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will Aug 2019
Thank you for having a gift
for all of those gentle songs
that you sweetly sang
with your melancholy voice

Thank you for everything
for all the advice you gave
through the good and the bad
for lifting me up when I'm sad

Thank you for giving me a home
and baking me banana bread
for taking care of things
thanks for just talking to me

Thank you for showing me
that everything is temporary
my pain isn't here forever
you were always with me

Thank you for the nostalgia
the sweet uke from the UK
the rhythms that found my soul
and the calpol for my heart

Dear robin, thank you.
A poem dedicated to Robin Skinner (aka Cavetown). Cavetown's music is half the reason I am here today. His youtube makes me smile and reminds me of the good times. Everything bad seems to be put into a better perspective when I listen to his music. I cannot wait to see him live in October.
Mae Jul 2019
Oh, the jar exults high
holding what we find to be dear
Oh, the marinaras keen zest, umami, and as I close my eyes
I hum the hunger tune.
Oh, but without the curved ridge and open space
the sauce would never grace my face
The jar! The jar,
the vehicle of delicious  
who was passed through many hands
and crafted with hot sand.
Oh, tomato, garlic, and onion so sweet
and delivered neat, for me to eat.
Rory Mels Tims Jul 2019
O eraser, o eraser,
You were supposed to make it white
Instead you made it gray
O eraser, o eraser,
You smudge my work all day!
O eraser, o eraser,
I'm throwing you away!
You're hard and black with pencil dust--
O eraser! O eraser!
Away!
I was just bored in class one day and frustrated by how many erasers are
hillary litberg Jun 2019
you’re hanging on my frame,
and i’m
looking for something wrong with you,
and i’m
not finding any holes, or stains,
or stitches that forgot their function,
you’re unexpectedly immaculate
and just my taste,
a one-of-a-kind that makes me
believe in soulmates,
you fit just right,
the good kind of tight
that hugs every curve
desperate for affection,
compliments my most specific parts,
sparks joy through every
vein and pore,
lifts the highlights,
and drowns the low,
i can’t comprehend
what possessed your possessor
to let you slip,
so i flipped you outside in,
searched every seam,
and everything was
just as good as it seemed,
now i’m baffled that someone
banished your beauty
to bargain bins for this
beggar who can’t choose,
who’s spending her last dime on you,

so forgive my fears you’ll fall apart
secondhand has rarely taken me far.


2. you’re wrapped in my arms,
and i’m
looking for something wrong with you,
and i’m
not finding fault in your clumsy smile,
or fading facade,
or ink poked imperfectly
over scars,
or how you warm what
the radiator doesn’t reach,
how you learned the rosetta stone
of my love languages,
and lately i’ve been
desperate for affection,
you compliment my most specific parts,
exactly what i needed
cause i’ve never felt ease,
and we’re a crooked coordination
the kind of mismatched that’s pleasing,
still i can’t fathom
why you’ve settled for scribbled songs
when it’s symphonies you’ve earned,
so i turned you outside in
looking for one fatal flaw,
found it written in your
sobered skin, but i can
overlook an imperfect timeline,
i’ve wiped my own clean
washed it down with wine,
so sorry to cling, to become parasitic,
i’ll pry myself off, please just be patient,

and forgive me for fearing this is all in jest
i’ve just never had more than second best.
Zeynep Çiçek Jun 2019
It was in the daytime and night
that I really began to stick out
I went to the park and
Yelled to my heart’s content

Next day he came to my side at the swings
and sat down on the one next to mine
“Hey,” he admitted. “I love you, what do you say?”
Then earth’s coat turned one hundred-eighty degrees.

‘Love?’

I said, in all my childish wisdom, “Then it’s best that we wait until grown.”
I wouldn’t know at the time
that it was the best response I could have given at that age

Years pass
and in my mind
was the statement (question?),

‘Love(?)’

In the night I’d lunge to sleep
like a lost lover coming to reap
the missed fruits of a long forgotten tree

In my dreams I’d live a life
filled with less strife than I’d ever face

And in those dreams I would
fantasize of the shape
that my love would take

And when I closed my eyes I would whisper,

“Love?”

Unknowingly I had kindled a fire deep in the recesses of my chest
that would color me like a canvas empty and yearning

And I, in my hopeful search,
would utter the wistful words,

“Love!(?)”

I used to get some nightmares at times
that would rouse me from sleep
and leave me alert but placid,
staring at the bluish tiny of my curtains

In the wake of fear, panic, and sadness
there in the early morning hours
was the time I would find a peace uncoiled
an emptiness welcomed whole

And then, I would sigh, and think whimsically,

‘Love?’

Then was the place I’d look upon
where possibilities laid across my gaze.
None of them were possible but
I’d find enjoyment out of the dream

And every time, I’d shrug with weariness,

“Love(?)”

So in the end of a year, then we ventured on a tour
where we had fun and laughter
and much-earned confusion
On the final night we marched for the diner
The road was damp with rain, petrichor strong in the air
and the dim streetlights set the sky dark
stars vanished with grace
I argued with my fickle friend(?) and found myself behind him,
contemplating whether I should
Then I mused, ‘**** it,’ and strided forward to him
Nudging his shoulder, he did not realize me
so I nudged harder

And that was when he looked at me.

And

I

said


H
e
y,

l
o
v
e
(?)


And

he

said


N
a
­h
.


.......
.....
...
.

.

.
.
.
Was I crushed?
I don’t think so
for when I received his answer
and the electric message
lighted up the passages between my neurons
there I was so happy that I
could have jumped up high and reached the full moon,
touched the humid clouds and came away wet with rain
and smiled and smiled and-

Smiled.

I laughed and smiled
and I went back
I was so proud of myself, of my success, of my joy,
of the dark rainy night and the earthy fragrance
that I had not minded his rejection at all.

And in my mind I was laughing,

‘Love...(?)’

It was in the next few years that I
stood in front of a whole crew (gang?)
and heard him say,
“He wants to date you, what do you say?”

Me?

Wouldn’t I be flattered? It’s ingrained at this point
Building up and up and up to this day
when all my longing would have paid off.

.
.
.
“I’m sorry,” I replied ruefully, an apology on my lips and anxious, burning nerves in the pit of my belly.
“I can’t.”
Then I walked away like that.

And, I had exhaled internally, tired,

‘Love?(.)’

And I slowly came to realize, after months,
that I had been searching where I shouldn’t have
and that what I had sought all this time

was a raw, visceral, delicate, quiet, warm, fond, shaky, intimate, peaceful care

in the depths of my belly, and in the dark cavities of my mind,

I had always known that the thing I had been searching for
had been-

.......
....
.

‘Love.(?)’
A history of my love life I guess XD
Also, there’s a lot confusion in me regarding ‘love.’ It’s a feeling I know from inside out yet not at all, and it’s been the bane of my existence for years, even since my childhood times.
A B Faniki Jun 2019
The bittersweet taste of dishonesty has always
made men yearn for God, who is faithful.
Words, names, and laws are the ingredient that
Made life amazing and great, that is why the
Words we trust in are those of almighty God.
The name we trust in is that of God,
And the laws we trust in are those of God too.
Simply put, “IN GOD WE TRUST.”
Defeat is not in our province, nor is our hope going to
Be extinguished; because our God can be trusted.

Our heart will not jolt a bit if brute
Force is borne upon us, for sticks and
Stones may break our bones but not
Our spirit, which is free of mortal law.
The nation will be subdued under the souls that
Do not trust in mortal men and their whims.
The people will be subdued under the soul that
Trusts in God and is not afraid to say it.
The pursuit of happiness for the spirit of men
Is closed circuit (alive) when we trust in God.

Whenever something bad happens to a good man
There is something he could do, trust in God;
For there is always a silver lining to every cloud.
There is an original sin for men to contend with,
But there is a promise also for those who trust.
Just like there is a Christ for those who believe.
Men of destiny will always look up to the heavens
When they’re seeking the path of trust and wisdom.
As for us who trust in God we will be as
high as the sky and as deep as the ocean.
This one of thelong piece of poem I have wrote. Is about trust whch is key to everything in life. To put our trust in men is folly it's self.
Her sparkling eyes
  are a beautiful diversion.

Demeanor is hell-bent
  to dazzle one's paradigm.

A princess of fantastic mirage
that will sell you a dream within
  a dream.

Her sleight of hand makes a
  mystical impact.

She's from a place of faith,
  from where lies her true beauty.

Her magic will resonate
  within the hearts of many.
A poem dedicated for a gospel magician from HDM (Honest Deveivers Ministry)
Mae May 2019
Holy moment
set in stone,
Orange blossom resting at his heel,
Sitting at our dried up river and
Stirring the heart backward,
will be the closest thing to visiting your grave.
Set in stone
this holy moment,
Wet butterflies harm the scene
of litter and lives lived.
Holding back
all
and
leaving nothing but leaves.
My brother died in the fall two years ago, this is kind of an Ode to our childhood play area. FEEL FREE TO WORKSHOP IN THE COMMENTS!!
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