President Donald Trump
Was elected by many people
Who would call themselves
Religious People,
But why is it so hard  for anyone
To be inspired by America's Politics today?
I wouldn't even say that these "Christians'"
Are INSPIRED by President Donald Trump now.
They just like becoming  the Winners
As others become the Losers.
They're concept of Spirituality
Is more like Rape!

I like the looks of this poem here at the Byers Branch Library in Denver's Santa Fe Drive Arts District.
Jade Mikaila Apr 23

The spring scent of flowers is rousing, heady.
I'd like for the blossom petals to rest upon my eyelashes such as a snowflake.

In my hair. And I can see my shadow hips gyrating with the rhythm of a cat, slow and smooth.

Hitherto I've been victimised,
My love has been plagiarised,
Claimed by men generalised.
I have loved her,
And lost her too.
Like I've in the past,
With other lovers.

I am a Nomadic Lover,
I know not what it is to be loved,
By young ladies I have only been cheated.

My HP Poem #1481
©Atul Kaushal

Tripping at the line, faltering at the goal
missing the last time, blocked, by the pole

Triumph but a un-missed fate, a faltering of faith
loss of proffered bate, an interfering wraith

The agony and ecstasy, we know from start to end
winning so god damn heavenly, and to the victors, lend

Spin me a song, my minstrel
Make it sweet, and smart

Remind me that the winning
is not, the greatest part

We participated in the belief, in the day, that all children are winners. The soccer league didn't keep score or give trophies, but ya know what, the kids did, and at the end of the game/season, they knew.
Andrew T Dec 2016

You’re eyes are black and white
They make me think you have an old soul
They remind me of classic films,
Of the dusty keys on our piano
Different races but no winner from competition.
I wonder
What these sunglasses will do for you

Francie Lynch Dec 2016

A trophy doesn't designate
A winner
Anymore than swearing denotes
A sinner.
Wear a ribbon.

My Dearest Reno Sep 2016

in view of it all,
watching, feeding
line after line
"oh she's so amazing"
no she's not, what did you miss?
what are you so blinded by?
has life left you with such generic bliss?
pluto calls and dismisses renovation
they'd rather blow it to bits
we think you're a bunch of idiots
oh, her sound is so amazing
no, no it's not, it's the shrill
like death copied on glass plate
a copy of a copy of a copy
original doesn't want to crawl up her
ass and die, it's in fear for its reputation

dugong twat
it sucked in the series
it sucks now and will forever, oh, and ever.....amun

oh, but it's so brilliant. ugh, horrifically boring!
orangesherbet Jun 2016

don't tell me that you understand
if you're going to say that some win and some lose
because i know that
but i needed to be in the winning
i needed not just wanted
and that is what you don't understand
that is why


missed the point completely.

the full stop in the middle is on purpose, it is the point and the you is the person missing it, if you get what i mean :)
Kyle Kulseth May 2016

You keep shaking at the branches
just like money grows on trees.
I been dealing in these cheap clichés
just like they'll help me leave someday.
And--easy! Easy! Easy.--
We can't let 'em hear us scheming
at the bottom of their hill
while their victories are streaming.

I can still remember days
when sane folks always laid bets on us.
With our mortarboards tilted all smart
and God left sorting filters,
we tilted, tipped all windmills
and we smoked through all opponents.

You'll tell me I once loved you.
I'll reply that, once, I could.
And we'll keep on telling stories
'til our voices clear the woods
and drift on up their hill
and through their windows
to their ears.

I'll tell you you were beautiful.
You were! I fucking swear!
So tell me I was beautiful
and that we can repair
this broken clumsy story
that fucked us all up and brought us here.

Up there atop their hill,
those thieving bastards sip their wine,
while below them, our white facepaint runs.
We plan ahead for better times.

I keep shaking at the branches
as if friendship grows on trees.
Just as though they might accept me,
when the dollars fall with Autumn leaves.
And you been dealing hard in hollow hopes
and flimsy dreams.

But I still think you're beautiful.
So tell me that I'm beautiful.
And then let's clip their flimsy wings.

Those motherfuckers 'crost the town
are eating shit and grinning.
while counting out their winnings.

But their music plays too loud
and soon their eardrums will be bleeding.
If they can't hear us breathing, babe,
they'll never hear us scheming.

I'm trying to do a LOT with a LITTLE as far as pacing and meter go, and I think, maybe, I get a little hung up or tripped in a couple places. All in all, though, I think it turned out pretty good. I kinda like it.
Francie Lynch Apr 2016

My -

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