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Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
Spongy semolina cake
toothsome lemon kiss
rich, orange-blossom syrup
gold-kissed and fragrant
So buttery sweet
Twenty-second Epulaeryu!
Ok, I know there are two variants of this cake, the Turkish one and the Greek one.
I've only ever had this once (the Greek one) and it was really lovely!
I'll try the Turkish one eventually!
Lyn ***
from my palms he wrote aloud
as our eyes are closed
we feel the crowd

supposed as one
taken for two
three time
muliplys you

use me
as but
Joseph Loggi Jul 2017
Can I take a jump
Into the pool
And surround
In a aqua hue.

Can I leap gently
And not break
The surface,
And cause
A disturbance
That breaks
The silence.

Can I breathe in
All the water around me;
Soaking it up
Like a sponge,
Diluting my veins
Till I am none.

Can I swim
In your sea
Till a tempest
Drowns me.
CasiDia Sep 2015
i am
     soft like a
     ***** sponge
     burning soapy water.
          the others were calling
                    i tried to reach you,
                   you told me i should.
                                          but you
         ­                                     answered
                   ­                      so i left alone
                                      because i am
A-S Feb 2015
Acid tears
New divide, old lost
Water calming the above
Wrecking life down under
Blue chemicals aren't enough
Don't you care to stop?
This poem is about how sponges are affected by the bad things human do to nature. With some back ground information on marine life you will be able to get something out of this
Sombro Dec 2014
Some people hope.
And you?
Some people dream.
And you?
Some people laugh.
And you?
Some people try.
What about you?

Me, I cry.
And you?
Me, I trip and graze my bone.
And you?
Me, I walk and hurt my feet.
And you?
Me, I live on a spectrum.
What about you?

You, you chuckle.
You, you accept.
You, you wait.
You, you absorb.

You are not a person.
You are a sponge.
And when you do not squeeze yourself,
All you will do is take in,
Until you saturate
and split your sides.

You, you do not live.
Me, at least I try.
Again, not directed at any of you guys :)
Layla Thurman Sep 2014
Give me rough ***
Give me hard times
Give me all the pain you can
Because I love to absorb it
Just like a sponge to water.
Amour de Monet May 2014
Did I tell you?

I’m kind of quiet… no, really, I am. You should see me around people I don’t know…. Ha, yes, I know you don’t believe me… I talk my socks off around you. But, you’re different. You already know the contents of me… I mean, you may not have read every page in detail, but you get the rough draft. Not many people get that. Man, what a stuck up ***** they say… Miss goody two shoes is too good for us… Not all of us are rich like you they say. Oh, how I wish I was any of those things…it wouldn’t sting when they mistook me for anything but the plains, but instead they see skylines and frosted mountains. I am not as complex, I am not as breathtaking, I am not such a climb. It’s funny. i have it together - it appears from the outside looking in. On the inside, I’m so tired. I know you know this - but they don’t. They don’t see 14 hour days, 98 hour weeks, 5,784 hour years… of on the go, here you can have my time, my peace, my arms, my legs, my soul. They don’t see that. They don’t see me helping the family when they need food that week..and me not eating. They don’t see my sore back, my restless nights, or the loneliness that follows endless hours. I’m the one missing out… and they think I am better than them. If they only knew how much I wished I could be more like them and less like me…. how they are the morning skies… and I am merely a spectacle to their bold colors. They’re outspoken, care free, sociable, …extroverted. I wouldn’t dare say a word. I know even then they wouldn’t get me… not like you do. I just sit back - quietly, watching, listening, absorbing…an abused sponge from one too many passes on the burnt pan. Ha, that’s me. Still giving my all - in whatever pieces are left of me, trying to shine the world. Silly I am. I’m ready to get out of here… or find myself again, and stop smothering my heart. It’s an out of control fire and my day to day has become the dirt. I think if I exhale in a week you may just see smoke pouring from my lungs… I’m burning out. Can you tell?

— The End —