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Maria Etre Aug 2018
It's not
age that matters
look at (y)ou
y(o)(u)'re the
mos(t)
ageless being
t(h)at I
bumped
into
"If I Could Give You My Eyes" Series
Lyn-Purcell Jul 2018
My studies are done
I hold my certificate
and smile with pride

This Queen feels so strong
now she will use this wisdom
to better herself

Out of my cocoon
Though afraid, I feel happy
I pick up my quill

Now let it be known
Queen Lyn has now finished
She has passed her course!
Eeeeeeee! I DID IT! I FRICKING DID IT! *** I DID IT!!!!
Eeeeeeee!
Lyn xxxx
Ana Sophia Jul 2018
wish I could delete you
from my memory
and erase me from yours.
whish I could detach our past
and exclude this reality
in which we're apart
and not right for each other.

maybe if we met
another time and place
I wouldn't have ******* it up.
you would be free
and we could work it out.

Yes,
I still persist thinking
that someday there will be an us.
Mary-Eliz Apr 2018
I've seen it now
mentioned twice
by poets in their lines

somehow I must have
missed
this mission that was assigned

I guess I wasn't quite
paying enough
attention

boy! I sure hope
I don't end up
in detention

I must have fallen asleep
in class

whoops!

better behave
cause
this way I'll never pass

I just found out
about
April's poem a day

oh well, too late now
perhaps I'll try it in May
After I posted, I looked. Quite by accident, I have written a poem every day so far. Of course, it's only the 7th!
Maine Dela Cruz Mar 2018
Not odd nor bizarre
Not different, or god forbid, strange
Not quite unusual or irregular
Neither twisted nor morbid
Never disgusting but queer.

Bruised, but still, beautiful
Scarred but steadfast
Resolute and radiant
Free.
Explosive.
Human.
Poetic T Mar 2018
I always wear black
  when I walk around,
           wanting to be ready?

For death when it slyly
    collects me footsteps,
          taking my last horizontally.

Needing to be prepared for that
         moment, when I fall,
I want to look good on my deathbed.

If death wants me to pass,
        it'll be dressed in what I'm
             slumbering beneath the dirt in.
ha ha ha

he went mad
pointing his fingers
they
are
liars
he walks
away


bullets from confusion
what are we to believe
not i but you
not you but I
if
we
are
one
we are

if we are not
use my name
?
























...
..
.
this
to
...
..
.
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2018
“How is my work?”, she asked

If graded, 5/10.
You passed.

Happy, she was.

“But there is more to go”, later I added.

“Is there more than to pass?”, voice of  innocence.

A way long.
Genre: Inspirational
Psych-o-rangE Feb 2018
What is poetry?

A catchy rhythm of words? well that is absurd

A meaningful message in this life? you never live twice

Just neuron-pathways twisting and turning into spiraling art across the curves? and a helicase is placed, splitting dna

The unknown? don't know

Because you are older. And every passing second you fill your eyes with this world, processing information that is always processing.
thoughts *with thoughts *with thoughts I am

Leaving always seemed like the way to go. A way to go that can wait. Because every passing second you are here, we are passing with you. and we'll pass on through

Bye Poetry
Just one of those things you write in night and you just don't care what you're going to think tomorrow
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