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Tøast Aug 2020
The air is toxic,
These brown paper bag clouds
Clogging up our lungs
We wash our ash covered feet
But it’s seeped into the bloodstream
Trickling down into a much larger lake.

So we take the plunge
Swimming in the lake of serotonin
We dive down deep and admire the fish,
Such bright coloured fish relaxing at such depths.
Everything is better down where it’s wetter,
But with lungs not gills
We all have to come up for air.

We resurface and time has moved on
The air is getting thick now
And buildings have crumbled.
Entire generations of degraded graduates
Emerging from the thick mud of the banks of the lake serotonin.
Amanda Pringle Apr 2020
The shape of the sun; circle
The shape of a city block, square
The shape of a baseball field, rhombus
The shape of a house, pentagon.

But the shape of a home
Is based on what lives inside.

A pyramid proves a simple structure can still succeed
All lines involved
Connect to complete a common goal.

An octagon interludes
So all sides can solidify
A promising whole.

So what is to happen
To a house with
No shape?

When the lines are misconstrued
And the corners are mismatched.
A splatter on a plane
Lacking effort to be real.

A shape is not a shape
If there are breaks within the lines.

A shape is not a shape
If everyone neglects the vertices.

Geometry should have been priority
while planning a family.
Nylee May 2018
The mystery which never existed
but repeated
as they all talked about.

It never occurred
the scenes planted in their minds
never played out.

No one questions
none gives answers
they leave it the way

They still fear
stay clear
paranoid of the stillness

They shiver
when they hear
the dogs barking

They see shadows
down the streetlight
They don't forget their flashlight.

They are all bound
everyone regrets
still stay at the edge

The morning mist
reminds them
the mishap that never happened

This morose neighbourhood
waits for the rains
to wash away the stains
.
Druzzayne Rika Mar 2017
The echo was all around
there was violin playing in the background
The colour were red , brown and yellow
And strong emotions were going in flow
The place was candle lit
The show was on ,the stage with act
Silence and hands ,ready for applause
All enamoured by magnificent performance

But in midst ,there was slight mishap
Entire drama halts with one mess up
And everyone's attentions on the disrupt
All the efforts went to waste with the interrupt
Everyone forgot the show , and voices rose
The enchanted crowd now are indifferent
The performance became ordinary from brilliant

A small thing going faulty can make your efforts go awry
A small mistakes might makes a big difference
A small wrong can undo every rights
Tiffany Scicluna Jan 2017
My imagination,
Is a mishap
Of my own creation.

Due to it,
I tend to lose myself in thoughts,
And forget about reality,

As in dreams,
I can create my happiness,
To escape the cruel reality.
Reina Franco Jan 2016
She sat by the mainstream area,
its ubiquity reminds her of such
hunkering for a man's silhouette,
stationed and immobile, beside her.

She spun her head, noticing
how candidly dull everything, and
everyone is. Yet, realizing among
it (and them) all, it was her--
the most unfortunate of all.

She felt the solitude, for herself.
Reckoning where to go, and
what to do. Whether to blame
herself, or to curse the world
for her miserable mishap.

She needed the prowess, so
she picked up that piece
of tissue paper to write on.
She poured out,
disgorged her thoughts. And,
on that moment, for once
at least, such miserable mishap
into a blessing in disguise
had transformed to.

She became a poet,
at least for once.
Em Sep 2014
I gave you my body
My mind
and my heart
You gave me a lesson
a reminder
a start
I dreamt about you
and you dreamt about luck
Constantly lying
your lies just stuck
They stuck to my
hair
and my eyes
and my lips
they stuck to my mind
Like your hands on my hips
I'm wishing for you
someone better than me
A blonde
maybe 2 maybe 3
Guess we'll see
True story about boys and their *****

personalities*

— The End —