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Delyla Nunez Feb 2021
Log on,
Be the character,
Enjoy another world unlike this one.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I've always dreamed of adventure, but now, I'm not so sure.
I grew up playing video games and playing pretend in the woods.
What I would've given to be Link with my own legendary quest.
But these are turbulent times.
Between my anxiety and the businessman-president and his blue-bird threats and the media, honestly, I'd rather curl up in a ball and stay inside my house forever.
But the truth is, no one ever caught a crocodile by hiding in their
house.
It takes real bravery.
And while I've got problems staring me down like I'm deadmeat,
I've got to be a crocodile hunter. I have to.
It's the only way to free the princess trapped inside.
This poem aged well —ha! Guess I got my wish to stay indoors! I caused COVID-19, so feel free to cancel me, I guess!
This poem was written in 2016.
there's secrets, hidden beneath the corduroy
a world of wonder
where admission varies
guest to guest,
it's a game of guess
at whether you're let in
or you're like the rest,
corduroy's the fashion though
for sure
they'll be others
that hold you high up
just to push you down under
Jason R Michie Feb 2021
Are you looking for the hook,
That you just know is inside that worm?

Would you eat an apple,
Before giving it a hundred turns?

Could you have a bite of fish,
Without looking for a bone?

Would you tear down your house,
To be sure termites haven't made it a home?

If offered a spoon of honey,
Would you bee seeking the hive?

If you saw a cloud with a silver lining,
Would you smelt it down, looking for '925'?

Are you searching for a game,
Because you expect a player?

Do you think I'm the Monopoly guy?
Is it the suit, the cane, or the lack of hair?

🎩
👨‍🦳
🧥
© 02/22/21 Jason R. Michie All Rights Reserved

Dibs on the racecar!
maria Feb 2021
If you care just tell me
I'm tired
and confused
Tired of games

Written on Febuary 14, 2021
© ,Maria
Tatiana Feb 2021
She looks unwell.

Bruises under her eyes
purple with no sleep.
I doubt she rests now.

She is getting worse.

You see her eyes moving
beneath their lids.
The panic settles in.

She is dying.

She shouldn't have gone on
that walk in the rain.
It was cold, so cold.

She is cold.

And pale like light
from a waning moon;
a crescent frown.

She is dead.

No breath stirs her chest.
Place your hands beneath
her stiffening body.

Light as a feather
Stiff as a board
Light as a feather
Stiff as a board
Light as a feather
Stiff as a board


Lift on the count of three
So her spirit will be free.
©Tatiana

remember that game you used to play as children? Yeah, *** was that about?
Jayme Feb 2021
Why oh why,
Must you tell me lies?
Word after word,
my trust in you dies.
With callousness I cope,
I've lost all hope.
You were so much fun,
We had a good run,
But this fling is finished,
So quickly diminished.
Boy what a shame,
You just had to play games..
Blueberries blossom-trees,
Clouds made of soap-bubbles,
Creamy grass and foamy bushes
Of roses blue, purple and grey,
Grapes of red and Orange,
Wines of crystal clear greens,
Red-irises to tell of feelings
Too hot or too sad
Burning hues in a phtograph back home,
Where I don't want to go;
Chariots dragged by stallions
And spaceahips to take us to explore
Other natures...
No poverty, no suffering...
No twisted games,
Just peace...
Guns not allowed here.
Sarah Flynn Feb 2021
we grew flowers
in our garden
when I was a kid.

we had tulips
and daffodils and
forget-me-nots.

my friend taught me
how to play the
forget-me-not game.

I'd pull off one petal
and say "he loves me."

I'd pull off the next
and say "he loves me not."

but I learned quickly
that there were only
five petals on every
one of those flowers.

if I started with
"he loves me,"
he would always
love me at the end.

if I started with
"he loves me not,"
he would never
love me at the end.



the other day,
I thought about
those forget-me-nots

and I laughed at how
ironic that is now.

I knew what type
of man you were.

I already knew how
we were going to end,

but I still chose to
play your game.
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