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lua Sep 25
there was a moment in time
when death sat beside me on a park bench
and he had rested his hand on the gap between us

i,

too,

rested my hand there
and brushed my fingers against his

and for a chaste moment
i savoured the warmth of his skin
and intertwined my hand with his

but he stood up

and left

and maybe he knew,

it was for the better.
it was the right option
Bhill Aug 21
What is anxiety
Why does it occur
Who does it affect
Can you get it at school
Can you get it in your car
Can you get it in the park
How do you control it
How do you function with it
How do you, how do you

Well, you take a deep breath
Look it straight in its anxious riddin eye
Than spit at it

Oh, and then sing “Over the Rainbow”

Just saying...

Brian Hill - 2019 # 212
Sing everybody
My girlfriend is comming over tomorrow.
We'll have a barbeque with my family and some friends. The day after we'll go to an amusement park with everyone. It's one of the most fun weekends of the year. <3
A "poem" every day.
Megan Hammer Aug 5
Swinging in a hammock under palm trees, I’m taken away;
into a swing on a playground where we used to live.
Pine trees work together with the heat waves that bathe us.
My sister is playing the boys while they play basketball.
She doesn’t see that they are planning a move, but I do,
and I hope she’s got a trick up her sleeve.
At fifteen, she sneaks out every night,
out of the window with no screen.
She goes to see Michael who I don’t like.
I think he’s up to no good, but what would I know?
I’m just a five-year-old.

Swinging in a hammock, I’m taken away;
into a swing on a playground where we live.
My brother rides his bike with his friends,
and they talk about baseball cards and the next game.
And the grass is always greener when he’s around –
my mom and dad grab the camera and make the most out of today.
But my dad is not his dad, which bothers no one,
though my brother is always a little mad.

Swinging in a hammock, I wish I could be taken away;
into a swing on a playground where they lived.
I sit in dazed exhaustion from a long day –
there are no sounds of running feet nor voices chanting names.
There are no baseball cards nor boys nor basketball games here.
I don’t know where Michael is, and my sister doesn’t go out anymore.
My brother doesn’t ride his bike anymore, and his next game ended up being his last.

Swinging in a hammock, I stare with strange, confused longing
at the branches above me;
the branches that bend into each other against a clear blue sky
I have not known for a very, very long time.
Chris Saitta Aug 4
In the park, soft-study of sands and swings,
Where the birds while away the unabridged air
Like rains on green, copper roofs ~ their wings.
So I have touched my rainy fingers on the fountain’s surface,
And tum-tumed at the dumpy belly of a dog,
So I have felt the vendor’s balloons like cantaloupes for freshness,
So I have a pocket-change of smiles for all.
At the fountain’s edge,
Like green-molded quaystones feather-singed
By the touchstrokes of the arcing wings of the sea,
Or like a saucer of warm milk
For the alley-cats to drink the milkiness of sun
And then with their paws,
Plink at overturning the day into porcelain shadows.
Mitch Prax Jul 2
She went to the park
and made the birds, sun and trees
jealous all at once

7:24 PM
29/6/19
Sky Jun 29
Get up at 6 am
Out at the park
Joggers and Dog walkers
Watch them run in circles

Head's bob to something motivational
I bet you find it relatable
Maybe inspirational?
Someday you'll see its all just sensational

I can't see a thing but the turbulence in the air
And some awful glare
Up behind that cloud up there
I just don't get why all you people like to stare

Sit alone and ponder, that fake lover
You thought you loved her?
Try and capture that in that your social blunder
As you burn up in the summer

Look around at this sick little plot of nature
Think your some kind of savior?
Ignorant of that melting glacier?
Huh, guess you wouldn't know much about being a maker

Look I know its tough
But your heart is puffed up in self righteous fluff
Its the weight on the other end of your handcuff
When are you gonna see that its enough?

Why don't you put those clock arms back
Back to when it was all pitch black
But now that I'm awake I finally see
Just how pointless it all could be.

But you know just as well as I
That there is one truth you can't deny
That time is on my side
Soon your heart will be as weathered as mine
JT Nelson Jun 18
I was taught by a man
That smelled heavily of smoke
Of the difference of certain
Brands of cigarettes
And the place to smoke them

I don’t remember much of that lesson
As I quit over twenty years ago
Except that Lucky Strikes should
Be smoked outside... alone...
In the park.
I think I only bought one or maybe two packs of Lucky Strikes. Those filterless suckers were a tough smoke.
MatteoFPJ Jun 13
There really is nothing more meaningful than to wander around,
In a park,
Amongst trees and flowers and some squirrels,
Some people here and there,
Some rays of sunlight piercing through the leaves and caressing the skin of those
Who wonder around, in a park, amongst trees and flowers and squirrels.
Some gentle rain makes it even more divinely peaceful,
But it may sadden and soak some of those
Who wonder around, in a park, amongst tall and short trees,
Colourful flowers and plainly green grass,
With squirrels jumping around and curious about these giants.
Nothing,
And everything, at the same time,
Are the feelings of those who wander around, in a park,
Stopping somewhere a moment to appreciate nature, bending somewhere else to hurt a flower.
They are able to tell everything to whomever they are walking with,
Those who wander around a park, without a clear destination,
Conscious that they will have to cross a gate to get out
And they will lose every bit of pleasure gained throughout such walk.
Many people kiss in parks,
And lay on the grass,
As if it were a private room, with invisible wall,
Or thinking that no-one else wanders around,
In a park, looking for happiness and tranquillity.
Karen M Jun 10
Xylographed initials made by lovers over
Yonder in the suburb parks where the human
Zoo keeps them under watchful eyes.
The last 3 lines of an A to Z poem I'm working on.
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