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Ellis Oct 2021
I was told I didn’t need to know the Ingredients
For making a child with a heart of Gold
That they were born holding a Medal
Which said they owned everything and All
Of it was because they had convictional Purpose
The doctor would cry and bring a rose Flour
To thank the mother for Baking
An excellent batch of babies, Soda
Would be poured in champagne glasses, Salt
Sprinkled a top its head to spread like Butter
The flavours of intellect and it also Softened
The hearts of others around; old wounds Granulated
Smelled like caramelizing Sugar
Inside the room, the bodies Packed
Together to peer at the Brown
Strings of hair atop the child, who’s Sugar
-like shrieks of life broke open the Egg
Of love and made it taste like Vanilla
Its tears looked the most Semisweet
A dripping fountain of Chocolate
Fondue, be careful not to Chip
The teeth when it grows, it will grow Coarsely
Then, like jagged pebbles Chopped
With a dull knife; finally, assemble the Nuts
And bolts tight because this will hurt ,if
Not properly done, or simply toss away if the kid wasn’t desired
read the last word of every line
onyx Jul 2021
my mother is like the queen
she is the queen of everything
but in the sense that all that matters is reputation and
i am merely a means to an end.

i am the pawn on the chessboard
and she likes to play with her pawns carved out hollow,
brittle shells on the edge of breaking.
she likes the power of holding a fragile heart in her hands
to nurture and then destroy as she sees fit
for her own entertainment.

is it still my fault i turned out the way i am?
the ground shook when the crown was placed upon her head, for surely even earth began counting down the time until its destruction.
Jammit Janet Jul 2021
#82
I shine a light on thee 💡✨
To protect you from your woes ☂️✨
Dispel your enemies 🌬✨
Enrich your soul ✨
Jason Stevenson Jun 2021
There she sat against a tree,
Lush green grass as far as the eye could see.
Vibrant, colorful flowers, fully bloomed at her feet,
The wind through the trees, "What a sound," she thought, her heart skipping a beat.
She lets the wind take her far away,
A new sight to be seen each day.
From the snowy mountain tops, down to the ocean floor,
Nature is what she truly adores.
To create and restore,
She is Mother Nature a nurturer at her  core.
Loving and gracious,
She can be quite tenacious.
There is to no extent to which she won’t go
To maintain nature’s flow.
Nature is her child, her special sense of joy.
In her element she isn’t coy,
Like a child with a toy,
Nature is her playground,
Everywhere she goes joy can be found.
Round and round she goes,
Where she goes, only the wind knows.
This is a poem I'm passionate about turning into a series. It's also the beginning of a sequel to a prior story I wrote a few years back. I'd love to hear what people think! Thank you.
OnlyEggy Nov 2020
Be free!
I release you, Nurtured Feathers
Go! Fly!

Run and flee!
Leave this wall-less house of Forever!
Escape, bye!

Be gone!
No longer Us bound together!
No longer try!

Just remember!
I sewed your wounds better!
Dried Nurtured's eyes!

Don't forget!
I severed Binds that held Nurtured tighter!
Eliminated lies!

Reminisce!
Of toils of illness and bouts of fever!
Shoulders where Nurtured voice cries!

Just know!
There never were walls, windows, doors, locks, or levers!
Nutured was always free to go and try!

Freed Ye!
Become loveless to the hand of the deepest lover!
Beseech my soul as it dies!

So, Be free!
I smile as I release you, Nurtured Feathers!
Ever hurt as you go by!
11/21/2020
Orakhal Oct 2020
as you hold your child
don't hold on to them
Norman Crane Aug 2020
He brought spiders to the schoolyard
      to crush them
He attended Julliard
      to learn Bach's partitas for violin
He pays women to undress for him
      and beats them
Knowing culture is a game
      we play
The boy and the man are the same
      composition
Performed in various ways
      the notes stubbornly remain
What's born cannot be changed
      one musical phrase
Nurture is Nature's
Dais
There is some part of me
Which I have gnawed at
Chewed up and bit at
Enough to make you wonder
Whether to put the dying dog down
Or stomp out the raging fire’s last embers

Though I try, I can’t deny
What’s born is to beheld
Val Vik May 2020
It was your heartbeat
The first sound I ever heard. . .

before I was born.
Haiku # 7
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