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My Dear Poet Mar 17
/Seven start the running
at the shot of a gun
one faulted behind
six continue to run
six kept the running
till another starts to stall
tripping over shoelace
two clambered to a fall
four kept the running
four running strong
come the first hurdle
three running on
three kept the running
till a cramp came along
two kept the running
two going strong
just one look behind
cost one the finish line
one kept the running
past the cheer and cries
one kept the running
only one won the prize
mariella Feb 18
I hope we all win in battles
we don't tell to anyone.
My Dear Poet Feb 17
Sleep,
you deserve some rest
Tomorrow
You’ll be stronger
You’ll stand proud
You’ll even smile
And laughter…it will come

So sleep, be at peace
Have some rest
It’s been a long day
A tough day
But you were brilliant
You were beautiful
you can do this
And you will do this
Ken Pepiton Jul 2021
Had you known, who knows,
according to current time manipulation dramas,
how to make
a device used for aiming a public,
any size…
propagating the faith in-- that character,
drama shapes our social beings, you know,
you know all you know, and the
who are you, to all of you, the devil is real,
Lucifer proves it,
{Ai aight check it} Yah,
gotta match
07%
on YouTube, and who are you reading? random
acts of kindness
deflecting
conflicting kinds of cultural informic acid…
ascend
ants in the family tree?
how old are your mitochondria?

How would an egg tell a tale of parasitic invasion,
that resulted in reality,
as we seem to think this is, reading contrasting
edges of bits enstatiated, dark and light,
- Louise had a piebald poodle named Bit. -btw
Black and white, toy model, noisy
but comforting after the shock therapy in '63
Some
Singer Sewing Stories
from the TVA dam-good reasons.
- leaked into Oakridge,
- you'v been listening,
- to the father of lies…

If you listen too long, eventually you die.
Right. Safe bet.
Where did the you become, this
result of all you knew?
As we see you be,
Informed you, h-ex-ept-t'be-yewas
misinformed,
-cept that, snotspelt gnostic, digitized
info such as this
disinforms that,
we all lie, some times, in error of who
sees what when and in what order
fortuitous use of anointed words,
unspeakable,
we talk that here,
we know all the gnostic snot, muse-like, we
'hold the world on the back of that top turtle.
Slippery,
spelled wrong or right, or improper in text,
of this crystal interconnectifing  iferywas
effectual effing fluid lattice windowed
digertai illuminahtai wit,
pitching infinity beyond
ort clouds of human intentions
blown
to smithereens, those we
sparks,
as the hammer whams the blade, pulled from
the forge, whamms
sizzle set the temper
in this clay, stick the hot blade init,
set - a frame for clay, such as Romans wrote on,
set a base, see, the clay frame,
fits the blade, hilt to tip, but the hiltman
has yet to form the hilt and handle,
and the turban knot
that ties it all, last piece,
the pommel, perhaps this one is
a pomegranate shape, for the legend sake,
let's say…
-- once you have a handle on the knack,
you pull this blade from the stone, the clay, unbaked
becomes, in time, any way, stone;
some day, it shines!
the legend of these blades,
the never edged blades,
set in fine shining clay, true jewler rouge,

one day the hammer that made the blade,
strikes the clay, no
not that way,

some day, a knight called a saint,
shall come in humble submission to the mission in
heirical position, authorized with gold,
to swing a blade, anointed,
called of Peter's Holy See,
don't look
let him try to pull it from the stone,
--------- and the whole crumbled in mythery
No, it was art at work intuiting hear ears
in silence, nada humm
- you sneezed, bless you
and this is the dust

-we were doing inner being never been a hero
therapy,
not all kids have the disney channel, thus
this is not etched in the very characters
you imitate as easily as I
do Simon,
the pi monadic,
scatterbrained whimsy seamer,
seaming in steam,
one thing
to another,
here a stitch, there another, fifty years, and more
we won every war,
we won every war,

we won every war,
that got within a hundred thousand English words of
this action actively involved, literally, actually,
in defining the terms of weaponry allowed,
when war was called to reason… ready
to give an answer for the faith in it,

in the everlasting experiment
becoming
us, then us becoming
something else, too quick to tell,
like something fallen
from the Higgs field, pfft.

Gone.
So... of course, there must be more, for yet, there is war..
My Dear Poet Apr 2021
A silver spoon
still never feeds the soul

A silver lining
still cannot hold back the rain

A silver moon
still brings on the howling

A silver chain
still holds the weakest link
Is it ever ok to come second best?
Laila Ezzelarab Dec 2020
We listen to birds but don't care what they sing,
so let people sing the thing but never let it ring.
Our lungs breathe whether you like it or not,
So let people breathe your name like a shot.
They will do it either way,
So keep being you everyday.
Let their oxygen leave their lungs with your name,
When that happens, u already won the game.
kiran goswami Dec 2020
We are not feminists because we want to win,
We are feminists because we have been losing.
Sarah Flynn Dec 2020
I wrote a poem
about eating disorders.

I wrote a poem
about the pain in my heart.

I said that weight is not
equivalent to health

because weight is not
equivalent to health.

I stand by that statement.
I stand by the truth.



in response, a woman
who I have never met
decided to ask me

how much cake
I ate that night.

to that woman,
and to anyone with
the same judgement
in their tiny hearts,

I would like to
give you an answer.



I do not have
an eating disorder.

I lost a large amount
of weight over a
short period of time.

because of that,
I was complimented.

but the truth is that
when I was that skinny,
I was the unhealthiest
I have ever been.

I had stopped eating.
I was sick. something was
physically wrong with me,
going undetected because

no one thought to ask me
how I was feeling.

they praised me for
my sudden weight loss,
not realizing that

I wasn’t dieting.
I was dying.



I have since recovered.
I have gained back all
of the weight that I lost.

I have not gained back
any of this weight in fat;
I gained all of my weight
back in muscle.



to the stranger
who tried to shame me
because she assumed
that I must be fat,

I run four miles
every morning.

before this pandemic,
I went to the gym
at least five out of seven
nights a week.

I had a promising career
in competitive skateboarding,
which was lost only because
of an injury in which
teenage me broke her legs.

I ran cross-country back
in high school and

only a year ago,
I ran an ultramarathon:
100 miles of terrain
and 24 hours to run.

I am physically fit
and most likely stronger
than you have ever been.



I laughed to myself
when I saw your comment

because you just proved that
everything I said was true.

you provided the perfect
example of society’s twisted
views on weight loss, so
I guess I should thank you.

you immediately jumped
to the conclusion that
I must be fat, and therefore
I must be unhealthy.



your ignorance is sad.
it will get you nowhere.

I can almost guarantee that
your anger and hatred
has not helped you.

your rudeness has
made you the topic of this
poem about judgement.

and unless you are able
to learn empathy,
this might be your life’s
biggest achievement.



to the woman who thought
that her words would
somehow hurt me,

I would like you to know
that you were wrong.

you have made me laugh
at the irony of your ignorance,

and you have made me sad
for you and the awful life that
you must live to have felt a
need to make that comment.

but you have not hurt me.



to that woman,
if one day we ever meet,

or if one day
I meet someone with
the same attitude as you,

let’s compete in an
ultramarathon together.

let’s cover those 100
miles of terrain and
finish that 24 hours of
almost nonstop running.

I hope you realize that
I could beat you.
I could easily win with
you as my competitor.



and finally, to answer
the original question
that for some reason you
felt so compelled to ask:

no, I did not have
any cake that night.



but I hope you know
that if we were to race,

I am confident that
I could still crush you
with three slices of cake
in my stomach.
xXwallflower53Xx Nov 2020
The scars on my skin show the battles I have lost,
but the air in my lungs prove I am winning the war.
A quote I read a lifetime ago that had no name attached. It is my motto.
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