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FloydBrandon May 1
Fistful of **** and I don’t give a ****
what it takes
to get it the **** out of my hands
Sit over the edge if I have to
and land
in a fat ******* puddle of ****
fistful of ****
Solaces Feb 7
I can view the places of rain memory..
Where the puddles gather ready to be taken by to the sky..
The sun calls to the waters...
And slowly takes it back to the clouds..
You had to kiss the earth before you become and Ocean..
And soon you will become a tide to greet the Earth again..
Only this time the moon will call to you to do so..
The puddles and tides..
Jon Thenes Nov 2019
ripples on puddle

wind increase to tear surface

life below thriving
distress upon pond
the message carved by the breeze
fish below the surface
Philomena Oct 2019
Wrapped tight in a grey blanket
Staring for what feels like hours
Dead inside
And the soft fabric slowly sleeps as minutes pass
Until it sits around my waist
I stand up to readjust
The only movement in hours
The blanket falls from the chair
A puddle of sadness on the floor
I scoop it up and let it hug around me one more
Returning to my staring it does it once more
My grey puddle of sadness on the floor
Ricki T Sep 2019
If I were a steaming cup of tea-
Fresh from the kettle-
And you were a solid cube of ice
I’d melt you like a puddle, and we’d be one.

If I were a hot blacktop pavement-
Searing from the sun-
And you were a sticky piece of gum
I’d melt you like a puddle, and we’d be one.

If I were a pocket to a pair of overalls-
Tumbling from the dryer-
And you were a waxy type of crayon
I’d melt you like a puddle, and we’d be one.

If I were myself-
Sizzling from your love-
And you were yourself-
Going in for a hug-
You’d melt me like a puddle, and we’d be one.
This was my first semi-serious attempt doing a freeverse poem. I made this for my creative writing class, and I thought it was too cute to not share :)
c Jun 2019
Jumping into puddles
And jumping into love
Both leave me so muddled
And I just can’t get enough

But mud belongs in puddles
And flower petals fall
This “he loves me, he loves me not”
Will surely end it all
Ken Pepiton Jun 2019
this is what comes next,
we have learned
to wait for

The world, the environs of me i see,
have changed
or become

other than I imagined in the illusory phaze

visual-real-aural-real-terror-real ah,

right no holy terror here, we past that.

title-mebbe Ignorance is a choice, it is vain,
the effing efforting to ig nobel so high a wave as mine.

Rock and roll poets with scientific magi making tools
that obey our virtually

whim. Imagine that. We did. What now?
or ance, re ignorance

a dance,
a wee twist that tugs us back to unem,

we chuckle. You know, if you have not thought
how happy after right now,
might work if it were your might that makes it work,

then. This is that. In a poem. A poem puddle the flow flowed to.
No joke, life has become very jello-ish in its real-feel here, for a while.
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