you want L to like you back. I know you deserve someone who treats you better.

It was nice that you finally messaged me, a week after the party.

But I bet you didn’t know how quickly I accepted the fact I’d never see you again. That I’ve already wrote you two poems and that I’m sat listening to the songs you recommended to me. Thank you for making me realise that the right guy will come along, but not right away. I thought I’d just be that girl at the party who’s name you can’t remember, or face you can’t place, but I was wrong.  

It was nice meeting you.

I‘m excited to see you again next week.

— p.d.e
I went out on a date with cute boy from the party, last night.
YUKTI Mar 2018
I was waiting for him on the escalator on one side of the road 
My Heart pumped at the highest rate when all at once realized abode.

Saw him looking generously dashing riding a scooter
He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans and his hair were messy but modish.
And here I was standing in my usual tank top and jeans,
hair tied in a messy ponytail
just then He saw me, waved And parked his vehicle near my usual bus stop
I walked to his way with my bag full of books.


We sat on the bench and started random talks about everything except what we thought about.  
He then started using his phone and I was beginning to feel ignored. He on a spur of moment stopped and stared me and mentioned about our chats and phone calls
"How it started"
"How it became more Frank and comfortable"
"How good friends we became online but never met in real life" strange isn't it?

Then I told him I have to leave and the 'awkward silent moment' and he finally spoke "yeah"

We shook our hand and he refused to let me go
So I smiled and left his hand and eye contact and stood in the row

The bus started moving and I saw him standing there only, shrugging his shoulder and leaving that place.

That was my first and last with him or anyone!!
Your comments are always appreciated.
In retrospect - yeah - maybe she should have known something was off about the whole thing.  

The handsome popular hockey player guy who had never spoken to her before - and was in none of her classes or activities - approaching her at her locker out of nowhere one afternoon - and asking her out on a date?  Definitely unexpected.  Nobody had ever asked her out before.  

(In retrospect) maybe slightly strange that she knew who he was - everyone did - but she had no idea how he knew who she was. She was pretty but extremely shy - not even popular within the social circles of AP classes and orchestra that she did quietly frequent, almost like a ghost. But she could rationalize it.  Things like this happened in the movies right?

Handsome hockey guy wanting to surprise her about where they were going to go but telling her she should wear something nice like a dress or skirt?  

(In retrospect) a little weird considering that they didn't even know each other - hadn't really even had a real conversation yet - but maybe he was trying to impress her by going somewhere fancy?

The surprise location of the date turning out to be the empty dollar movie theater downtown to see Home Alone 3?

(In retrospect) really disappointing - at first.  Disappointing dissolving into terrifying as she spent the duration of the terrible movie pushing back his hand from a slow but persistent ascent up the skirt she had bought especially for this night - her first date ever.

Asking him to drive her home after the movie but he - to her horror - driving to a nearby park instead?

He - pushing his mouth onto hers despite her starting to cry and fighting to get away and begging to be driven home?

He - breaking out of whatever trance he was in - angry but at least finally yielding - condescendingly asking her "Don't you think you owe me something for taking you out?"

He - finally driving her home - telling her that nobody would believe her if she told anyone about this?

(In retrospect) she - knowing that she was lucky that night to have only lost her trust in humanity?
Bo Marie Jan 2018
I point to the stars,
you say they're in my eyes.
I laugh and brush it off this time.

We're here at night,
but I miss the sun.
You tell me you are looking at one.

I ask you what your favorite planet is,
and then you do the same.
My butterflies are getting harder to tame.

I'd love to go to outer space,
see all the planets and the stars.
It's time to leave though now, so you walk me to the car.
first date in an alternate universe
Jas Nov 2017
At the beginning of the date he wanted sushi,
I wanted a large pizza with extra cheese that sounded like, "No thanks, not hungry."
It was cold outside and it was raining
So naturally we opened up the window as far as it would go -
He quickly lit the panda candle near the window
as if the spark came straight from his fingers
And all I could think was, "****. Even with the wind the candle is still lit. This is my guy."
It was romantic and slow and I was a **** fool,
****** in
Feeling like I'm falling after four days.
A little conversation and some food later, I could suddenly make out the width and length of his eyelashes -
"Oh ****. He's leaning in."
His hand surfed the curves and waves of my hip,
My entire body felt like a magnet towards his and
Having felt it all
I chalked it up to friendship
While thinking and dreaming of my "friend" wondering how
How could I have been such a fool?
I broke his heart and mine too.
Irene Poole Oct 2017
Playing the waiting game
Each one dancing around the other
Uncertainty building like a storm cloud with each passing
Second
Minute
Moment
Is this real?
Was this whole thing a child's game
Cat and mouse?
Crickets sing their song to the moon
Cars pass
The empty parking lot bathes in street lamp glow
What happens now?
Waiting for someone to show up for a first-time meeting is a feeling that puts me on edge. So I thought I'd write about it.
Lucius Furius Aug 2017
It promised to be quite ordinary,
that old student/new student/faculty social hour.

I had come to Champaign with high hopes a year earlier,
starting a new career (--and hoping to find someone to love).
Now, with just three months left,
my studies had been a success,
but I had not found anyone to love.
And now I was thinking beyond Champaign:
where I would go, what I would do with my new degree.

I scanned the faces in the crowd.
Mixed in with all-too-familiar classmates and teachers were new people:
A formidable, blonde-haired woman
with a big voice and a large imitation pearl necklace;
no meek, retiring librarian here; a Valkyrie.
A guy with wire-rimmed glasses in his early twenties;
congenial, but serious; he had studied engineering.
A girl; stylish, extroverted;
loved Faulkner; engaged to be married.
A sensitive, thirty-ish woman; recently divorced;
her ex had stuck her with a mountain of credit card debt.
And you, in a pink dress.
No jewelry, not much makeup.
Nice figure.
Very simple, very pretty.
A wonderful smile.
Obviously bright.
You had gone here as an undergraduate.
You had taught school in Iowa for several years
and now were back to get a Library degree.
You had grown up on a farm.
You were eminently lovable.
You were, amazingly, unmarried.

I felt that I was at an art exhibition in nineteenth century France.
Here was Raffaelli's "Boulevard of the Italians"
which had sold for 500 francs.
Over here Lecomte de Nouy's "Ramses in His Harem"
which had brought 1900.
And over here in the corner, neglected,
Van Gogh's, "The Artist's Room at Arles".
I felt like shouting,
"My friends, can't you see the beauty of this painting:
its simplicity and purity, its energy; the symphony of its colors!
You have opted for these smooth, conventional paintings
and left this one, the most valuable of all, unsold. . . ."

I felt like hugging you, right then and there.

You were number two or three on my all-time "instant attraction" list.
But I was wary -- so many others had not worked out, why would you?

Our first date was a "Streetcar Named Desire".
I put my arm around you during the play and held your hand as we walked back    toward your apartment.
I invited you to "Bubby and Zadie's" cafe. You refused and offered no alternative.
I was devastated. So this, too, would come to nothing.
We would walk the three blocks back to your apartment.  We would say    goodnight.
I would go home and cry. That would be that.

But when we arrived, my hopes soared: you invited me up to your apartment. You really just didn't like Bubby and Zadie's -- and you liked and trusted me well enough that the intimacy of your apartment didn't seem inappropriate. We talked for a long time and kissed. When I left, all traces of wariness were gone. The coming weeks would not be ordinary.
Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem: humanist-art.org/audio/SoF_058_champaign.MP3 .
This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems ( https://humanist-art.org/scrapsoffaith.htm )
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