#emma
Everything you did for me is smile,
My veins feel you complete me,
Moments whisper I kiss your soft lips,
And my soul flying to heaven.
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 12:36 PM UTC
Mother of Cowards
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"
So unlike the brazen giant of Greek fame
With conquering limbs astride from land to land,
Spread-eagled, showering gold, a strumpet stands:
A much-used trollop with a torch, whose flame
Has long since been extinguished. And her name?
"Mother of Cowards!" From her enervate hand
Soft ash descends. Her furtive eyes demand
Allegiance to her Pimp's repulsive game.
"Keep, ancient lands, your wretched poor!" cries she
With scarlet lips. "Give me your hale, your whole,
Your huddled tycoons, yearning to be pleased!
The wretched refuse of your toilet hole?
Oh, never send one unwashed child to me!
I await Trump's pleasure by the gilded bowl!"
NOTE: My sonnet is a parody of the famous poem "The New Colossus" written about the Statue of Liberty by Emma Lazarus. Keywords/Tags: America, American history, liberty, United States, Emma Lazarus, The New Colossus, Statue of Liberty, Lady Liberty, torch, freedom, beacon, lamp, light, door, golden door, liberty, immigrants, immigration, refuse, homeless, poor, rich, discrimination, huddled masses, yearning, breath free, giant, fame, free, freedom of speech, independence day, New York, patriotic
Mar 15, 2020
Mar 15, 2020 at 10:22 PM UTC
there once a girl named emma... who deserved the world. we talked so much, we felt so much together through our poetry online. and even though we couldn't see each other in person, combinations of letters being the only way of communication, it was a beautiful thing. we talked a lot about our problems and lifted each other up as much as we knew how to. but life had bigger problems and... we lost contact. the thing is, i appreciated her and appreciate her now even more. she liked every poem i ever wrote, always supporting me in every way she could and it meant so much. i just didn't even realize it. she helped me through a time when i was struggling and was just trying to be happy with myself. but not once. not once.... did i ever tell her thank you. not once did i even hint it and that is the worst part about it. and it causes the worst feelings in me too. i miss her. i want to talk to her...to reconnect. to tell her that i appreciated everything and none of it was for granted. to tell her that i've moved on and am living a better life. but now i will never have that chance. never. she deleted her hp account. she deleted her instagram that she once gave me. everything is gone of her... except the messages she sent. i know she'll never see this but... thank you for everything emma. i can't thank you enough. you cared for me in a way no one ever had before and i promise i will never forget you. no matter wherever you are right now... i hope you are thriving and living your best life. and if you're not... i'll always be there for you to comfort you just like old times. once again, thank you for everything emma, i really appreciate it. take care em, i love you and i'll see you around in heaven <3
Jan 10, 2020
Jan 10, 2020 at 2:38 AM UTC
emma, 13 years old.
alfredo, 61.
emma: hi grandpa nice to see you what's your wifi-password?
alfredo: i don't have wifi.
emma: written altogether?
Dec 28, 2019
Dec 28, 2019 at 10:04 AM UTC
"he-ll-o beau-ti-ful, i-am-a-ro-bot" a manly robot said.
let's call him LIAM.
"o-my-that-can't-be-a-co-in-ci-den-ce" the mate of
his electronic soul, a womanly robot, answered. her name was EMMA.
"well-i-think-eve-ry-thing-should-be-fi-ne-then", liam
reciprocated. "we-can-go-now."
emma's robotic face glowed in red colors.
"hmmmmh... i-am-not-so-su-re-ab-out-that", she told liam.
"why-not??"
"nor-mal-ly-, a-ro-bot-wo-uld-not-act-as-hu-man-ly-as-yo-u-a-re-do-ing. how-e-ver, i-on-ly-told-yo-u that-i-wo-uldn't-be-so-su-re."
liam's entire construction started to beam with joy:
"do-es-this-me-an that-yo-u-want-me?"
emma smiled at liam.
"yo-u-bet!" she shouted in happiness.
soon, the two robots became one. and they never were separated.
never.
Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 6:24 PM UTC
For Emma Ottinger “I put out (my stories) just because”
“just because”
that’s the best excuse you got girl?
cause be-ing
just
is a **** good one
way back in March
wrote a declaration^ to all those just
beginning with an iota of courage and
a good story telling
way of seeing and the
secret sauce-way
to spin my imagination in
my eye sockets
with their well words,
for I am a drinker of
the beaujolais firsts of the new grapes
of young poets
words welling springing from between
the oohs and ahs and the damns -
I wish I had wrote that...
so here’s a hero push - so many kinds of bread to
fill our baskets, please girl may I have some more?
so here’s to you - and the Great Plains that birthed you,
and the breadbasket of four poem/stories you poured out
that were so far from plain, how could you know of seas and sea foam and cobalt and mahogany human body parts?
and the speech patterns of waves that took me decades to learn?
use those “Jacob’s ladders between your fingers,”
“whistle me like a stray dog following,”
for that’s what “the kingpin of my flighty wits”
requires, for this old scribbler is now:
“firmly rooted for a girl who's bold enough
to crack the whip over her head if
ever went to war with myself.
A confidant that won't run,
won't offer half truth when
the whole of it
is all that actually matters.”
so write with that window light on and
wheat fields that can be reenvisioned as the gray-blue sea
from which I crawled out of croaking...
to read you rightly
6/25/18
10:25PM
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 10:37 PM UTC
On Monday, the cattle feed for 50 minutes.
There are nine prostituted crocodile in Honduras
and Greece. Morocco is not only the Moon
and surrounded by it. Diana showed her a time
that God very much understood. Wednesday,
feed the animals for 50 minutes. Honduran Jews,
Greeks and nine animal harlots. Morocco
is not only the moon and surrounded by it,
Diana Harris tried to show them how to show
more more often. Monday it will be your animal
feeding for 50 minutes. Honduras is the first
Greek nurse with nine prostitutes and crocodiles.
Morocco is not only the Moon and surrounded
by it. Diana's customary poison. Gamma,
than that he should limit its action to the use
of the Side of the Moon. But the suspect's Katharian.
Teens go to ask the Queen for their Pomeranian
Gen. lifestyles and wine? In ancient Greece,
Monday and Thursday philosophers and great-grandchildren
Lance's rebellious nephew Henry. God was in hell.
There is a 1 on the Moon to the moon.
Many are very bad. He knows that the day of the sun,
Apollo, and the light of present-day Amazon.
Albert's medical plan, so the Moon. Rome
this month. Women are very popular in the North.
This item can not be deleted. And it was
an abysmal level crisis in Mexico in 1964,
and many people, including "the United States,
William Hill, Europe, and John Green,"
he said, "it is a good game." Two answers:
Igor and William Williams, Vitalemens,
Goldfunts gold and blue ***** of stars and planets,
Canada's forests, hambosomas, marigolds
and two doctors from Africa, Northern consecration,
the rest of the earth, the rest of the city,
the Jupiter Moon Moon we were deceived
illegitimate and illegitimate children
in Tokyo Moon / Sun and the life of their ancestors.
"Age 64 1-9 of blood in men, blood is not bad,
not that of blood in Brazil, the Russian Natural
Qamirate Brazil is the last major climate
change in the world. Julian and animal life
of Ammon, the pad is the poet's life and legend,
history and glory in the United States the blood
of the people of Abu Dhabi.
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 12:46 AM UTC
Stomach dressed in black holes,
Heart of velvet chained with barbed wire.
Second guessing instinct,
And I attempt to trust the liar.
Sampling my memories
Try to collect what I have learned.
Bringing it, just below the surface.
Is this the life I've earned?
I'd like to believe I deserve more.
In fact, I think I will.
But as of late it seems my life
Is standing perfectly still.
And the God in me
Promises fruition.
"But it can only come,
With a trust in intuition."
3/30/17
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 4:50 PM UTC
There are lots of topper things I adore on earth,
like cats, the moon and drunken mirth
or talking, the sea and a well buttered bun,
nights drawing in or long days in the sun.
Another thing I really like is having a shower in the morning,
it’s the perfect antidote to my just awoke yawning,
the aqua blast helps remove the yearning for more bed
the watery goodness bringing vitality to my head,
the soapy woosh invigorates and vamooses my alarm’s mesh,
I exit the bathroom feeling fantastically fresh
and when I’m sat on the bus to work I think “ohh, someone smells splendidly,
oh wait a minute, yeah, it’s me!
Now although I adore gliding into employment with the fragrance of roses
I don’t always heed my cleanliness craving after dozes,
If I’ve had a alcohol drenched Sunday with lots of venturing out
my wanting for a pre work bathe goes up the spout,
sometimes I’ll awake on Monday after a drunken slumber
and feel like I’ve been covered in a ton of lumber,
and think “right it’s either get up now and scrub myself clean
or hit snooze and have another 15”
as even musing on that is making what little energy I have sap
I pull the quilt tighter and take the nap,
the tiny jot of rest doesn’t even touch the side
and before I know I’m at the bus stop awaiting a ride,
I get on and sit down still knackered as hell
and think, “what is that that stale vino smell?
Ohh I bet someone unfortunate was sat here before me,
one of those who has to choose tween getting drunk and having their tea,
someone who everyday has to have more than a few,
then the penny drops, “Jesus Si that odour is coming from you!”
I’m weary, languid, my body is sore,
and because I didn’t shower I’ve got Pound Shop wine coming out of my pores
yeah 4 for tenner cheap plonk is great to toast the end of the paid employment week
but after 24 hours without a cleanse it pongs pretty bleak,
I’ve got eau de toillete of rotten grape reek.
I hum like I’ve slept in a pre Herculean task Stables Of Aegean that’s been dosed in a dregs of wine pump,
or stench like a on the streets Oliver Twist spliced with a wino Stig Of The Dump.
The bus pulls up to work and before I head in I think I’ll grab something greasy to eat,
ohh, congealed fat mixed with a day on the beers stink, your mates’ nostrils are in for a treat.
I slob to my desk like the unbathed thing I feel
And ponder, “that shower later better be the real deal.”
But, I don’t always rue not having a shower on a Monday because sometimes it means I don’t have the aroma of a stale wine scene,
sometimes uncleansed has me feeling serene!
I remember one unshowered Monday as I’d seen you on the Sunday I smelt of that perfume you always wear,
cos as you’re huggy and tactile it was on my clothes, some of it was even in what was left of my hair,
and as that scent reminded me of you what swirled around me was your awesome breeze,
suffice to say that day of employment passed with ease,
as whenever I got bored of pretending to look at that work thing on Excel
i’d get a hint of your fragrance and my thoughts would propel
with,
your easy wisdom and penchant for a chats
how you like Amaretto and how you love cats,
how you help out animals when they’re feeling brittle
with the tender coo of a Dr Doolittle.
You can take a piece of junk that was discarded at leisure,
decorate it with aplomb and turn it into a treasure,
you’re a burst of energy, a buzzing sprite,
a pleasure to be around, a total delight,
you’re interested in the world, and quantum theory,
talking to you is never dreary,
you bounce around the pub fabulously gassing with the many folk you see,
opening conversations with your splendid key,
**** you seem as popular as me!
Ahh, your joyful demeanour and fantastic soar,
how could anyone fail to hear your wonderful caw;
Emma every time I see you I like you more!
And on those your perfume days when I do get home, hit the shower and feel cleanliness envelop my face
I think, “you know for a ***** day you turned out pretty ace!”!
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 4:41 AM UTC
He was a galaxy, she was part of every song
He was in my bed, she was in my head
He could give me the future I want, she can give me the excitement I need
He was happiness and she was pleasure
He was hope and she was nostalgia
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 12:39 PM UTC
Fortunate fireworks
sing when i'm near you,
such a bang in the sky.
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 5:49 PM UTC
It's a new Her this week
an emma from a building up the street
met in the line of a bar
caught eyes from afar
felt my knees arms and heart go weak
the rest of the night was a haze
we left the bar in a craze
carried through the door
undergarments on the floor
before moving onto the next phase
one more drink from the bottle
and she brought out her novel
she read with such probity
I ripped up my poetry
and turned from a lover to apostle
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 6:48 AM UTC
Emma talked about him like he was tattooed into her eyelids and he would not
allow her to scrub him away. *I swear, he thinks everything is funny when it
makes me mad.* But she still answered his texts like it was the package
she had been waiting for months now, and she still loved him like it was an
antidote for some lovesick disease. I could see the way he ate up her affection
like it was some sort of sugar high, before he crashed into another girl's bed
that had been waiting all evening for him. Last night I watched as Emma and him
kissed for the hundredth time under a dozen stars, her hands pressed around him,
before a dozen of those stars came falling down to the ground, and he
disappeared with a different girl. Last night her tears over watered the lilies I keep
in my bedroom and leaked through the floor. Last night he called and said *Baby,
I wouldn't mind choosing you* and I could hear a female voice in the background
like a bullet shot through the line. It traveled through her eardrums and followed the path down to her heart. Last night I told Emma she was worth more than this. Last night Emma stopped responding to his texts. Last night Emma and I went out and she
kissed another boy who danced with her like they were the only ones in the room,
and touched her like she was something better than his own existence. And last night,
Emma decided to not go home with anyone because she had an evening booked
with a new prince charming who knew how to wait for her.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
Each and every text hit me like
Little sparks of fire,
Each of them igniting
And enveloping me
In this new feeling,
Spreading warmth across my body
Like warm butter,
Seeping in and soaking.
Popcorn popping in my stomach,
Bouncing up and down,
Warm and addicting.
I smiled.
So this is what it feels like to be loved.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
Her burial place is in the records.
We have her lovely name.
She was a benefactor of the friary,
Thus, a prominent soul. Agreed.
Her story, lost forever. O, what a shame.
Nothing more is known of Emma.
Here's her 5 minutes of fame!
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
She's perfect.
Small and comfortable,
Like a cushion
You just have to hug.
Her eyes light when she smiles,
Brown eyes that **** in my very spirit.
I promise myself to make her smile,
Her eyes remind me of leaves in the autumn wind.
Her laughter could put the sun, in all of it's brilliance, to shame.
Her body is beautiful,
Enough to make the ocean weep.
When I am around her,
No other girls even compare,
I am with who I am happy with.
Happy where I am.
I'm not in love,
I just like her a lot.
Well, that's what she thinks
One night, when the stars are bright,
I'll tell her my true thoughts
And hope that they are returned.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
Emma’s Journey
Now no more the slanting rays
Of rain or snow, this poetry
Of weather charting the bright haze
Of days on Earth, sweeping melodies
Did your forget even for a time?
That our days here are limited?
Feel it slipping like an evening hymn
The months become years of lost moments
Most musical and to heaven extending
The loves ones leave us now
The Sun we once held so dear
Is softly descending, O Lord our waiting eyes
This universe as wide as the speed of light
These ***** nightly meditations for what
You would have become, little signs
Of creation and contemplation
While my world is growing dim
Now no more the crimson blaze
Of fiercely loving, give me wisdom
For these tragedies, of losing and loving
And starry pleasures of transcendent gestures
Encoded in art in private moments
Of what it feels like to be lost, anonymous
And solitary, the unexpected sleep
Of a youth dying before their course was set.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
Emma Watson without question is the most amazing woman that has ever existed.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 2:17 AM UTC
Somewhere in this world, I've heard that it's true,
That a creature exists, with huge eyes that are blue,
A small kind of creature, you'd mistake for a mouse,
A small kind of creature, with a small kind of house,
Now this creature is kind and so full of affection,
But the worlds big and scary, so it requires protection,
But fear not young Snuggle-Bug, you are destined to find,
Another such creature, that's also so kind,
A creature that's known, from the east to the west,
As the Snuggly-Buggly if you hadn't have guessed,
Now the Snuggly-Buggly is small but it's strong,
And it holds the Snuggle-Bug in it's arms which are long,
Now it keeps it warm and it keeps it secure,
It gives it some love, and it gives it some more,
If one makes a mistake, a hug's what they're given,
Because each of them knows, they'll always be forgiven,
Now remember this Snuggle-Bug, no matter what you do,
The Snuggly-Buggly will always love you.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC