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Amy Perry Jun 22
Posthumously Famous.

That is definitely the name
Of my book.
If not that, a title for this poem.
No, the first line.
It’s untitled.
I won’t restrict myself.
I won’t be led astray.

Poets are just looking for an outlet.
Poets are in anguish.
Poets are on fire.

Let us burn.
Let us burn in agony.
Do not peek your head over,
Dear reader.
You have an obligation.
Work, kids, bills.
Don’t think of us.
We are burning in agony, in fire,
And we do not wither away.
We cannot escape that easily.
Äŧül Jun 22
I wonder what my title will be,
When we are getting married.

Would it be Chiranjeevi,
Or it will be Doctor?

Long-living is Chiranjeevi,
And a PhD-holder is a Doctor.

No, dear Mitali, I will prefer,
To me, people should refer,
As the Poet Atul Kaushal.
My HP Poem #1860
©Atul Kaushal
404
four-oh-four - it's a trap door

An inverted oneryu; I'm experimenting with inverting the form. The original consists of a title and a single line of text. My experiment is exchanging the places of the title and the text body.
Poetic T Apr 8
bells shaking free dew
hymns praise an awakening

symbol of rebirth
Christopher Mar 23
Life will continue and time will pass.
Like Vid-19
You'll only be remembered in class.
Mentioned in the worst ways and times.
¿Te acuerdas de tu hermano?
I'll hesitate and say I remember the time i spent contemplating if I'd ever get you or not.

I get it but why?
Leaving me a responsibility I never asked for.
He's mad and sad,
Doesn't even consider that fact I'm passed out
Blacked out
Crossed now
Passed out
Lost now
Rad.
Doesn't even know the blood forbade the name engraved, he was enslaved to and will change to a new.

Though it won't stay the same, I still hold the title and torch.
The one I'm expected to hold high with pride!
I won't let you down
But i will to him.

I'm sorry all we have is a blurred photo together and that all you could hear was gibberish from my mouth.
But know I love you.
Thick or thin
11.1.19.
Sorry brother...
Anya Mar 4
Back before the woods were long
There came a quiet mourning song
Past the waters, wide and deep
The ancient Lares lay asleep
Without a home to dwell beneath
He stayed upon the withered heath
Seeing the forest climb and grow
Branches buds, then cracked to snow
Winter pushed the winds back west
And from it came a lively guest
She met him there upon the glade
Rotting roots where at he laid
She gave to him a bartlett pear
And knitted shawl for him to wear
Left as she came to border of sward
And skipped across the leafy yard
They met many times and many a year
Her frequent talks to him were dear
She often wore a carmine gown
That married her hair when came unbound
Often she sat against the trees
And simply hummed with pleasant breeze
Some mornings she brought a lyre strung
And with it ballads graced over her tongue
Her smiles were true as was her heart
And every day he wished to not part
He wished to hold her kaolin hands
But his were stiff of bronze and sands
There came a day when she gave no prayer
And long she sighed against the air
She spoke of home, far past the sky
To a land below the mountains high
Seldom remembrance of her birth
Brought forth a smile which held no mirth
She walked back south along the fen
And never once mentioned the country again
When she was gone he only would wait
To see her come down forest gate
And while he waited he sang her songs
Though nothing passed his lips of bronze
Rain swept by the leafy pass
And fell hard upon the feet of grass
He knew she walked when weather was warm
But still he waited within the storm
A malice rode on the passing wind
As if a warning was meant to send
He heard through thicket and swaying leaves
The sound of steps and voice of thieves
Heavy their feet but silently walked
Beneath the trees that viciously rocked
They passed the border of forest and field
Each with torch and swords they wield
They marched with sneers and sinful eyes
And soon he heard the village cries
His voice went out, silent and sheer
And in him sank a lasting fear
The nights horizon flaked with flame
And till the dawn he called her name
There he waited, but she never showed
Forever sat empty the weaving road
Years he cursed the molting land
And wished to **** each mortal man
The leaves ferment in his rotting dell
And beasts escaped its stench of Hell
Long he stood on perished grass
And soon he too would gently pass
There he faded with mist and cloud
And swift his shawl became a shroud
hannah Feb 5
What does it mean
To still be here, living with trees
Tapping at the windows
It's almost like they're asking
What we think we're doing

Waking up on air mattresses
Drinking instant coffee while
Outside, birds will fall
In this twisted dream
A toxic slew of memories

Remember the back of the class
Listening to seventeen covers
Of "Kissing in Cars" and
Going through every last
Tear stained inch of you

Remember the grass beneath my feet
Before you ever knew about me
The school shootings, the rain
Kids crying in the parking lot
Phoning parents, trying not to be afraid

You're the only person I've ever seen
At midnight in an overcrowded kitchen
Leaned against a counter
Like you know where you belong
That night, I saw stars behind your eyes
I don't want to grow up anymore
I don't want you to go.
Amanda Dec 2019
Life is such a simple thing
At 18 years of age

When you have just bought your first car
A black 95' Ford Tempo

Reconstructed title
License plate boldly bearing the name "WRECK"

Keys pressed eagerly into an excited palm
As you head home to learn how to drive a manual


You never ever did get good at operating a stick shift, did you?
Day 22: a poem about your first car

My dad talked me into buying a car I couldn't even drive myself!
hannah Nov 2019
It's too late
For me to be awake
But I am
And I'm still thinking about you

I'm intrigued
Honestly
I want to see more
I want to dive deep
I'm standing at your edge
Watching my own
Rippling reflection

Will you let me in?
I think you will.
I can't stop wondering.
Chris Oct 2019
Ceaseless scratching
The sound of fingernails on skin
Constant
Unending
Rapid
More
I need it more.
Oh god.
Oh ****.
I can feel the Need.
It's all over.
The sensation.
Not even here. Just a mirage.
Just a dream.
Just a fever.
What I want.
NO
What I need.
When will it come?
How long have I waited?
Hours?
Days?
Months???
Or only minutes?
Time
Oh please go faster
A kettle
Boil?
That's it!
If I don't think
Then it will speed up.
How to achieve that though?
Oh,
I did it.
Just thought I'd type out whatever comes to my mind. I'm kind of tired of typing in a bunch of restrictive formats. I like them at times but I just wanted to try something new. Let me know what you think. I'm a **** for attention so I'll do whatever the public wants.
Thanks for reading.
Enjoy.
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