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Jay Simkins Jan 2019
Fungal thought, catch it
But don't hold it in,
It's meant to be felt,
Rather than cotton,
Cushioned against real.

See alien fruit,
Jabber on the wok,
Sizzle the life blood
Come take yourself home,
The place before birth.
Jack Shannon Dec 2018
She blooms in spring after the heavy snow,
Her grace heralded by trumpet fanfare.
Along the river bank is where she'll grow
Loud and proud in the warm early May air.
Though tangled weeds may grasp firm on her roots,
She'll spite them whilst dressed in glorious blue.
So all who see her fresh buds and shoots,
Will know inside flourishes every hue
Of colour there displayed inside her mind,
Topics not easily comprehended,
Encyclopaedic knowledge you will find,
Which given her chance will be defended.
And as the Bluebells leave with Summer Sun,
She will remain to cheer us, never done.
One of the first Sonnets I wrote, about a good friend who needed cheering up.
Ceyhun Mahi Dec 2018
I know for sure
That if the pretty poet had a life
So long as parrots,
This collection of poetry,
So small compared to others,
Would have been filled with soothing dreams,
Scented with the smell of sweet flowers
Growing in the wide meadows,
Where slender nymphs do live
And little nightingales,
Singing great songs.
Leocardo Reis Nov 2018
A shadow cast across the room
Adopts a lonely size
Familiar, singular;
Belonging to a bride’s.

The turning of a curtain’s cord,
As the breeze blows by,
Rattles in an empty room
Which was occupied.

What good are words that can’t be heard
Or read by whom they’re for?
An open fist that grasps for wind
And memories from before.

She’s waiting in a wedding dress
Perhaps her groom is late?
But that is fine, she has the time;
Forever thirty-eight.
3rd year
Filomena Rocca Nov 2018
S.O.S.
we're in distress
require immediate assistance.

Come quick as you can
tell your captain, Old Man
and pardon my insistence.

We're sinking fast
our ship won't last
despite our best resistance.

But as long as she floats
get ready your boats
to salvage our existence.

C.Q.D.
please talk to me
as it is, we aren't left much persistence.
//In Morse shorthand, CQD meant "To all stations, Distress".
abby Jul 2018
at war with limes, I am a lemon head
at war with limes, I want lemons instead
strange thoughts of fruits are spinning in my head
I cannot sleep, I cannot go to bed
tomorrow will be bitter, filled with dread
lemons vs limes in iambic pentameter
David Lampert Jun 2018
I am big on iambic pentameter
  About that I could never lie, since
I pass every poetic parameter
  And earned my poetic license
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