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PSR Apr 2017
Egg
Please tell me what kind of life form, I beg
Is growing within this chocolate egg
Qweyku Oct 2016
strange things:
the same hands we raise
in victory are those we
lift in surrender, just as
joy is known because
we've tasted the fruit
that sadness yields.

**© Qwey.ku
Shammyshamsham Sep 2016
The devil's here again,
he always come once a month.
Visits for three days, maybe four, maybe week
It all depends upon his whims.

I often fear when he comes near,
coz' his mind is so twisted
his confusing, his weird
I'm afraid with a snap, he decides not to leave.

He wears a big grin, he's all red and smells
His laugh irritates me, he loves to taunt
He smirks with his eyes telling me "give up!"
It's as if he already won the fight....well he did !

I'm not worried though, I'm fine
because he only comes then say goodbye.
Then all my hunger, frustrations, my fears
Once he leaves, he takes and flee.
I'm on my period, please bear with me.
Cat Luna Feb 2016
I wonder how your lips
would taste?
Would they be sweet
Like how I think
They would be?
Soft like marshmallows?
Firm like a lollipop?
Supple like gummies?
Smooth like chocolate?
But no matter how they taste,
I just hope you like ice cream.
Bastus
Rolling down the hill laughing, tumbling not caring; free as I get coated in grass stains and mud

Careful not to smudge the mascara, applying eye liner and sigh in relief to have not  sullied my face saving embarrassment

Giddy selecting sweets from the colourful array to buy with MY money; as much as I can!

Glancing at my seemingly large stomach in this dress I opt for a salad; as always (bland) but at least  I'll be slimmer

Card trades, the politics of the playground, using trickery and bribery to get the best, feeling like a boss

Eyeing him with a secure hand in his, falling hard, to notice her gaze at him and subtly securing dominance of his heart.

The door bell rings and there stands the gang ready with bikes and water guns to surrender ourselves to the sunny day

The Suns out and the lighting is absolutely perfect for a selfie so with a stretched grin I snap, Photoshop and Instagram

Toys R Us our haven and envious glances at those who could afford the best and most exquisite Bratz sets or card sets

The rare visits to the Apple Store are exciting even to just gaze at the new iPhone 5 and hold it awhile....

The joy oh the joy of reading time, together we sat and took turns, enjoying the sharing of a tale*

With my phone in hand not a minute goes by that I don't check my Facebook page for notifications
/child me VS teenage me/
Charlie Smith May 2015
Last night, whilst I was sleeping,
my dreams were turned into
bubble gum rivers
cascading from my mind in
fruit winder waves, infecting
my body with
artificial fructose and
awakening my reverie
with a sweet
burning desire to
Go!
Do!
Live!
So I follow my instructions
and hop on this candy-covered
illusion and travel,
to a place where sugar can
sprout from my fingers and a
thick toffee sauce
can cloud my brain so I can't
hear the screams of paranoia
that come with
all beauty, and I delude
myself into thinking that
this is life.
Julia Aubrey Apr 2015
I think reflections are some of the most interesting things to look at. you can be looking at a person through a mirrored image without anyone knowing; in fact, they could be looking right back at you, wondering if or when you will say something to turn their blue to a calming gesture for two.

we squint our eyes at each movement, at each word spoken in curiosity, and grip onto the edge of our seats waiting for the "next time" to be for ourselves, our decisions.

we wait for that cherry on top moment to allow the reflections to reflect our dreams and hopes instead of simply enjoying the whole shake.

(j.a.r.)
XIII Apr 2015
No thank you.
I'm sweets-intolerant.
No sweets, no toothaches.
And I hate dentists.
S R Mats Mar 2015
Are we junk?  Waste,
Shard and smear,
Empty symbol made by
“Doled out Poet’s papers,
Hoarded like sweets?”

Our awkward secrets
stumble
cislunar.
2003
Nick Strong Sep 2014
A large penny for the mysterious sweet shop and
A wooden tray of treasures, for my paper twist,
Fingers sticky with sugar, giggling at the silliness
Of a younger sister with a boys haircut

Silver milk bottle tops on a frosty winters morn
Pierced by hungry, pecking ****,  
Finger nails scrapping frost from window panes
Revealing the dim day dawning before simpler eyes

Listening to the breakfast radio show for latest releases
Above a chattering bustling kitchen
Shouting, a little sister curling her hair, that we’d be late
Pelting towards school bus, with Camus stuffed in a torn pocket
Memories of a childhood , long, long ago
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