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#slippers
There is nothing Like making coffee At 1PM In your slippers. There is nothing like Making coffee at one O’ Clock in your slippers. ©2025EllenFinn
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Nov 13, 2025
Nov 13, 2025 at 6:16 PM UTC
There Is Nothing (+Haiku)
Picturebook Princess for Keira We had a special visitor. Our world became suddenly brighter. She was such a charmer! Such a delighter! With her sparkly diamond slippers and the way her whole being glows, Keira’s a picturebook princess from the points of her crown to the tips of her toes! Keywords/Tags: Princess, visitor, charm, delight, sparkly, diamond, slippers, Cinderella, crown, glow, glowing, angel, fairy
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Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 5:09 AM UTC
Picturebook Princess
I'm terribly sorry, my dear for you see, I was on my way up the stairs to fetch them, post haste, when unexpectedly, I was accosted by a sudden, uncontrollable urge to empty the contents of my colon, in more the fashion of the process of urination than of defecation
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Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 11:53 AM UTC
your slippers?
Take off your slippers Girl and Dance With your feet, Your greatest weapon.
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Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC
Ballerina
Warm fuzzy slippers still sit where she left them A beautiful lady closed her eyes for the last time They took her pulse They took her body They took my love They left her favorite shoes In the foyer they sit They wait for her Never to be filled by those tiny feet again
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Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 11:18 AM UTC
Her warm slippers
#112615 #9:55PM Nakaadya ang pares na sisidlan Tangan ang kalasag na paparaan Bibigkis ang kapagalan Isasaplot at pasasalamatan. Ni walang maitulak-maikabig Pagkat sumamo'y patungong Langit Siya'y isasantabi, Sa papag isasalig ang sarili.
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Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
Tsinelas (Slippers)
We are all ballerinas Tying our broken, battered toes Into pretty, pink satin slippers
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Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
****** Ballerina Slippers
The very second I put down my pen, I began my process all over again. I've been getting up at 7 o'clock (am). Why? Such a dangerous question. If I were to wonder why I comb my hair, I'd have the answer. If I asked myself why eat meals at 7:30, 12:00, and 5:00, I'd have an answer. But I don't know why I have answers. Why do I care when I eat and how presentable I appear? I fear someday I'll wake up and ask why I should wear pants, or why even stand? That day, I might crawl to the front porch, and carry a newspaper and slippers to the dog.
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Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
Don't question the daily stretch
My love and I were just seasonal lovers I lost all faith in him he was a scourge to his sensitive pride. Today we are in a different country Our smiles is now upside down Our laugher is seldom heard, Between us is the Brooklyn Bridge, When he uses to look at me his brown eyes tell his soul It’s going to be colder outside, For lovers like us, He with his flannel pajamas And I with my heavy pink robe and fuzzy slippers it's going to be a lonely winter
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Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 9:47 AM UTC
Seasonal Lovers
I have a blue blanket, it looks corduroy but it's synthetic polynesian cotton. Considered by some to be polyester. After the ninth year of ownership I started Telling house guests it had always been mine; but secretly knowing it came from my Ex Kristina who left it with some of her other things in 2005 in my grand deluxe Evanston Apartment. In like some really awesome way, I could fold the corners together to see little blocks Of the Universe form cubes in the fourth dimension and gain a better understanding of my own Little black shmata. Top drawer, white dresser, in the back with the leftover girlfriend underwear between My first ever stuffed animal dog/rabbit. Amazing how these thinned and frayed azure threads had held so many midnight conversations Together- maybe fifteen other girls had nuzzled with Kristina's blanket. Last year the guilt set in. You Watch a girlfriend, say, ratchet through your room naked for something soft to put over her to listen to Some half-stanza from the new Yeats critical and that, do-I-tell-her feeling comes over you. Blue Polyester really had a way with women. My last serious crush, the one of six months, the one from the place that was close to where I worked six days a week, would you believe, she had not interest in that heap of thread, under my pillows spying on us sleep for twenty-four long weeks. "Drop in the bucket" the sixty-year-olds say. I say, bring me my ******* fourth dimension blocks and cubes ************ I want to visit the existential, I want to experience the hoo-ra and Ga-Ga those kids throw around on Milwaukee waiting for $150 NBA slippers. Wednesday is my day for telling the truth. 2:00p.m. sitting in the front of her alizarin El Dorado. "I have something I have to tell you," I said, my mouth practically filled with marbles as I barely could Utter the words: it's not going to work out.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:51 AM UTC
Blue Polyester
I have a blue blanket, it looks corduroy but it's synthetic polynesian cotton. Considered by some to be polyester. After the ninth year of ownership I started Telling house guests it had always been mine; but secretly knowing it came from my Ex Kristina who left it with some of her other things in 2005 in my grand deluxe Evanston Apartment. In like some really awesome way, I could fold the corners together to see little blocks Of the Universe form cubes in the fourth dimension and gain a better understanding of my own Little black shmata. Top drawer, white dresser, in the back with the leftover girlfriend underwear between My first ever stuffed animal dog/rabbit. Amazing how these thinned and frayed azure threads had held so many midnight conversations Together- maybe fifteen other girls had nuzzled with Kristina's blanket. Last year the guilt set in. You Watch a girlfriend, say, ratchet through your room naked for something soft to put over her to listen to Some half-stanza from the new Yeats critical and that, do-I-tell-her feeling comes over you. Blue Polyester really had a way with women. My last serious crush, the one of six months, the one from the place that was close to where I worked six days a week, would you believe, she had not interest in that heap of thread, under my pillows spying on us sleep for twenty-four long weeks. "Drop in the bucket" the sixty-year-olds say. I say, bring me my ******* fourth dimension blocks and cubes ************ I want to visit the existential, I want to experience the hoo-ra and Ga-Ga those kids throw around on Milwaukee waiting for $150 NBA slippers. Wednesday is my day for telling the truth. 2:00p.m. sitting in the front of her alizarin El Dorado. "I have something I have to tell you," I said, my mouth practically filled with marbles as I barely could Utter the words: it's not going to work out.
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