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Lily May 16
The first glance from your striking blue eyes
Made me weak in the knees
And your shy smile made my
Cheeks two pink roses.
~You walked in and my heart went BOOM!~

The noises of the coffee shop fade into
The background when you speak, because
Your voice flows like honey in my ear,
Telling me all of the things I want to hear.
~I’m helpless!~

A soft goodnight and your lips on my cheek,
Your coconut scent that I never wish would leave,
Your hands in mine, as they look on with
Jealous eyes.
~I just might regret that night for the rest of my days~

Sunlight swirling in pillars around you as you
Spin on the shore, your laughter scaring the
Seagulls away but bringing me closer to you,
As we walk away from the group but closer to each other.
~We could be enough~

I will never forget the first time I saw your
Hand in hers, and I prayed to God,
“Just take me now”,
Because I felt like I could be nothing without you.
~This is not a game~

I know I will walk these same
streets in later years and remember
your arm laced with mine and
Push away the thought of you with her.
~It's quiet uptown…~

Your arms around her squeeze
My heart like a boa constrictor;
But unlike the snake, you aren't
Even aware of the hurt you are causing.
~I will never be satisfied~
I had the privilege of seeing the musical Hamilton this last weekend, and the lyrics inspired me to write this narrative.  The Hamilton lyrics are between the squiggly lines :) Let me know what you think!
Kay-Rosa Apr 28
Focused on this tim'd delay,
Never knowing what to say,
Figuring out what might remain,
My ****** sky became,
And it spelled my name
It started insane,
Golden rain,
Passenger train,
Aquitane could be home.
But, inside my brain
There's a charlemagne,
A superficial middle cerebral vein,
Pounding and pulsating, keeping things in their lane
Constantly trying to ruin my game,
Crushing my whispering campaign,
But between my ruffed feathers, is my vibrissae
My bristl'd down, my come-in-and-stay,
My soft spot just for you,
"You set my heart aflame,
Every part aflame,
This is not a game."
You say,
trying my patience, pushing the timeframe
Carv'd in the window frame,
That premature hall of fame,
is our name.
All the voices and their claims,
"We'll always be there,
just beneath your vibrissae."
This is pretty much stream of consciousness.
Leia Spencer Feb 6
When I was young
I would spend hours
Braiding and undoing
My thick golden hair
Now that I’ve grown
I pull strands of sunlight
Out of the sky
To braid the golden strings
Into a crown
And claim my rightful place
After all, I wasn’t named Leia for nothing
-waiting to be recognized as a general instead of a princess
It was all practice for the real deal
Will Bittner Nov 2018
Hamilton tickets...
Body parts you don't need?
I can sell an arm...
It's a haiku. Deal with it.
CK Baker Apr 2017
Sunday sermons are spilling on the inner city streets
through the green heaps and brown bags
through the downtown whisperers
and sage solitude souls

Army bands prepare for march
(their trench members filling packs with canister and cane)
the high command and tricked militia head pinned
quick on the look for splinter, lorry and skuttle

Traffic patterns change at the COP connect
camouflage bearers break formal stride
battle men slip between colorful floats
unsuspecting slumlords (vein pricked and weary)
grin in their second suite dying rooms

Twitching men and rubbernecks
sit discreetly on the corner wall
JJ and the chief revere a 21 gun salute
holy rollers raise cheer (in a moment of silence)
chess men hold steady
with ivory cues

Flames belt from the distant foundry
streets come alive with crackle and dust
members of the attic group glance down from their perch
an elderly man in a straight jacket (happy in the now)
sits solemnly with a cold reflective stare

It’s not far from the steely mud holes
from the flying fragments and sharp broken dreams
from the arsenal digs and madmen (who quietly turned the *****)
the ivy trellis
and flowing white gown
are a nocturne fit
for this elevated rolling highland
Nicole Louise Jun 2018
Out stretching
Out reaching
The callused, bleeding hands
Of tightly gripping on.

The permantly furrowed brow,
Weathering a face which has seen too much.
The innocent eyes try,
But are clouded over.

His everyday grows like a plane
flying over
Dunkirk dawn
Guns drawn.

His green home
Of west is best
And his voice would flow
With a carefree blow

which has blown
to fragments.

His streets turned red
When in November they would tred
To remember
Those who bled
Now they are only spotted

Every year dearer
Washing away.
Based on a photograph of a veteran.

With a little Hamilton inspiration...
Jey Blu Dec 2017
Why does time pass more slowly when we want it to go faster?
Dripping like molasses
Flowing like tar
s l o w e r
s   l   o   w   e   r
Time freezes
"No beat, no melody"
As they say in that famous play
Hamilton never stopped
Until that bullet made him
Sometimes I wish Aaron Burr would shoot me in the same way
Time is killing me
But not fast enough
It's the waiting that does it
But what am I waiting for?
A reason to be dead?
A reason to be alive?
A reason to have a reason?
A reason.
That's what we're waiting for.
I wonder what mine is.
Feliz G Jan 2017
Burned all the memories,
Left all the ashes.
Foolish of me
To keep looking back again.

Tired of all your answers,
Covered in lies.
Can't you just tell me the truth?
The truth which I've been longing since I've...

Shattered the past,
Left all the pieces.
The mirror reflecting on all I've done
In my life.
Wowza, where did this come from? Welp, I tried singing along, trying to remember the lyrics to BURN from Hamilton. Aaand ended up mixing other songs and this is what happened.
Storm Oct 2016
lights flashing through the city and polluting the air,
car horns honking and people colliding with your shoulder.
billboards flashing advertisements for the crowds below:
‘get a coke! stop by olive garden! try this phone service!’
and surrounding those screens, posters for the theater.
wicked, lion king, hamilton, and more
go to west 46th street and fight the crowd,
feel the excitement, hear the orchestra, touch the souvenirs,
let even a native new yorker become a tourist for one day
take your seat, admire the view, take some pictures,
listen to the ushers, watch the crowd settle, straighten as the lights dim.
everyone in places--it’s showtime.
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