Akhila 5d

I'm happy when I play my keyboard
There is so much that I love
I'm happy when I see you smile
You're the most beautiful boy
I'm happy when I score good marks
My father will be proud
But sometimes I am sad
In those moments
I always come back to you
My dear paper and pen

My poetry is my escape
When I can't breathe and have no one around to hold my hand
I hold my pen
Nateive Son Jul 14

When give your true expressions from the heart
They will tell you you've gone insane
But I know
That you're just giving us the part of the spirit that
Communes with everything
And that you're not buying into
The Commodified Reality
Outlined in the TV shows and intertubez
Shown on display via GAP and whatever else is a brand name

I dunno
My whole conscience is coated in slime from
The gutter
Where I found The Bible, Tao Te Ching and
Three pornographic comic books laying next to each other
All from the same Earth
All touching the same ragged dirt as yesteryear
Because it's all
And I have never felt more at home than when
I was lost
Stumbling around like a jojo

So when they print that you're not here
Part of it all
Shake your finger and say
No, no, no, no,
I've been living it since day one
And my interpretation of events
Has a basis for the moral structure of feeling together
With everyone

I don't care what you say
Because you can not show me off like a lightbulb
Only I can turn the switch on
And let the energy flow out
To turn you

No, no, no:

Jasmin A Jul 13

It's funny. The way I feel when I see fresh line paper. Untouched and calling to me. I love it. So many possiblilities. So many beautiful things to be written. What's funnier is that when I get a new notebook, it sits there for weeks. And so it stays untouched. The funniest thing is I love to write and get things out so I can look at them in proof that these words exist. In some way. Some form. I don't know why it's so difficult. I know enough metaphors and hyperboles. All the contents to make my writing swell. Readable. But I honestly think what throws me off is that no one is reading. No one is connecting with my writings like I do to Chibosky and O'Hara. No one is waiting to love my next chapter because they haven't even seen the first. I am uninspired with endless suroundings of inspiration. And no one falls in love with a bore.

Oh, the works. j.a

I thank God
For the toilet paper in public restrooms
For when there is
Toilet paper in a public restroom

Thank God for that toilet paper

Yearns for the trees
No more than I
A humble man
Yearn for the pride of my prior youth
For once you have begun
You can always begin again
In some respects

Isn’t that write?

Just trying to be clever on a rainy day. LOL.
nadine Jun 22

you never had hands and arm
to touch my heart
you never had the ears
to listen to my tears
all it takes is a paper and pen
to have you as my friend

this has been
Arpan Rathod Jun 20

Your cruelty made
my soul bleed
my screams are now
but my paper is
now filled with
bleeding lines.

Thank you Rosema for the prompt.

Be the poem which the paper and pen couldn't handle

Vexren4000 May 31

An object of once great value,
Delivering information the old world,
Lacking in complex technology,
No computers, or CPU laced cars.
No telephones held together by satellite systems,
Space, not the only final frontier,
This aged world,
This place held stagnantly,
By the humans of history,
Museums and stories were written long ago.
When the newspaper,
Was once the only,
Source of news,
From around the world.

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