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A poem every day.
05-11-19
Harley Hucof Oct 2019
The Thing about Logic is that it can be used to prove anything.

Words Of Harfouchism.
Seanathon Jan 2019
You go to the end of the road
And you know
Immediately what's there
That is why you don't acknowledge the sign
The street
The loop
It leads nowhere
Loops
Indigo Apr 2018
Let me submerge you
   In love
      And loss
         And all that is in between
I have been here before!!
Vick Mandrake Feb 2018
Do you see the three there?
That points to those two?
That point to that one?
There's another to the right,
and another further down
which points to one
and then another,
and then another,
then a little down
there's three.
Those three there,
do you see the three there?
Re: Thank You to unknown
   tom, ****, harry, tam, dame,
   or dana from the MHS Class of 77,
   though this alum
experiences public education
   within lower providence jurisdiction

as a ***
er - minimally partaking advantage
   of extra-curricular,
   collegiate, inter-mural,
   et cetera opportunities,

   no not even a figurative crum
well nigh convey an impression of being dumb
bull door, deaf, and blind (with out faith no more),

   nor passing love notes from
some anonymous girl, who
   (after leaving a teasing message
   informed asper getting a smart haircut

   in ninth grade civics class
   taught by Missus Comly
   (do not quote me on my
   power fully pointed excel lent spelling,
   telling nothing, when out of desperation
   I experience primal yelling)
this singular potential fledgling flirtation,

   the extent from student,
   who appeared morose and rather glum
exposing such vulnerability to be hum
millie hated, and bullied relentlessly,

   whereat i wish to be a little boy
   comforted by me mum
since that option out of the question,
   thus aye didst never meet Miss Mot Toe
   (e plumbs e num), perhaps cuz eye **** numb

body, mind and spirit triage as if inebriated by ***
imagining the fighting spirit within me to thumb
or rather "flip the bird" to those,
   this then anxiety prone

   metaphorically rolling stone
whose metaphorical diet of worms also included
   eating picked over sun bleached
   un beak coming road **** crow - how yum

me does that seem, but gnome hatter
   how grossly said foul dish
   spurred via carrion (an analogy
   representing verbal taunting

   best left for hitch cocked birds) didst not appeal
not in the least did i give nasty brutes a "what for",
twas fear of getting creamed, fricasseed, irradiated...

   sans to stand proud and tall
   (all five and a half feet, but blunted maximum height
   topped off just shy of seventy inches -
   in reference to yours truly) against bullies

to this very day such emotional repercussions congeal
asper anxiety, obsessive compulsive disorder, panic...,
   which physiological symptoms served psyche not to feel
and only of late (particularly with daily intake of about
   a half doe zen pharmacological prescription medications

   do check and induce schizoid personality disorder
   (the diagnosis encompassing,
   the gamut mental health issues) to heel
akin to a well trained service dog, which fractured

   psychological state i.e. garrison to pitch and toss
   upon the precarious tipping point i.e.
   surpassing the tipping point,
   where thy body electric doth keel,

which precarious state finds me socially awkward,
   and off kilter, and maybe this chap
   ought to take a page
   from professional athletes playbook,
   and take a knee qua to kneel

hence this improvisational explanation
   why yours truly felt discombobulated
   to attend the recently held reunion,
   now aye wanna axe something serious, and fur real,

which essentially constitutes whether
   a current list of 1977 students,
   who received their high school diploma
   could be sent to me, whereby at least one alumni
   could buffer end this contemplative, intuitive,
   and pence eave bowl dish guttersnipe wannabe with zeal.

hie haint gonna hold ma breath,
   neither let loose lips help miss ink moll itty bitty sinker agog
   nor wait fir any religious chief such as allah
boot nothing ventured...blah...blah...blog...blog...

adieu - - matthew scott harris
Brooke P Aug 2017
I’m sorry I make us late for everything.

I’m sorry that my inability to make decisions frustrates you.
I'm sorry that I constantly seem distracted and detached,
and that I never have any good suggestions
or anything genuinely interesting to say.
I’m sorry that my irrational questions annoy you -
It’s just that I always get caught in these loops of anxiety
that I can’t possibly find a way out of,
let alone explain to you.
I get stuck,
like a broken record, playing the same part of a song
over and over.
My mind convinces me that you’re displeased.
I’m sorry I can’t look you in the eye,
because I know I must have done something wrong.
I’m sorry I withdraw and fall silent.
I’m sorry I consistently expect more, but continue to give less.
Lady Bird Sep 2016
tick tock strikes the clock
in circles two hands flow
counting seconds to minutes
moving just so very slow
year after year
all in one loop
round like a sphere
minutes to hours
a time full hoop
tick tock...tick tock
circling within the mind
the flow will never stop
searching for answers that
are so very hard to find
JV Beaupre May 2016
Life is curved
in the shape of a flower,
a curved trajectory
that loops back on itself
repeatedly until the
last petal falls.
Really a Calligram with the words outlining a 4 petaled flower. That helps to explain lines 4 and 5.
Spenser Bennett Mar 2016
Loops within loops within loops
You got me jumping through your high hoops
And my hopes, my hopes are little scoops
Balled up by the pressure, dear

Breathtakingly, beautifully, brilliantly designed
Elegant, lucky lover redefined
Braver than, brighter than a silent star roaring, roaring, against unending night
Tell me that you need me here.
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