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Sharon Talbot Jun 2020
At fourteen I learned to sail—
The difference between true wind and gale.
I learned that babies do not come from prayer
And wondered if we were all wanted,
As my mother often said.
At fourteen, I stopped myself from caring
What kids on the bus thought of me,
Or whether I ate school lunch alone.
How unnecessary had been all that fear,
When I learned that I liked myself
Without their praise.
At fourteen, I learned that other girls
Cared only about pimply boys
And the dates, rings and ownership each claimed.
What a small, unexceptional life, I thought!
But at fourteen, I was too selfish
To pity them, much less humor their desires.
At fourteen, I realized that my dad was imperfect,
When he dodged the excise tax on his car.
Did he commit this tiny sin to rebel
Against an unappreciative wife,
Or did he feel the vicissitudes of life
As I had just begun to do?
At fourteen, the world was opening
Like a lotus flower in a teacup,
Soon to spill over and fill my soul
With longing for passion and logic,
But for something else ineffable.
I would find in later years
That the wanting itself could be enough
To stir those depths into song or quiet joy.
Of all the things in my soul and mind
And in the world beyond, I would learn,
That the only absolute is inexplicable—
The only perfect, human thing is love.
Sarah Crispin Jun 2020
ruckus riot, rumble quiet
cackle kind of joy
mis-made master, quaint disaster
angel soft tom boy
locking knees, smiling teeth
begging time for change
freckled furrows, pained tomorrow’s
living for some days
speak up little blue bird haze
whiplash on your tongue
saving up your sunshine rays
to pierce or blind someone
Randy Johnson May 2020
Something bad happened in 1990 on the 28th of May.
It turned out not to be such a great Memorial Day.
I saw a very beautiful girl who looked like she was sixteen or seventeen.
She was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen.
I wrote a note and put it in her storm door.
She was younger than I thought and her parents were pretty sore.
She was only fourteen, that was four years younger than me.
They told me to leave her alone and I agreed.
But I really liked her and it was painful not to be able to date her.
I wonder who she's with all these years later.
izzy Jun 2019
Some time in may
Last year, 2018
It was a warm day
I was thirteen

You said you didn't want me
You broke my heart and changed me
But that's not the end

I thought I'd never finish
Being thirteen
To die was my dearest wish
But I turned fourteen

You may have broke my heart
But it fixed on its own
You messed me up real smart
Now my hearts on airplane mode

Won't let anything in
That includes memories of you
I'm going to win
I will forget how I loved you

You you you you you
On my mind
Me me me me me
Please be kind

To yourself
You're still alive
Look at you
Heart still going

My heart's on airplane mode
At least it's still beating
Living on my own
No more feeling
Thought I'd be dead by now really I did pretty proud I'm still here hehe
keneth May 2019
hang my smile
and trap it in four;
enclosed with a glass
a love forever trapped in colours

an unending curiosity;
hang me on your shoulders
sketch my tears into a sweat
recolour me, blue, that blooms forever

pigmented rays of levels of feelings
a purple haze painted unintentionally
but you decided gradients weren't true
you said that love just wasn't for you

so just hang my smile
and you'll leave me hanging
paint another picture of me
with a love that's trapped in colours
a piece of art that fell in love with his observer / peculiar
Mary-Eliz Apr 2018
seven pennies
fourteen dimes
two friends visit
candy shop

sweet smiles
candy bar
I don't know if $1.47 would buy a candy bar big enough to share, but wanted to try this form with 7 for number of lines, 14 for number of words, two for the break into two parts. Not sure it fits the part about creating pictures. (Thanks, Apricot, for introducing the form :-)
BC Jaime Mar 2018
is how long
it took the

the whole while
we breathed into

pumping your still
chest, counting

we brought you
back for a

our eyes met
you gave us

to let you
go but we’re

and never stopped
breathing, compressions

pupils dilated, stained
bed and us

[Note: This poem was originally published by Cadence Collective:]
© BC Jaime 2014 || IG: @B.C.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit
Jean Lewis Feb 2018
Trust this once, I be honest
If naught, I be your detest
I request... see not my best
Lest, you see my life's a mess.

Knight nor angel be my fame
Yet demon may be my name
For I am void, all the same
Might once, the beast has been tame.

Read your "Words," few times over
Feeling this guilt forever
Hoping I was better
"I'm sorry..." speaks my letter.

Know not, if I caused you smile
Only knew, I made you cry;
I bear not a will so vile
"Forgive me..." for much I pry.

Laziness, I call father
Fallacy be my brother
But trust, pain too my teacher
And hatred my named lover.

I come in princely garment
Yet, naught stranger to torment
Believe... this time I lament
I too was broken and bent.

And as you read this seventh,
Naught deadly sin nor Godsent
Please wait... make way for the eighth
I hope you come not I to hate.

'Til eight day, my feelings last
"Til thirteenth hour, I stand fast
At world's end, I turn to dust
Your sake, I accept all cuss...

By no means, am I kidding
You're pretty, I'm not lying
You know, I'm at your bidding
Your smile, beauty undying...

Your hair not black but silky
And eyes that shine so brightly
Thy skin looking so dewy
You're extraordinary...

There are times when you're silly
Know that I will set you free
Ask I, try look at what I see
You're truly perfect to me.

Trust me, need not you be strong
I am here for you lifelong
And give me a bit of prong,
Then I will prove the world wrong.

Know that I have found a clue
Right now, I give you my cue
Too deep, too much, too hard, too?
I only wish to be true...

Warmer red and cooler blue
A purple rose is your hue
Beauty be gone, without "U"
I am always here for you...
This Fourteenth, I am Honest
-Jean Lewis
boringwonderland Dec 2017
even at only fourteen years old,
I would finish bottles to myself
the amount wouldn't fit on a shelf
I got too drunk, to be bold
I thought my friend might help
but the last thing I remember
is being led into a chamber
by the opposite gender
I tried to rip my hand away
it didn't phase him
he pushes me on the bed
and then everything goes black
I wake up with puke in my hair
I was alone and bare
I was hurting
it was burning
my stomach turning
he gives me a warning
last night was fun
I had bruises
I want to run
out of my body
I shower until my whole body is ******
but five years later and I do not feel clean
everyone there had seen
what he did to me
not one single word was spoken about it
they let it be
Jikai Zheng Nov 2017
I blame you for making me write all these sonnets
I tried to make the best of it, but five?
How in the ******* world am I supposed to write five?
Doesn’t each sonnet take the course of a week?
And it definitely seems that we don’t have five weeks
To write five pristine perfect sonnets
I’d rather read fifty poems than write five of these stupid things
I’d like the meet the man who decided these poems
Had to be fourteen lines, stylized rhymes
I’d say, go to hell with you and this torturous format
Instead of making me write these many poems
All in the same style, all droaning on in my mind
Like an endless treadmill of poem-writing
I say I’ll do better on the next assignment, but truthfully
I’m improvising
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