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Ashlee M Dec 2019
Endless wood
A hunted, perfect hare runs
Enjoying the day.
A sentiment on how purely you can live, yet you cannot escape life who is the hunter.
rachel Oct 2019
i don't write poetry anymore
i sit in my room, naked, feeling the curves of my body, searching for a sort of foreign peace within them
i study for exams, begin books i never finish, watch movies and stop halfway through, wear the same pants three days in a row, go a week without washing my hair
i lay down in the grass and watch the sky move
i laugh, i smile, i talk with friends
i feel alive driving in my car, letting the spring wind blow through my growing hair
i celebrate my mom's birthday, mother's day, memorial day
i go to baseball games and wear perfume
i play the only song i know on the piano when i should be practicing the flute
i stand in the shower and think too long and too hard
i pick fights with my dad because i can
i imagine my future, peering around the invisible bends in my path
(my apartment is beautiful, the one in my head, in case you were wondering)
i travel down 35W to see my family on their farms during harvest, the combines plowing through corn and leaving the fields bare for the snow to blanket in the winter
i sing loudly in church and pray only when i feel like there's something to pray about
i get lost in myself, trying to figure out who i am and where i'm going and what i want, the maze just never seems to end
i realize how much i'm starting to look like my mother-- my eyes, my cheeks, my nose are all bits and pieces that i got from her
i don't write poetry anymore
life has gotten too busy
life has gotten too hard
this poem has been in the process of being made since february, and it sat in my notes app for quite some time before i realized that i could make something beautiful out of it.
i've been dormant on here for a long time, but i finally feel like i'm in a place to start sharing again ;)
Ken Pepiton Jul 2019
Ten minutes later,
the old crow's sitting quiet,
scratching,

no caws or that funny owl mimic trick he can do,
it's a hoot.  
He laughs.

I know a preacher or two who say that regular,
as liturgy, it's a hoot,

here, all say amen,
preach it, if you be the choir

searching still the lost chord to charge your life.

Ain't God a Hoot?

Well, me bein' Baptist, 'n' all...
I 'as reared Mormon...
Baptized and confirmed, Catholic to the core...

Po' man at the door,
My daddy was abastard niggajew and Jesus

fixt me, as I was waitin' fo' m' man, wit Nico
and the band
t'find a
soft place
to die
on
velvet underground, feedback scream

are you
experienced? I scream,

Back for more?
Peace ends wars, don't push me with your
reasonable

casualty in aitia-tick-tick terms un de
cerned, fined, ground

past granulated to sublimated

breathe

Elysian fumes,
unexpected right,

Sulphur, you were going to say,
or brimstone,
or rotten egg,

Sweet suasion sweet sweet suasion

to slip into
geological time and drift away.

You know that smell?
musing around in a sea of subtle sounds far away
Wayne Wysocki Oct 2018
(a limerick by Wayne Wysocki)

The tortoise and hare had a race
But the rabbit came in second place
      So the notion that speed
      Makes the win guaranteed
Just isn't always the case.
Copyright 2018 Wayne Wysocki
Erica Aug 2018
your love hurts
but i cant help but need it
i cant help but need you
why do you love me
why do you do these things to me
you tell me you love me
and i say it back
but do you really?
we haven't talked in months
you talked **** to someone who tells me everything
'it was just because of my meds but im in love with her'
you say to the girl who sleeps over my house for days and nights on end
the girl who loves me too
the girl who learned to hate you because you love me instead
why do i cause problems.
i fell in love with you day by day
it slowly eats away at me not being able to see you
why is it this way
why am i in love with you
i hate this feeling but...i love you
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Tick

In the tyranny of the measuring clock
Death is but a tortoise in this timeless race
With every slow tick and echoing tock
Forever keeping its careless pace

With so much to do I stay awake
With one foot in front of the other
Running with knees and feet that ache
Time feeds worms a salutary supper

In the end we must lie and nap
Embrace eternal slumbers deadlock
We are just hares caught in times trap
In the tyranny of the measuring clock

Tock
Spruha Dhamange Feb 2018
My Lord...
My parched eyes pine for the mercy of becoming your abode,
I pray I have enough teardrops to wash your lotus feet,
My hope never sinks that the most fortunate day must come,
That all I am left with is, is offering you my heartbeat.

My Lord...
Every blooming flower from the garden of my heart,
Aspires to become a part of the garland embracing your glorious neck,
Coloring itself bright, very busy sweetening it's own nectar,
Wishing that it be touched by your luminescence before losing its breath.

My Lord...
I relentlessly look around for a devout soul singing your sweet name,
Submerged in the deep, boundless ocean of your transcendence and bliss,
Mere human that doesn't want a want that is without you,
Seeking sweet pleasures that come with your eternal service.

My Lord...
My words always fail themselves in an attempt to come close to describe you,
All I know is that you tremble my heart with love and power at the same time,
I will never know if I am worthy of the joys that the most exalted have experienced,
I kneel in prayer however that you touch every thought that crosses my mind.

In this vast universe...
All the beautiful things, serene and pacific,
All the lovely things, enchanting and fantastic,
All the ugly things, vile and vitriolic,
All the material things, superficial and plastic,
All the pleasurable things, addictive and hedonistic,
Everything you've bestowed upon me, I humbly offer to you along with me.

How many stories you patiently weave into my soul,
How many places you make me go; sights you make me see,
How you overwhelm me with exciting highs and excruciating lows,
While all I really wish is to just become free.

But still bound...only by your love.
Kewayne Wadley Sep 2017
If a turtle could.
He would walk faster- maybe.
Find some dynamite.
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