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A T Bockholdt Dec 2017
Big lipped Daddy
slitting yellow paper
and confetti.

Wrapped up caramel caddy
******* down to
the white bone.
Surprisingly even when I am not writing poetry for classes, I am writing poetry for myself!

"Sugar Daddy," is a play on the predatorial relationship that has recently arisen in popularity due to media culture and accessibility. The relationship that can be felt between the "Daddy," and the "Baby," can be demoralizing and make the "Baby," feel like nothing more than candy for the taking. The title and poem is playing off of Sugar Daddy candy that is, of course, enjoyed, until there is nothing left, and then thrown away-
morgan Nov 2017
i want to sit and write poems against your skin
and whisper
pretty words made of sugar
for years of time
that feel like minutes
i want to tell you what you want to hear
Remi Leroy Nov 2017
Staggering to my feet from the icy bathroom floor
One hand raised to shield my swollen red eyes from the
Blinding sunlight filtering through the dew-stained leaves of maple trees
Another hand weakly grabbing onto the porcelain white sink
When a sudden wave of gut-turning nausea caused my knees to buckle
And the white room spun
My vision peppered with phosphenes like holographic dust
My skin drenched in cold sweat

No longer sweet since the day you left me
My blood’s a bitterness you can’t imagine
17.11.25
Adam Gelatt Nov 2017
Dear Whoever You're Really
Like
(Not That You Aren't Yourself Of
Course),

Do you ever worry that
what if someone thinks
you only got where
you've got (so far)
because
of the timing chances
made in starlight making
easier orbits to you like a
tilted pinball and then call it
cheating.....   .............
............as if....they
..never shook. ........
.............. ..well,
I would and I'm not
even middle upper class,
I mean I wasn't brought up
like that tell me did you want-
did you ever meet those
vaunted tabloid energy
keepers and wasters
is that why you were
self-styled
like that when
you started and
did you ever
see the film
Strawberries
with Ingrid
because I
think you
might
like
it
and i
want to
say thank
you for liking
Mr. O'Hara. i bought
one of his poem collections
with my little tip money from
Sunday in the markets selling good
produce. Bought it in a bookstore with
The owner a nice old lady bearing years;
knitted prints on her black bordered tartan;
Your passion made me think to tell
her i liked that faded **** on her
really i did
she called
me dearie
anyways
Frankie
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
the guy could've been a pal but I don't know if my framed support kept chance.
Would it have been able to burn brightly or varied enough for as long as he did?
Maybe that's a good thing a good thing indeed not knowing. Are you wanting to do
that? Not "not knowing" but to give beams like raising barns. Final query but its rhetorical.
After all:
                      What does the world ask of stars but to shine a little night?

Sincerely,
Whoever I Am
8
sweet ridicule Nov 2017
furrowed eyebrows, dark brown like 80% dark chocolate
(and arching wind-blown tree trunks)
these songs are guttural
branching through my trachea like
sugar snap pea vines
erupting into my mouth
(sweetness)
in the most untarnished manner you are
the grand canyon/the great barrier reef/mount everest
(natural wonders) and
nothing short of
(breathtaking)
Love Nov 2017
Like a loaded gun,
there's a smile on his lips,
waiting to be released,
and when it bursts,
it's infectious.
Dori Oct 2017
She’s the girl you call in the middle of the night just to hear the way her voice sounds because you love the way it rings in your ears for hours even after hanging up. It’s addicting because you can’t get over the way the sound runs down the back of your throat because you always believed that love and laughter were the best medicines. She reminds you of being sick and the tea your mother would make you to cure the aching in your teeth and the throbbing of your tongue. She’s the girl that makes a lemon taste like sugar.

She’s the girl you look at when there’s a ninety percent chance of rain. She doesn’t always smile but there’s a light in her eyes that somehow shines brighter than anything you’ve ever seen. You’ve never touched a cloud but the way her cheeks rise and her teeth glow, you know it’ll be the softest thing you’ve ever had the pleasure of kissing.

Kissing. ****. She’s the kind of girl who won’t lick her lips when she’s nervous. But if you were to tell her that you loved her, she’d look away and bite her bottom lip so hard you’d think it should start bleeding. But that doesn’t matter because when you see the lines on her lips and watch the way her teeth radiate even in the dullest light, nothing…and mean nothing could ever stop you from drowning in a sea of blood before you stopped promising to love her forever.

She’s the kind of girl you’d walk through a hundred fires for because nothing could burn more than not having her fingers intertwined in yours.


She’s the girl that makes you question the idea of love in general because she let you go once already without a chance to hear her voice or see her face one last time.
She’s the girl you stay up until 3am writing poems for because you love when she tells you your writing is painful but she understands that beauty comes in waves and sometimes you have to drown to find the surface again.

She’s the kind of girl you go back to and forgive because she’s the kind of girl you can’t stay away from because she’s the kind of girl that you marry.

She’s the kind of girl you hope loves you back
Oliver Oct 2017
I wasn't supposed to fall in love

I promised myself before
I would never fall in love
Because I've already been heartbroken

But you walked in
Carmel skin
Dark chocolate eyes
Powder sugar soft black hair
And a sweet smile

You had a sugar sweet laugh
A voice of cotton candy; soft and light
And a touch as soft as marshmallows

You were sweet enough to give me a cavity, but I loved you

But I have lightly toasted marshmallow skin
Milk chocolate eyes
Green apple hair
And a sweet and sour smile

I have a loud laugh
A voice of pop rocks; crackley and nervous
And a touch as gentle as rock candy

I am sour with a little bit of sweet, I don't think you like me

If I could know your feelings for me I would do almost anything

But I can't know
so I'll just admire you from afar with my milk chocolate eyes and hope that they catch your dark chocolate ones attention
This is about a girl I've known for a while named Miranda that I fell in love with but I haven't told her yet because I'm scared.
Cecil Miller Sep 2017
Ain't no woman for me, no, no,
'Cept the Lady Annabelle.
I'm gonna tell the story,
'Bout how she put me through hell.

I said to my Lady,
"You can have whatever you claim."
She took her box to the Northern fields;
She filled her box with the sugar cane.

I said, "Why'd ja have to break my heart?
Why'd ja have to break my heart?"

Aint't no kind of feeling
Like when your heart is in some pain.
And it don't help at all to know
She filled her box with the sugar cane.

I said, "Why'd ja have to break my heart?
Why'd ja have to break my heart?"
Facebook me at CJ Miller to hear a rough draft musical version. This is the start of lyrics to be set to a slow to moderate blues bass rhythm.
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