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Will 4d
Wake with me as the sun sets across the tree lined peaks.
Close your eyes when your lids grow weary.
Fall asleep in our tent, as the sun rises through the night.
Our fire burned bright, as we talked about finding love, losing life, and weeks gone by.
Savor every moment in these mountains, because soon enough this world will pass is by.
Tylese Bennett Dec 2018
nauseous...
I hear a voice screaming,
open the tent...
and there is my best friend screaming...
"help help," she says,
but I could not care less,
for she was being held by a,
big harmless,
shadow...
maybe it was furry,
had claws sharp open,
but for that night,
my tent stayed open...

I wake up the next morning,
for there she is,
not dead,
cooking us,
marshmallows instead...
For it was all in her head.
summer heat
is smooth
thus behoove
a president
to make
the wall
and fight
to keep
the right
wing and
drag under
this tent
with steadfast
loyalty and
thier families
first will
bear arms
a note on immagration
a wand of disappearances
operate in our very
midst
who is the conductor
of its vanishing
gist?

where once our fellow
poets did pleasantly
reside
now the wicked wand
has eradicated their
bide

numerous blank spaces
symbolize the conductor's
vice
employing a wand which
has emptied the
rice

black the hour
black the day
a black instrument
whisking them all too
suddenly away
a wand so dark
of intent
wanting to wane
our writers tent

the subtracting conductor
will be planning future
disappearances
so be mindful of its
wand's unsolicited
clearances
Up until three days ago, poet Rye Sing was actively contributing and commenting on the Hello Poetry site.  I find it most strange that he/she has just disappeared into thin air.
one is so glad
for not being a member
of his harem
exclusion from the inner sanctum
gives one a good perspective
on the everyday doings
between his adoring ladies
one oft sees them bickering
over his attention
the females appear
to be competing
at a super-human rate
hoping he'll send a flashing wink
their way
the sheik
has many choices
inside
his tent
Zero Nine Aug 2017
You think I give a **** how much you kick and scream?
It's actually so ******* cute that you think you're over me.
I know the need to destroy, I know your destructive destiny,
but it's high time, and we both deserve to stay alive. One more
time, I'll beg you ride the rails, arms around me. If I die, I'd prefer
not to be interred by me, all the death in hand as dirt, surrounding.
outstretched fingers
Julie Grenness Jan 2017
Here's a silly little tale,
I hope  a giggle does not fail,
I was cooking Bok Choy in a tent,
On a primus stove, up she went,
You can guess what that meant,
Dinner was a non-event,
Now known as "The Bok Choy Incident!"
Feedback welcome.
Rebecca Rocker Jan 2017
As rain beats down on canvas,
I squeeze my face through the zip.
The clouds are swelling and angry;
The wind hits my cheeks like a whip.

I retreat to the core of my tent
And trip on the wellies inside.
Still covered in last year's mud,
These purple boots fill my mind.

I am fond of my waterproof shoes.
I ponder their rubbery struggles:
Abandoned for most of the year,
But mighty when dealing with puddles.

The water rises and enters,
It covers my groundsheet in mud,
But I've got wellington armour
To conquer the enemy flood.

I must learn to rely on my wellies,
When storm clouds rumble and growl.
I have come to a happy conclusion:
My wellies will not let me drown.

I squeeze through the zip of my tent
And plant my feet in the slime.
I am met by a brave fellow camper
Wearing wellies the colour of mine.

There are porches all over the country
With lonesome wellies inside.
If ever a storm is a-brewing,
Put them on, take it all in your stride.
Life's a Beach Jun 2016
The sound of rain was accompaniment enough

We danced
To the sound of rain on canvas
And the feel of warmth within the cold
The way my muscles ached
The way you sang to me on midnight
Because I was finally 'old'
The way the wind shook the pegs
The way you said 'Goodbye' when
we joked we'd blow away
When we joked that night we'd die
In the eye of
a cornwall storm
You meant it
So did I
"It's been fun"

We danced to the sound of Fight Club
Dragons
and Fatigue
The tent was uncomfortable, but I
never wanted to leave.

We didn't need a DJ
The sound of whispered secrets
Was enough

We didn't need a DJ
Or alarms, because the sun
would make me fuss
Til you pulled my sleeping bag
Over my face
And "shushed" until I slept

We didn't need a DJ
And when I wept
You held me, and told
me that those who left me
were the ones missing out

We didn't need a DJ
Because you made sure I phoned
My Lady
And you helped me sing the duet of
Drunkenness down your phone.

We didn't need a DJ
Each other were enough

And I was...

Happy
Mead in my stomach,
Bruises on my wrists,
Coldness on my limbs,
And warmth in my heart

You're one of my favourite humans,
Thank you for you friendship.
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