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everything is wrong and i don't know what to do
every time i think of "him" i only think of you
of all the words spat from my mouth i don't know what is true
for you are now a nightmare
where is the man i knew?
Zandrew 4d
She reminds me of winter frost on the morning grass
With a voice like snow powder in the breeze and ice crystals for eyes
That first morning inhale of sweet cool air, that wakes your lungs
That first deep breath when  your senses flood you in the morning
Maybe loves not flowers, rainbows and sunshines
But snow angels, ice crystals and frosty mornings
closed door waiting for the cold
pending pending frosts pending
huge waiting behind and ahead waiting
waiting for cold and light of light
from somewhere from earth from
somewhere from the sky and lightning
to be around and heavy rain
so that the sun finally disappeared from
the shoulders and disappeared

every day behind a closed window behind closed doors
knocking knocking me a frosty frosty man
man he tells me about frost and snow everywhere
he already has everything and only we have it all and no
here we sit in the hot hot sun which is not no temperature
absolute nothing too much sun and it's autumn

I know there are ships somewhere and there are islands lost
and I know there is ice there they swim all swim but let's
where are you all from where are the penguins from
where is ice cream where does all this
all this all this bright circle
you walk on the asphalt feet offended you look at the sky
and all already flowing I broke up we are cold we are cold people
we have cold but not often in the eyes but love kills

05.10.18
Amare Leslie Sep 21
What a sight to see
Frosty minuscule snowflakes
melt on my tongue
in the spring.
Sean M O'Kane Sep 12
Robert Frost once talked of taking the ‘road less travelled’.
Well, I didn’t.
When the time came, I blindly went and took the safest road.
A very long path where the pitfalls were plenty.
I stumbled in the bracken. Stymied by the darkness that fell quickly as I ambled along.
The soul bruised, battered and exhausted at every infrequent stop.
It was not apparent then that in this venture there was a bleak dead end ahead.
I plowed on even though something inside was telling me again and again to turn back.
But, slowly, a gleaming light of hope crossed my vista beckoning me home.
I crawled. My strength regained as the light intensified.
Then the end was in sight - the portal was within grasp.
And so, yes, I now take that road less travelled.
Standing tall and proud as I gleefully stride down its glowing thoroughfare.  
Smiling at the diverse and playful changes that cross my pathway.
All told, it’s never too late to trust your instincts and make a difference.
Just ask me.
And Robert Frost.
Wellspring Sep 10
I stand on this roof,
Gazing upon the twilight world,
The faces of passersby,
Shrouded by veils of stars and night.

I play my song of eerie trills;
The highs,
The lows,
This sickeningly sweet lullaby,
Carrying all into the comforting embrace,
Of midnight slumber.

This swooping melody,
My warm, but shuddering breath
breathes life into the frost covered flute,
Cradled in my ice cold hands.

My breath,
My life,
Heard by all,
But me.
This is kinda about my insomnia? But, make what you will of it.
Thera Lance Sep 7
Quote that black bird for me,
Cause I don’t have the time.
I’m too busy deciding
Whether great snowfalls will end it all
Or balls of fire this time.
And I attempt to parody Poe and Robert Frost and probably fail miserably.
The dose of smoke I consume to lighten my soul, exits the lungs.
Feelings of sadness, regret. I am left unhappy from my decisions.
I am left opened up bleeding out, staining the concrete.
All I have is this negative introspection,
An “Idea”of self hate.
I want your soft sweet love.
I want my best friend back.
The ideas of our future playback endlessly, a constant buzzing ringing in my ears.
I focus on my darkest moment. I am forced to reflect on the pain I’ve caused the both of us.
God Damn I would give anything to talk. I would give my life to be with you again.

Everything reminds me of you.
You’re in my music, in my writing, in my food, in my stories.
I’m Losing all my emotions to “The Size of The Moon”.
We should forget these setbacks and get back moving again.
Because I know what I am afraid of;
I know that I am absolutely and utterly terrified of this being the end of the road.

That we reached the two paths in that yellow wood.
That I forced us to take separate roads of travel. I finally have learned, One decision makes all the difference.

Both roads are less traveled when we walk the alone.
Madeline Renee Tidwell you’re my everything and I will do anything I need to do to get better and fix this.
Once I thought to myself
that Frost was right,
that free verse was like
playing tennis without a net.

But sometimes reading Bukowski
is like looking into Chapman's Homer
for the first time
and I think of writing
as an organic process
like cum-stained thank you notes
and Spanish bones.

I think I enjoy poetry the most
when I'm not thinking about it at all,
the way the deep sea makes a sound
that can't be heard
but we all see the rain
and feel the cold on our skin.

It's just something that happens
like an orgasm
or a suicide
or a murder
like weeping in a pillow
when no one is looking.
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