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So, this isn't really a poem,
More of just a post.
I'm looking for 300 poets,
New or old,
To write a line.
For a 300 poet poem.
I have one so far,
I'm in need of 299 more.
I don't know if people read my edits to these, but I just wanted to you you all know, you're in such harmony with fellow poets, you're rhyming. :)
Also, feel free to submit more than one line!
I think it'd be a cool thing to try out. Let me know if you guys are interested.
If you would like to participate, write up a line for the poem and private message it to me. Make sure to include your name or pen name in the email that way I can credit you. I will arrange the lines in a way that makes sense to read.
Thanks guys.
Name of the poem is pending if you guys have ideas let me know, please forward this to anyone who you'd think would be interested, I want to make this a real thing.
Love knows
No; not so —used to express negation, dissent, denial, or refusal
Bounds so don't
Try; to make an attempt at —often used with an infinitive
To give it some.
Actually dictionary definitions of these words. Merriam-Webster if anyone is wondering.
Sometimes
I feel
Like my words
Are just flavor text
There's a concept in trading card games, where cards will have 'flavor text' at the very bottom of the card. Each piece is a great window into the story of the game, if you read it.
I had a dream last night,
Where I was singing Christmas carols,
With Bob Ross.
He didn't know the words,
To "Silent night."
It was a real weird dream.
You're a gorgon,
You turn people to stone.
You set your gaze on people I love,
Just to spite me.
You turn them into monsters,
I can't believe I knew.
Anybody know the name of the monster from Greek mythology that turns people to stone? I don't remember it.
Who gave you the right, little man,
To say slurs in the dark,
When the paper I write on,
Is the color of your hand.
I overheard a classmate saying a bunch of awful things today, it's sad to think that he probably believed them.
When I went on vacation to Piseco,
I was exploring the rocky islands out on the lake.
I slipped and fell,
Cut my wrist against the black rocks I landed on.
My uncle said it wouldn't scar, he was wrong.
Everyone assumes I did it to myself,
But I didn't.
It's why I like my sleeves long.
Did you know that,
The Earth.
Is a master chef?
Based off a metaphor I heard in a video about gemstones in science class. "The earth cooks gemstones over and over again."
I
used To
read My poems
in Talent shows
i Don't think i will this year
i Worry i won't come off as well as the singers and dancers
i know that They will clap the same for me
but Are they
really Listening?
I like writing secret sentences in these, it's pretty fun.
I miss the way,
She used to hold me,
When we were us,
Hope you all are having a great day! Thanks for getting Scrapbook Poem #5 on the front page.
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