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Frenchie Jan 2017
I arrive, weary, weak, wonderous
Daily work of a woman, it seems
It's not over, never over...

She sits in her spot,
beneath the shine of the evening sun.
A deep inhale, soft expulsion of my sanity.

I smile into her glare, a calm resolute
To the coming war.
Her eyes like daggers enflaming every flaw.
Of those things entombed within,
That bite, scratch, and gnaw.

And oh how my skin does crawl!
Oh how I yearn for the day to dance upon her in celebration of a life well lived...
Well over.

I love her, in all her 90 ways
I love her much more on her better days

Yet my heart can be fooled
When her monsterous drool
Exudes from her voice
As nails on a chalkboard
Giving me no choice

Her songs of songbirds
Vultures to my fate

You see, sweet little flower lady
Seems tame, makes me to blame
A crazed woman, who only has me
to suffer the sins that she has carried.
Àŧùl Jan 2017
The fairy flew like a dried leaf,
Way beyond the red coral reef,
It flew unto its fairy mom.
The mom was unlike other fairies,
For it is red in colour & has horns,
It also has a pointed fairy tail..
For it is the Devil's own fairy agent!!!
A fairy tale ruined wickedly.

My HP Poem #1363
©Atul Kaushal
Blossom Dec 2016
If I was a dolphin, you'd be the shark eating my fin

If I was a hare, you'd be the hunter killing for skin

If I was a bee, you'd be the kid that crushes my wings

If I was a bed, you'd be the jumper who breaks my springs

If I was a shoe, you'd be the gum that stick to my sole

If I was a lego, you'd be the dog that eats me whole

If I was a child, you'd be the wind that blows me away

If I was a poet, you'd be the thoughts too wicked to say
xerez bridglall Dec 2016
How terrible it must be for the moon to never kiss the sun,
He must long for her warm touch,
To feel her fingers ignite him.
How many more times can he beg the sea to paint a picture of her brilliance,
Only to be met with " her beauty is blinding."
So he chases her in an infinite game,
Whispering to the star crossed constellations,
Of how much brighter he would shine,
Were he to have her by his side.
R Arora Dec 2016
You wrote 12 lines,
Which we spent several minutes on;
Interpreting.

You wicked, wicked woman.

Playing with words,
Simple words;
Arranging them
In an ordinary manner.

For us,
*Creating a labyrinth.
To Stevie Smith's wonderful poem- Not Waving but Drowning. :)
It was complex but witty.
Wicked wicked little heart
why you show up in the dark

Leave me alone
go away now
don’t bite my bone
cause you know just how

Wicked wicked little thought
you show up in my mind and look what you brought

Leave me alone
go away now
don’t bite my bone
cause you know just how

Wicked wicked little feeling
you just keep down my ceiling

Why you make me feel this way
you eat up my smile and leave me grey
so leave me alone
go away now
don’t bite my bone
bye bye ciao

Leave me alone
go away now
please
Storm Oct 2016
lights flashing through the city and polluting the air,
car horns honking and people colliding with your shoulder.
billboards flashing advertisements for the crowds below:
‘get a coke! stop by olive garden! try this phone service!’
and surrounding those screens, posters for the theater.
wicked, lion king, hamilton, and more
go to west 46th street and fight the crowd,
feel the excitement, hear the orchestra, touch the souvenirs,
let even a native new yorker become a tourist for one day
take your seat, admire the view, take some pictures,
listen to the ushers, watch the crowd settle, straighten as the lights dim.
everyone in places--it’s showtime.
Jack Jenkins Aug 2016
Your cruelty as a madman will
Not be unopposed any longer.
Sweltering swagger will be your
Undoing,
Sinking you to the bottom
Of the lake.

Ravens and rats and crows
Will feast on your heinous
Bones
Come undone and be unraveled.
Accept your punishment for crimes
Wicked and debased, born of your soul.
Viseract Aug 2016
Cold steel chains
Constricting pain
Burning sensations
Sanity slain

Heavy weight
Against my skin
Unforgiving
Relentless head-spin

Dry bloodstains
A malicious mark
Guilty as charged
*Repeat, restart
Jack Jenkins Jul 2016
An empty room
   Sand and dust strewn
Sinister malicious feeling
   Baby doll head in the corner
Doorknob turning with no pause
   And a breath across my neck
A nightmare I had recently. One of the few to actually disturb me.
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