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aih 4d
stuck in my head
to when we were young
Emotions made our decisions
logic. reason. never in sight.
stupid in love or just plain stupid
it was you and me
Matt 7d
My baby passed away
And now I'm feeling blue
My baby passed away
And now I'm feeling blue
I thought she'd be my baby, but she has
Other plans

She hopped aboard a train
And now she's riding West
She hopped aboard a train
And now she's riding West
She said don't do it
Don't buy a ticket

My love's gone forever
Buried six feet deep
My love's gone forever
Six feet underneath
Oh, how she's the death of me
Way she says never
Palak Datta Oct 13
He's not strong nor is he tall,
He's not the typical 'man' you call.
He's not built up, nor is he cool,
Maybe he's the quietest in the school.

He's not good at academics,
And often has dates with paramedics.
He's the clumsiest of all.
Maybe he'll never be the guy for whom you'll fall.

He's not that talented nor has any gifts,
A complete misfit!
He's slow and steady but never wins a race!
Maybe he's totally a gone case.

He's not so many things,
Which back brings;
My idea of writing about him,
Even though he's not the hero of my film.

You wonder why?
I'm so fixated on this guy;
Because after all the things he's not,
He still smiles and takes all the shots.
He isn't 'the love at first sight'
But a slow burn that makes my life bright.
He is different, I guess.
An open jar of happiness.
He's got nothing to impress;
Yet so much to express!

He is not attractive; but radioactive!
A radioactive substance only knows emission. He only knows how to give- love, life and meaning to my existence!

Maybe I'll never love you as a lover,
Maybe I'll use you when I'll suffer.
But one thing is for sure,
You will have a place in my heart secure!
[M]
She wasn't particularly pretty,
Just a plain, average girl in high school.
She wasn't particularly brilliant,
Though no one would call her a fool.

She wasn't very athletic,
Preferring to sit in the shade.
She wasn't very artistic;
Her drawings were all left unpraised.

But she wasn't going to block out the cry:
That though childhood may have been tough,
She must stop defining herself by her "wasn't",
And learn, what she was, was enough.
I am broken, but I am enough.
onlylovepoetry Sep 2017
a plain poem (the first time I came in you)*

a plain poem, light and effervescent, a flim-flan tasting,
plein de absurde rimes, full of nonsensical rhymes,
a lattice of criss crossing pastry sugary lines, the ones,
cannot, struggle to deduce, induce, reduce
from my constipated vocabulary

oh well
~
the first time I came in you,
entered, bidden welcome,
suffused a bridge between
the party of the first part,
the party of the second part,
sugar lightness airy nonsense,
two spirits dancing the singular
pas de deux of their finite lives,
a performance unbeatable,
unrepeatable,
lost to the perfection annals

Shockingly, Surprisingly, Summarily,
did not compose an ode,
don't mine a new vein of ore,
even write a plain poe poem

as best can recall,
at the candle melting of the
sealing wax of the deal,
gave an honest speech,
instantly falling fast asleep
with nary a grunted word

ever since l,
cannot write of plain love plainly,
so she makes me pay with a
new living elegant elegy daily,
a quatrain, what a pain,
this iambic panting meter
love poem writing

jeez louise,
how I wish could write of
roses red and violets blue,
get back to sleep,
oh well then,
back to work

got to make those sad moans,
hers, go away,
so please excuse me

near ten years later,
still paying the dues of the
initializing error of my way

she rumbles-mumbles in her
pre-awakening dream state,
so please excuse, got to go, think up
some implicated complicated  
verses to soothe away
her simple poorly hidden anxieties

you see,
I am happy paying
on and on,
writing like the devil furious,
she is stirring, coffee soon,
cafe au lait
if you get my meaning,
but still cannot beat,
repeat, re-alive
that simple plain living poem notated,
when first I came in her*


<•;)

9/24/17 6:49am ~7:17am
Amanda May 3
They say "You gotta pay to play"    
Finding that's too true
******* ten ways from Sunday
No clue what I should do

Learning I can't maintain
I WAS in control
Overestimated brain
Habit swallowing me whole

Panic stricken voice
Gait leading to and fro
Haunted by one foolish choice
This agony I owe

I made the bed I am lying in
It's time to say goodnight
Afraid of darkness growing within
Bring myself to turn out the light

Cause and effect
It is simple and plain
Repeat the  same mistake once more
Is it really a mistake
If already made before?
You can't make the same mistake twice. The second time you make it it's no longer a mistake.
Apple juice Feb 27
𝖯lain, generic, and, sweet.
𝖲omething that just can’t be beat.
𝖳he irony of so many.
𝖵anilla is not of any.
Godly silk of milky white and an Understatement of unrequited
Separation.
𝖲he lies supine waiting for vanilla to pick a side.
𝖩ust above the rim of the cup,
vanilla built all the way to the top, with No mix-ins, an overscoop just for you, and a smile on the side too.
𝖲even o’three is what is going to be.
𝖲even o’three and a firm grip on me.
𝖸es the irony of choosing originality when its the exact opposite of what you preach
𝖤specially in between the sheets.
𝖨ndeed nothing to write home about
just a medium cup of soupy iced cream.
𝖠 flavor so **** sweet that’s sadly not for me.
𝖲weet memories in time.
𝖨’ll continue on
with vanilla on my mind.
Medium vanilla with no toppings.
How ordinary yet you aren’t like of any.
vanilla is you but vanilla isn’t what you are. Vanilla isn’t how you play vanilla is what you taste.
saturday mornings are for splashing the sink
in caramel, liquid sloshing down the drain
in waves: a spoonful of mild aftertaste
melting into tan-colored coffee.

i am the first to wake in the morning’s early hours
to trace the pattern of light that outlines my window;
sometimes, i count stars on my ceiling, so i can wish
and set it free in the stillness. i listen to the sounds
of the city, palms underneath my chin, sunrise
bleeding cream into the skyline. here, i am
saccharine, pouring milk as honey drips
from my cup. they swirl in shapes:

a home,
crushed beans,
warmth at midday.

i wait for them to curl sweetness on my tongue.
Poetic T Jan 30
If her trousers were any
                                          tighter,
I'd have to get the clippers out

  As that toe, was in need of a trim..
Aleena Nov 2019
Why
Why oh why
Can’t I be perfect
Like you
Why oh why
Do I have to be
Plain
old
me
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