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If you're into poetry and people who're into poetry, join the community to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
Swordlight sparkles on the moon of thoughts
Fragmented puffs of weary golden sparks
Ceaseless screams of brightened draughts
Caught on the night of a summer air

Withering life reborn from aught
Stunted knots reclaim what hath lost
Beaded beaks turn knead for naughts
Caught on the night of a summer air

And lay, hath I, crystal summer breeze
Sunlight blowing through dying trees
Feeling for long gone winter's freeze
Caught on the night of a summer air
17.09.2018
I think I'm trying to find what I've lost. It's fun anyway.
Beautiful summer night.
The old man got a doggy
He should have got a froggy
The doggy chews
The old man shoes
When it rain his feet get soggy
Once upon a time was I a prodigy,
Wandering and drifting to find a phrontistery,
A fantasy beyond thinking,
I was a child of precocious virtuosity.

But now time has liberated from my corpsic avatar,
And to God, I was announced a groom to a bride called progeria,
Not only I but now the entire human race seems to undergo ephemera,
A phenomena not to be taken dilemma,

Death do us part dear poet
Though through our good deeds our work serves eviternal, sempiternal-and eternal.
I know not who I am,
But the tombstone that is scarred with my name cements a legacy that
Buries everybody's histories.

Death is but void and will lead me to become  a martyr,
For I deeply believe that poetry is the finest art And  not a literature,
I am certain that a spiritual minister on the day of my burial will fail to point out that I was a sinister,
They will all say great things about me-
Where is the wrong, where is the perfect picture?


I once decapitated a seraph for I but thought it was a boobook,
Look!
Now I can be pseudocodenymic numerical, alphabetic artist.
Yet, what am I rather than being a poet?

For the reason that death will deprive me of my rights and belongings,
I don't wish to fall in love but sometimes I get caught up that she might be the daughter of Jesus,
Because I can't get my mind off her celestrial features.

Who else but her makes my story worth telling?
But yet I was in bedlam because of her,
Yelling like a certified lunatic playing,
I however can't forget the asylum's floors and ceilings,
The horrible medicine that got me to be always day dreaming.

Is this the same "cycle of psychopathic love that all these poets failed to describe?"
Affirmatively! This is something they will never outmatch,
Sadly, this all seeing sun never saw
That me and her were a match since this world begun,
Hence, I had to give her up to win everybody's heart,

I gained a voice of thunder to be crowned the darkness author alive,
So I ask,  where are the poets of yesteryear? The nail biting, acerbic, alcoholic nighthawk bastards who truly knew how to write?
WHERE IS WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE?  WHERE IS EMILY DICKINSON? WHERE IS EDGAR ALLAN POE?
indeed I outmatch them all, do you know why?
It's because I am still alive!
SeeBee 2d
My heart is just a body part
That pumps my blood around
So how come when I see you
It starts to pound and pound?

The sound of love is deafening
It booms and bumps about
A smile becomes a crazy grin
All logic just flies out

You eyes fix on mine
Your hand strokes me calm
Your laughter lifts my spirits
And soothes me like a balm

And when you read out poems
With glee and childish pleasure
The love that drives my blood around
Is impossible to measure

Just kiss me
Please
X
I'll be here for infinity x infinity
A penchant for curves like cursives
I say it in my verses
Vocab too wide for curses
Don't like likes
Fingers to whoever dislike
Like a vlogger: share, comment, and like
Oh yeah, subscribe
Fun, I prescribe
Right on time
Better late than never
Man of the hour
Original with the flavour
Chocolate and Vanilla
Black and grey
If you're too slow to comprehend
No résumé
No references
DIY my title says
Fickle fools play 'Simon Says'
Press remotes don't change but
Batteries can be replaced all the same
God - like
Holier - than - thou; Pope's attitude, beg for mercy
Self - driven, self - motivated
Ministering like Osteen
Light and dark
Yin & Yang
Angel or demon I can be
High off life
Limitless, no pills
I'm probably ill
Well it's my will
To count millions in $100 bills
Like ice, I chill
That's me, trill
And that's that
Suh bill

LanceSkiies
This one was whatever came to thought.
JP Goss 2d
As you flick the wand, one more time
Again in a 360 rotation, around,
From wall to door
Her lean torso serpentine coils, her mind cocked to spin
Memories she hasn’t felt since ancestors past
Nor this hunger for the hunt
Crouched low against the carpet fibers
Peeking through the lattice squares
The gaze, the stare, the pause
Of the dining chairs
The hunch, the pounce, the kill,
The finishing blow.
Grace and ferocity beyond what even Discovery could say
It’s all a game, illusion:
To catch is to win, but to catch will end the game
To chase is to win the excitement, but to lose?
But, ah, all is but frustrated
To lose, is the essence of the game
Chasing quantum excitations
Like that chance for a mouthful of pride
In pursuit
But a ghast, fleet of foot myth
She says in the semaphores of her midair leap
With delusions comes laughter,
I am the uninhibited one
Dancing for beasts.
Anya 3d
Once upon a time Optimism and Pessimism were going for a walk

Optimism said “oh what a beautiful day it is, I’m sure to get a lovely tan!”

Pessimism responded with “oh how the sun loves to blaze and burn our skin till it’s bare”

Optimism responded with “the birds are twittering a joyous song, their love for the new day is contagious!”

Pessimism responded with “what do you know of a bird’s language?  For all you know they could be mourning their dead children.”

Optimism said “Aah, what a lovely scent entices my nostrils! That aroma allows me to imagine the most delectable things!”

Pessimism responded with a grumble of his stomach, “the more you imagine the hungrier I get for the seemingly never arriving lunch hour I log for”

Their conversation continued in much the same manner until Optimism finally cried out, “Oh there is so much to appreciate here in our world, why must you look at the cup half empty!”

And Pessimism simply responded, “how can one see the glass as half full if there is not the possibility of it being half empty?”
I see carefree girls play and triumph in zest and fun
Their bubbly eyes can speak no more innocence
Their fringes and locks of blonde hair twirl around
In all lightness! They keenly feel the grass beside their feet.

When there was an empty trampoline beside them
They hurled! with mighty shout and fired the deepest seat
And jumped! without doubt or rue or cry or fury
Where childhood bends the need for drowsy yawns.

Away! They hurled on the nets! Their dumb skirts like garments flow!
Their red faces greeted each other: running, amidst the grass
Around the metal hoops and under the trees, forlorn and deep
The message of youth being played, battled before me!

I sit in baked silence: at the balcony in the noise of the distant cheers
The rally of Hope's victories - running times is so sweet!
I learn to love their youth so dear, when childhood wasn't fit for me
Pulling time as close to youth, how fleeting at dawn it is.
There once was a Fairy
Who lived in a magical world
Her sweet name was Mary
And she loved to be held

She loved to watch the stars
Twinkle brightly at night
Even though afar
They were a great sight

She watched the dusky sun
Rise early every morning
Whilst the birds would have fun
And humans were yawning

She skipped over lakes
Making the lake waters laugh
And fishes would wake
And give Mary a jacuzzi bath

She flew with Butterflies
And Dragonflies too
They ate custard pies
And egg foo foo

She made her own dress
From red autumn leaves
She was nicknamed The Best'
By all the lovely trees

She wore spaghetti hoops
In her long golden hair
And jumped through potholes loops
To explore natures flair

She'd slide down mountains
Rainbows as well
She brewed coffee in fountains
And rang a lunch time forest bell xx
Fun fairy story x
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