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ria May 2019
I am poetry.
My back is the spine.
My arms turn into the cover.
My fingers smooth into pages.
The prints printed on my thumbs bleed words.

I am a poem,
Every single part of me.
I am all the thoughts the human race has ever had.
I am the mother, I am the dad.

When you want a piece of poetry to feed your mind—
I'll peel the layers off my thumb, ‘til they form sentences,
I'll bend my fingers back, back until they turn into stanzas,
I'll snap my arms crooked, ‘til they cry out titles,
I'll arch my back, and screech as they brand me with the name of my owner.

I am a haiku.
The original OG.
You can't handle me.

I am a sonnet,
Betrothed to Shakespeare.
Like a kid learning his alphabet, and he gets stuck on G:
AB(AB)-CD(CD)-EF(EF)-GG.
My couplets are more star-crossed than Romeo and Juliet could ever be.

I am T.S Eliot here to sing you love songs—
Don’t you cast me to The Waste Land.

I am Maya Angelou ‘bout to free the bird from its cage—
And still I rise.

I am Emily Dickinson finally stopping for death—
You can’t **** me.

I am living, breathing poetry.
My veins bleed poetry—fear this blood.
My eyes cry poetry—see these words.
My shampoo brand is poetry—feel these curls.

Rise,
Stand,
And take up the pen.
Poetry is our oxygen.
Let us all breathe it in.

Our words will save this nation.
From a simple sentence to a conversation.

We are poetry.
We will save the world.

You are poetry.
You can change the world.

I am poetry.
Use me to save this world!

And when I finally die,
I'll be reincarnated into a tree.
I'll be turned into pages for the next poets to use.
And when they do—
    
I'll be free.
Poetry Moose May 2019
A tree in a sublime field

A slumber thickening warmth

The amber sap glistens
This is a Haiku I enjoyed writing. We are all a part of nature. We grow inside, constantly changing, gaining strength. A beautiful strong tree stands out in an empty field.
Virginia Giglio May 2019
If eyes roll
In the forest
Would a tree
Keel over
From ennui?
Just wondering.
Sabian T Warren May 2019
Eye in the sky screams "dreams are not reality;" yet it flies impossibly on whirling bionic wings. "the force is a fantasy," laughs the big screen; yet it motions this ironically through ionic streams. "No power in an evergreen," shrills the factory; cutting from the same cloth that had allowed us to breathe. "That vision? A symptom of insanity;" suggests the PHD, and recommends fixing something so deeply rooted by consuming toxins repeatedly; denying this notion is the very definition of what you suppose we carry. "But don't you want to bee with everybody?" Whisper the walls and empty streets. Could it be that everything is simultaneously, as stone lock and river key? Would it seem that all we need to coax the dread of uncertainty, is to each weave threads of teachings, unique? Bound with an understanding sure as gravity, until we are warm in the cold of infinity, in a quilt of minds set free. ~by Sabian T Warren; AKA ScovilleNova.
Emma May 2019
Claw my big heart out
String my organs to a big tree
Break my ripped neck out
The second haiku for my project
Edith May 2019
If I scream at all
A tree in the woods sees but
No one will hear me
Si fueras tú un árbol,
Quisiera ser el leñador
Quisiera un alma de valor,
Quisiera un hacha de mármol.

Quisiera poder pasar
Mi mano por tu coraza
Y si más no se desplaza,
Tumbarte horizontal.

Quisiera hacer un hogar
De tu torso de madera,
Y en tu pecho, si se abriera,
Una cuna de anidar,

Quiero dormir sobre tu pelo,
Bajo tus ojos de ventana,
Y despertar cada mañana
Besando los pies de tu suelo.

Si fueras para mí,
Tus semillas guardaría
Y en la noche sembraría
Todo un bosque de ti.
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