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Jonathan Moya Sep 28
Our marriage is old enough to vote now
and on this our porcelain anniversary
I vote “Yes, I do,”  over and over again.

A score of fine filigree plates I will gift us,
two broken to match the fragile times,
the eighteen days past the towers fall
when we married amidst grief and joy.

Our Noritake sacraments survives the bombings
of a blasted world, the cracking, fractures,
the buffing of our mistakes to a translucent
perfection, all frozen details rimmed with gold.

Cancer is etched on the lip, but so
is cure, joy, longevity, beauty, respect,
and the watermark underneath, our keepsake
forever, irreplaceable love.
Kristen is my second wife. We got married  eighteen days after 9-11, when the twin towers of the World Trade Center fell in a terrorist attack on September 11,  2001. Thus if you do the math of the second stanza you get one score. (20) minus two = 18. Eighteen days past 9/11 makes the date September 29, 2001.

  It is also our eighteenth anniversary.  The irony of that number in our lives today was too good to leave out of the  Poem.  

The typical gift for an 18th wedding anniversary is porcelain.  Thus China and Noritake reference.  

For those aware of history the Noritake factory was bombed and destroyed by Allied planes in WOrld War Two.  Only the China it produced survived the bombing. © 9 hours ago,
Ya Boi Sep 15
As though her skin was stained porcelain white
She slipped back down from the sky cracked and marred
Though every second of my gaze was wasted
As in her final instance; before departure
She was stained porcelain white
Ashley Kaye Jul 13
I often wonder
if I am but a teacup
to your boils.
Without me
Where would you set
your pinkie
Where would you pour
your cream
Where else to discuss
the “new mortality”
but about my heated air?
July 10, 2019
Anne J May 21
Strings around porcelain skin
Bruises that are so thin
Skin never grows
Face never shows never feels
Twirl can she ever
For my art project, I took my first poem on this site and made a black out poetry of it.
G Rose Apr 12
-
I am a porcelain doll;
not for the beauty,
nor the blemish exempt skin.
but for the same state of

fragility

Carelessly placed

and balanced
atop a shelf of discord and disorder
looking down onto a world
as it looks up at me

like predator to prey
G Rose Apr 5
She was small yet spoke like obsidian
though in reality,
every bone threatened to send her crumbling
like porcelain.
Abby M Jan 4
You were falling
So I stretched out my porcelain hand
But you were scared
And you gripped it too hard
Now it’s broken
And so are you
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