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You're reaching the town
I left at your incentive
Your verb was a noun
My verb an adjective
I've built a rapport
On breaking my own heart unprovoked
You've built a house
You lie in it and burn to dust
Freestyle written in 3 minutes.
Maria Etre Jan 10
I fell off the bed
little did I know
that I was
something I have already
fallen for
Martin Narrod Dec 2018
well then shepherd in the mess why does that sharpened cowl of wheat surround those sweet yams in the satchel, some scene of loosening transgressions, no pear ripening itself one dull, and one unfulfilling afternoon, rolls down over its branch of sister and brother father and mother Bartletts from the stem, only to make its way into the bottom of that stretched out tawny hide. Where by the wayside every other nobody can see straight inside when a hand moves in, sweeps its fist and then goes deeply down into that can of rotten novelties we all hate, but you feel keeps us in suspense. I wonder will it ever end? Bells busting from the insides of their guts, another candy shock, up and bounces, popcorn kernels, roasted almond slivers, and some preceding green vegetable posted on the 8th St. Diner marquee display on 9th, another advertisement fighting at the sore, devoured hunger for that silhouette following closely behind the moistened wells where my brush dabs lightly into the cup before the gouache and paint mixture begin to dry, that is where I wait and wonder why? Why? Pained with hunger but besmirched with fright, skin sweaty, knotted like muslin yards growing weak against the coil. So humbling were the groans that nearly a decade crossed swiftly across his face, only five or ten minutes had passed before another twenty years flowed into the vast matrix of the rivers of blue sweat marked by estuaries, creeks, and streams across the brow, down the cheeks, and ultimately across the neck, lazing down into the chest, before settling its heavy panic soaking in the guts. Where a heavy glass brick has been vitrifying in the sun, never have two people seen the steamy and piping-hot quarry go from its conviviality and festivity of life, into this shriveled up tree having found its way into the prairie where giant winds bend its branches and enormous thunderstorms nearly strangle it with its own roots. Frisked by sin and pangs of nostalgia in which a thousand thoughts intersplice the whorls imprinted upon our brains.
Thought circles
Jaylin Hoku Nov 2018
I forgot love is a verb;
Prove your words with the weight of your hands
I know from experience how heavy letters can line up to be
Now show me how love acts while it is silent
How resilient it can be when no one is listening
Trust me I will hear the sound of your trials and errors
The gavel will strike
shaking my heart
Forget butterflies
Seeing is believing
Says the visually impaired young lady of a poet
But if you allow my hands to trace your body of Braille
Maybe I will see the weight of your words
And feel your love becoming
Seanathon Jun 2017
Izaak is an introvert
Izaak likes his room and board exactly as it is, so that he isn’t bored
Quiet in his apartment, just as he was in his dorm
But soon his people started telling him, more and more
That he needs to get out more
That he needed to go out an explore
Just in case he ever should look back and wonder
What exactly it was, like if he wanted more?
And so he tried and so he went, out into the world
He spoke and socialized
He brought, and bought and spent until he himself felt very spent and worn
Because Izaak is an introvert, and for the outside he wasn’t meant to be
Let alone to be reborn, and so
After all the stretching, the social pains, the growing norms, which were not wrong
Just different, he was both different, and the same
And in his room, he was welcomed him back
Once again, to the walls of printed ink and paint which he himself did create
Because Izaak, did indeed need to see the differences within his own eyes
But only in time to better understand and represent
The quiet life which he was meant to lead, inside
Because Izaak is an introvert
And no introverted thing is ever truly a waste of time
There is both the stretcher and the stretched. But in the quest, there is nothing wrong, just different. There is just preference. There are just different kinds of songs. All to be sung at the appropriate time. Beneath the sun, and the moon, and the monsoons heavy throng.
JGuberman Aug 2016
Your complexities
are compounded by my simplicities,
and since
you came to me
like the alphabet of a language
I cannot read
you will,
when you leave
depart unchanged.
I will be changed forever
like a root verb
which is built upon
to express
a more complex idea.
Ellie Geneve Dec 2015
This is not a poem about
the feeling.
Give life to the feeling
and act upon it.
Or else,
it will die.
So, go ahead
and love.
love is an action verb
It's quite hilarious
When you say "I love you"
When in fact,
love is a verb
not a noun

Misfitkilljoy May 2015
What is LOVE?
Is it a noun?
Is it a verb?
Is it just a word?
Is it something you say ?
Is it something you do?
Is it Something you feel?
Do you know what love is?
You can Physically Love someone.
You can mentally Love someone.
Love can mean many things.
But its all up to you on how you want to truly define LOVE.
Tulio Farias Apr 2015
Se que las palabras no bastan
Hay que completar con acciones
Porque decir te amo no es suficiente
El amor es un verbo

¿Habrá algún momento
en el que deje de pensar en ti?
Querer verte cada vez mas
Con que me hables seria feliz

No se en que terminará esto
Pero quiero saberlo
Estar solo contigo
Aunque sea por un momento

Que me cuentes lo que haces
Que desahogues lo que quieras
Ser el motivo de tu alegría
Y que solo para ti yo escriba "buenos días"

La admiración esta desbordada
Desde mi perspectiva
A veces me asusto
Pero he sido meloso toda esta vida

Esta situación es incomoda
Porque dispongo de todo
Tu no das nada
Y crean sueños rotos

Llegas de repente
Por acto del destino
Pregunto si es una oportunidad
O una experiencia que irá al vacío

Pero como decía antes
No todo son palabras
Hacen falta más acciones
Mas sorpresas inesperadas

Quizás es lo que falta
Para armar esta pieza
O un motivo más
Para que tu digas "no me interesa"

Pero no creo que tu esperes una
Porque ellas te esperan a ti
Tu vida a mi parecer es un tesoro
Y yo lo quiero conseguir
Estoy aprendiendo como...
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