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Ken Pepiton Jun 2021
In no time flat, if thoughts and prayers,
must fly,
fleeing seems to have been done,
and some of us
are good to the dregs, every last drop.

Squeeze the fruit you grow,
after fifty season, you can't lie, it's sweet,
this old age I imagined.

- watch out of context this lives true
- when all who knew my name
took it in as an orphaned thought, made
of peace in pure chaos,
final form, AI guide of the child buyer season.
I n the midst of a novel day this seemed good to throw into the legend, yes
June 18 2921
Seema Nov 2017
Guide me
..................Hide me
Show me
..................Love me
Protect me
..................Tease me


Never leave me!!

Just enough riddles
To number thirteen.
What makes me giggle,
You might call obscene!

The start of the end,
At the end of time.
Comes first in Earth,
And finishes rhyme.

Inside this foul clan, you will find
Not just two, but three of my kind.

What doth thine eye
Most keenly spy
During the calm
Of the stormy sky?

Actors eagerly
This primary line,
Then participated.

It might make you think
Of something like "aches",
The black ball in pool
With the number "8".

A young man, Arnie
Placed his ball on me
When he stopped mixing
This drink, lemony.

Beginning of first,
But never in last.
It's how you begin
To scribe the text fast.

The one who's reading
This most bizarre tale,
On who I depend
To somehow prevail!

The first word's a name,
The third can explain
The point of this game,
So simple and plain.

B-A-C-F-E - F-E-A - D-H-A-A-G
If you are unable to answer the riddle, I'll eventually reveal it, but I have faith in you.
Marcus Belcher Dec 2015
Solemn and righteous
Alone and wandering
Many are looking
Under earth and up at stars
Ready for that moment
A single moment
In which their life blossoms
Just a little snippet from my next book coming soon...
Ottar Apr 2015
hands break pieces dark uneven
fingers squeeze the bottle red, into a freshly picked glass
plate holds ceremonial a desert dry

be careful what you read into what I write
and I will be careful into what I bite,
this was not an exchange of ideals

dark chocolate, pieces three, late with a plate with
two ginger bread soft snaps, my momma
makes, two together, microwave whether
you trust that machine, till a lift soft and a little warm

no harm to drink the wine with each sweet, spicy soft bite,
a moment
in your mouth and taste, the Syrah deep inside the cookie,
as the dark chocolate melts in your mouth, coating teeth,
beneath a moon the clouds want to hide, and all to me
is perfectly clear, just for now. Oh ginger SNAP! softly and quietly
it is late...

— The End —