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Malia 6d
Oops, I edit
As I go,
I take a step
Then erase it.
It’s counterproductive,
Don’t I know,
But I see the flaw
Then I chase it.
It won’t go away
‘Til the mirror is shattered,
Whether or not
It actually matters.

So I’ll cut and I’ll add
I’ll rewrite, double back
Only hoping that you’ll
Love what’s left
In the end.
031224

Gusto ko nang magwala,
Gusto ko nang kumawala —
Hahanap ng pluma
At kakatha ng isang tula.

Isa na namang piyesa
Susulpot na parang bula,
Mawawala nang kusa
Lilisanin ang mga tugma.

Alay ko ang aking awit
Minsang mga bala’y mapanakit.
Isisigaw na may dawit
Ang sukli’y kaakit-akit.

Ilang libong mga salita,
Papalibutan ng mga katha.
Isang araw ng pagkukusa —
Isang obra ang maipipinta.
Alice Mar 9
I find myself of late,
Without the words or will to write.

But it's not a quiet state,
It's clogged with bad unspoken rhyme.

I am not the brightest star,
But quite surely I'll still shine.

Whether anybody sees it,
It's all here and it's all mine.
Nigel Finn Feb 28
I wrote a poem, just for you,
Wrought out of pain and tears.
You took the pain, and wrote one too;
It multiplied our fears.

I wrote a poem, filled with joy,
And gave you that as well.
You wrote one too, and helped destroy
Our paranoia's spell.
022524

Maybe some beautiful letters
Were written not in the bed full of roses —
Some write to make their lovers live,
But some… to **** the blurry pages and leave.

Maybe I could write
Until the last dance of the clock…
And I won’t ask another charge
To keep the thumping of my heart.

And maybe I could write
Until the sun smiles
And meet the moon
And bid each other’s goodbyes.

Until the last drop of blood
Shed in tears, falling like leaves unto my feet…
Until my sleep has left my being…
Until everyday meets no end with an infinite kiss.
Renae Feb 21
Release the knots of emotion
bound by cages,
walls that taunt the mind.
Express your frustration
bleed through the pen,
unheard & stunted feelings
leave them all behind.
My definition of poetry
Thomas W Case Feb 19
On days that
I have a
difficult time
writing, I let
my mind wander
to another
place and scene.

Today
I imagine a
musty attic.
It smells like
mothballs and
old perfume.

I stumble upon
an old trunk.
And when I look
inside
I find hundreds
of my poems that
I wrote and
forgot about.
I thumb through
the brittle pages,
and read.

"Hey, not bad.
This one is pretty
good.
Hey, here's one with
multiple layers.
Writing as a
metaphor for
******."

This silly exercise of
mine just netted me
this poem.
Wanderlust of the
mind promotes
creativity.
Now I can nap,
after I ***
of course.
Check out my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P2roycihKc0
Mark Wanless Feb 18
someone asked me if
i was a robot writing
i do not think so
Heavy Hearted Feb 18
Me n mangoz are heading west
Spontaneous with serendipity,
Expressing isn't easily found
When ones pretentiously profound,
Thinking of all the words
But they won't come out
So let's type them together, here
in the cyberspace let's shout.
Did the guy stay- no, the MANGOOOOO
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