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Just making a point.
On the tip of forever.
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Evening darkens upon the moors,
Forgiveness—a hairless thing
skirting the headlamps, fugitive.

Why have we come,
traversing the long miles
and extremities of solitude,
worriedly crisscrossing the wrong maps
with directions
obtained from passing strangers?

Why do we sit,
frantically retracing
love’s long-forgotten signal points
with cramping, ink-stained fingers?

Why the preemptive frowns,
the litigious silences,
when only yesterday we watched
as, out of an autumn sky this vast,
over an orchard or an onion field,
wild Vs of distressed geese
sped across the moon’s face,
the sound of their panicked wings
like our alarmed hearts
pounding in unison?

My family did get lost in an English moor on a dark moonless night. It happened when I was a boy. My mother was driving and seemed to have no idea where we were, or which direction to head. I wondered if we would ever find civilization again. It was a very spooky experience that I drew on for my poem. Keywords/Tags: England, Devon, moor, car, headlamps, headlights, directions, maps, points, routes, strangers, signals, orchard, field, geese, hearts, relationships, parting, separation, divorce, loneliness, alienation, free verse
A M Ryder Oct 2019
Just as perfect
As the music is painful
They took their time
Piece by piece
Placing every star
Casting out the constellations bright
And you alike
To the furthest reaches
But never too far
These perfect points set
So you never forget who you are
I am
in a
swiney bead
of breast
when tines
are forgotten
with shrines
of cross
that torn
pages now
drift back
to whole
still pick
the seam
those dark
insignias entrust
the norm
A note on tires
Andrew Leparski Feb 2019
To understand
this solid door
You must come true
and eager for more

There is nothing to be bought
or sold
by bleeding red roses
You are not faulted
or framed
for what the moment imposes

Come to thee
With an open heart in mind
To stand and witness
The reality you've been longing to find

I promise nothing
For if you push the door it will not swing
But if you pull towards your heart
You might be surprised as to what I'll bring

My Everything
Samantha Babe Sep 2017
I am in love. He is in love.
I am friends with him. He is friends with me.
We laughed to our favorite things.
I looked at him. He looked at her.
I walked with him. He talked about her.
I silence. He cheered me up.
I gained hope. He told me stop.
I confessed. But all he can say was sorry.
I cried. He don't give a ****.
Vale Luna Aug 2017
I'm fifty-one shades of ****** up
And thirty-two flavors of freak
Every instinct I have is corrupt
Including the words that I speak

I'm one hundred and one crazy dogs
And sixty-nine perverts in one
My existence goes against all odds
But the list is nowhere near done

There's thirteen reasons why I cry
And ninety-nine problems I've got
One of them’s the way I long to die
And the way my insides rot

I'm four seasons of misunderstood
And seven layers of bad luck
Cuz the bad always shoves out the good
So why should I give a ****?!

There's six, six and six demons I hold
From fifty-two weekly mistakes
My secrets are often always told
So I get used to the heartbreak

I'm two hundred and twelve wildfires
With three point one four percent logic
I only have primal desire
So the rest of me is toxic

I'm fifty-one shades of ****** up
And thirty-two flavors of wild
I've gone beyond the normal “corrupt”
And beaten Christian Grey’s style.
For my 50 Shade fans!
Lucrezia M N May 2016
Constellations spoke no words at all
when they could right interfere,
some missing points to draw a line
maybe the ones I've never had.

When the day comes it's already gone,
back and forth, in the end stuck here
for reality is my thorn and my spine,
then I can't separate good from bad.

The measure of time won't be long
so it's been what until now I steered,
there isn't more than meets the eye
I'll never know myself what's inside my head.
Truth to be told to myself
xmxrgxncy Jan 2016
One for the girl who doesn't want it

Two for the boy who does

Three for the man who shuns it and scorns it

Four for the grandma who knits

Five for the uncle who's ma's disappointment

Six for the burdened mother

Seven for the cousin who's the runt of the litter

Eight for the sister who's drowned in a shadow

Nine for the godmother whose hands are *******

And Ten.


For the boy who happens to make my heart sing

and ten more for the boy

who has angel wings.
Only he will get how this point system works...:P
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