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Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
Okay honey
Let's spell pollinate
With a bit of math
Anther + stigma = fertilization
Let's pollinate for a spell
Under the quilt
Then over the river
And through the woods
Without any cover we go
Making babies in summertime
May we reap
What we sow
Star BG Jan 2020
A thousand strokes of pain,
my heart does feel.
As moving on thy field of love I go.
A mind field it has come to be
as voice explodes in ears.

Slings and arrows they move swift
with heart to be the open mark.
It hits with power oh so strong.
Your words sting with goodbye.

How does such thing come to pass?
When in your heart I found a home.
Emotions rope to pull so tight,
and light I do not see.

Oh I must stand to face waves.
that hit upon my shore of heart.
The birds still sing a top the tree,
but ears they cannot hear.      

Our vessels shan't meet again,
as flag half mast begins to fly.
My sadness comes to mesh with wind,
while open waters lead.

And perhaps flesh boat shall sail
through sunsets bright again someday.
To find soul who does long for love
inside the sea of life.

Oh to float in beating waves
that calls you as the yacht you be  
You come in time that melts away.
I found a love at last.

Learn did I if cloud tears fall
to understand just what to do
We will yes coast to realign.
A rainbow we will form.

So cockboat of mine is pulled,
by thee to launch a thousand dreams.
And we shall play love songs all night
Our union it is sealed.
This write is so Not my normal write  First I wrote this
To retire or not that’s the question
Wether tis nobler to sling the arrows
of outrageous fortune...
No question no fortune neither way.
and then I exploded with this. The last paragraph came when I looked up different words for boat and found cockboat. It is indeed a real boat.
Bardo Dec 2019
This isn't a poem at all, I mean
  seriously,
There is no poem to be viewed here,  
If I was the police I'd be waving you
  on saying
"Please move on, there's nothing to be
  seen here,
No! there are no poems in this
  vicinity,
I'd be holding up a sign "No Poem here, please go elsewhere to view a
  real poem",
But I bet some of you out there are
  nodding your heads thinking
"Hey! This is something different, this
  is really good,  yea! really clever
He's saying there's no poem here
It's a poem about No poems
A poem saying it's not a poem when
  really it is a poem"

But it's not a poem, it's not!!! (the
  author)

But they'd retort "Yea! A poem going
  thru an existential crisis,
A poem that doesn't believe it's a
  poem
A 'ghost' poem, a haunted poem
The poem that never was
Like a ghost ship floating thru
  the mist
Brilliant! I see what you're doing
  here
Man, that's genius, High Art,
This could be the best ****** poem
  you've  ever written!"

But it's not a poem, it's not! It's a
  mistake, an error (the author again)
I was just amending an older poem trying to make it look better on the
  page
When the Site saved it as a new poem
But it wasn't a new poem, it was an
  old poem
So I went in and deleted all the text
  hoping it would delete the poem
It deleted the text of the poem but gave the poem a title called "Untitled",
And then people went in to view the
  poem entitled "Untitled"
And they found nothing there
And then they got onto me informing me that my poem called "Untitled"
Wasn't showing up on my page
And they thought the Site was acting up.
So I had to write this explaining how
  this wasn't a poem at all
But now you probably think  
  it is a poem
You'll be thinking, "Sure when it comes to Poetry anything goes
It's like Shakespeare, "to be or not to
  be
Poem or no Poem, that is the
  question"
The Ying... or the Yang.
But it's not a poem, it's not !!!
But then I bet I'll hear
" O yes it is, don't be modest now
What a great poem!!!
No, it's not! "Yes, it is!"
No! "Yes!" No! "Yes!"
You just can't win can you???
Someone emailed me to tell me there was no poem here so this resulted, and now there is a poem here ( O No! there isn't). When is a poem not a poem. PS I think I know what I might have done wrong when amending the original poem (but it's too late now)
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
"A little water clears us of this deed."
We wait and we wonder
If he will show.
He trended too soon, perhaps.
A sinus rhythm about to plateau.
"I have a score to settle,"
He said with his last dying breath.
Nevermind the hearsay,
We witnessed with our own eyes,
He dripped like blood.
And now we'll sleepwalk
With Lady Macbeth,
Looking over our shoulder
For any sound of his return.
A time of iniquity,
Reckoners by proxy.
Put them to bed,
Now they are dreams
Descending into madness.
If we **** our conscience, it will always come back to haunt us
Sofia Rybkina Nov 2019
You look at the star. It is smiling,

dancing in the sky. Romeo & Juliette,

Jack & Rose—looks like every story

repeats itself in some certain way.


The sky,

who's been chewing clouds

all day long, is now full

of these shining, gilded little creatures.


They'll show you the way,

they will guide you to your Juliette

waiting for you in her own Verona.


A shooting star is falling down,

breaking, screaming, striving—make a wish!

Juliette is far away, Rosaline is standing

right next to you, blushing in her pure glamor.


Her lips are two petals calling your name.

Romeo! Estimate her beauty,

since it is something you can reach

at this very moment.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
Kids from opposite sides
Of the tracks,
Who got hit by the love train,
Then they got married
And died,
Only they didn't,
So they tried again
And did.
EK Nov 2019
the
rain
of pain

fell down
again

i feel the same
out in the lane

sent from a place safe
to a place


unknown





unknown i am
to myself
who am i
where am i

i feel unknown and all alone


the raindrops have their friends,
not alone in their despair


i am but a lonely rainbow.
alone
but
glorious
this is so sad alexa play despacito
Red Nov 2019
Eyes stare at me from within flowers
engulfing me in a fever-dream of light
storms rage then twist to limp showers
sprites sense the menace and take flight
In such beauty I find paradoxical peril
grabbed by the weeded floor of the ravine
suffocating on this gleaming world turned feral
I succumb to my death of melancholy green
based upon the painting by John Everett Millais
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
On islands of the tropics sweetly sets
over poignant scented bistros and tide
on a rich apricot, painted canvas
a gentle warmth for winter's hostile chide

As bare footed limps deep into the sand
To chirps, to giggles; crashing surf so glad
Briskly washing away all memory
of the wintered homage of Avon's bard

A pale mat lays hush, as red kites ascend
to prey in vast fields of his frigid shire
From a window's sill, his eyes thus pretend
A sonnet on the seaside's to retire

Seldom he escapes winter's icy grip
Shakespeare seaside sonnet: a mental trip
A sonnet for my friends in their winter estate
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