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#wear
unassuming with many masks to wear too many people to be break away from the sense of duty you've come to know. "What lies underneath?"
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Nov 8, 2025
Nov 8, 2025 at 3:06 PM UTC
Many Masks to Wear
I woke up in the middle of the sentence the one I never finished about the cracked ceramic mug in the sink and the way your voice echoed in the hallway like a ghost rehearsing its apology but forgetting the words. I walked past the laundromat the one with the flickering sign that once spelled “LOVE” when the “C” burned out. I thought maybe that was a metaphor but metaphors dress pain in velvet and call it poetry. I saw a man screaming at a pigeon and thought, yes, that’s me, that’s all of us screaming at something that doesn’t blink doesn’t write back. I tried to write a letter but the pen bled and the paper curled ashamed of what I remembered, what I forgot, what I invented to survive. I miss silence before it became diagnosis, before it hummed in my bones like a refrigerator in a house no one lives in. I kissed someone last week and it felt like licking an envelope sealing something I didn’t want to send but did because I’m tired of holding things that don’t want to be held. I keep dreaming of a train that never stops. Everyone I’ve loved is on it but they don’t see me. They’re laughing, reading, drinking coffee. I’m standing on the platform with a ticket that has no date. I woke up again in the middle of the sentence and this time I let it hang like a coat on a hook waiting for someone to come back and wear it.
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Oct 15, 2025
Oct 15, 2025 at 8:44 AM UTC
I Woke Up in the Middle of the Sentence
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me. And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter. I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells And run my stick along the public railings And make up for the sobriety of my youth. I shall go out in my slippers in the rain And pick flowers in other people’s gardens And learn to spit. You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat And eat three pounds of sausages at a go Or only bread and pickle for a week And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes. But now we must have clothes that keep us dry And pay our rent and not swear in the street And set a good example for the children. We must have friends to dinner and read the papers. But maybe I ought to practise a little now? So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple. Jenny Joseph from Warning:When I am an Old Woman I shall wear purple (Profile 2021)
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Nov 8, 2023
Nov 8, 2023 at 7:43 PM UTC
When I am an Old Woman I shall wear purple by Jenny Joseph
My scars scare many But pain is a gold medal I wear wounds with pride
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Dec 8, 2020
Dec 8, 2020 at 8:02 AM UTC
Pride And Pain (Haiku)
I wear scars on my body like first place medals in the pain olympics
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Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 6:24 AM UTC
Pain Olympics
How can I show you I care about more than just your looks or the clothes that you wear? How can I make you understand all I need to be happy is to hold your hand? I know guys hurt you in the past and it doesn't mean much when we say we're different; that we're going to last. So I won't say any of that. I'll just keep on loving you until you love me too. Even if that never happens, there's one thing I need to make sure is clear. Every day I spend with you makes me smile ear to ear
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Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 8:37 AM UTC
You make me smile
Stronger than superman, Smarter than iron man, Braver than batman, He who holds the key to my heart. You catch me when I fall, You hold my hand and lead me out of the darkness, An old,bitter and lonely soul, You transformed to a new,sweet and happy soul, This I say from the bottom of my heart , A model I look up to you as. My sunlight in daytime, My moonlight in night time, I never want to loose you , Not in this would or the next. Can you feel where the wind blows, Can you feel it flowing through, No day goes by and a thought of you does my mind not go through, Can't live without my hero. Whenever I need someone to talk too, You're there, Whenever I need someone to hold on too, You're there, You're someone i never wish to loose, You're someone who owns a special place in my heart, Forever I cherish you deep in my soul, MY HERO....
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Feb 27, 2020
Feb 27, 2020 at 4:51 PM UTC
My hero
We ghetto rich, I'm a Primark star.. I got every piece of original Pri… and I've neve bee marked down in price, I'm beautiful.... No need for rich chick flicks.. I own what I got, make the most of what I'm given. Beauty isn't what you got, its what you do with it, Never looking down always forward. Because I make the most of what I have, you work hard, we make do.. I'm Pre-fabulous... And its not what you wear, but how you wear it.
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Feb 15, 2020
Feb 15, 2020 at 12:28 PM UTC
Primark Beautiful
how many bots could a robot boot if a robot could boot bots?
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Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 3:33 AM UTC
Won one, oh
Ah - the weekend! Time to open my emotional closet, Have a good rummage around, And find something we both can wear.
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Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 5:44 PM UTC
Time For Poetry
There are oceans in my body, In your eyes, And between us. I have walked on water before and drowned. My holy arms and legs said names and wrapped men as presents that they didn't deserve to be. I am prone to wishful thinking And my rapidly closing eyes Are already building sandcastles. Tear them down. Tear them down. Like you wore and tore me down. Set me on fire and end me. Nothing and too much are two extremes I have lived in. Now bridge them and let me die.
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May 1, 2019
May 1, 2019 at 9:40 AM UTC
Two Extremes
What poem will you wear, when first we meet? How will I recognition-you, when you transverse my land? Unknown our faces, our voices, Only silent words electronic exchanged Will lantern, it be: one, if by land, two, if by sea? Will your ID badge, passport stamped and state, Your chest bear a witness-sign? The Arrivals Board flashes:                     une poétesse est arrivé                     eine Dichterin ist angekomme                     a poetess has arrived                     una poetisa ha llegado Will there be a haiku in your hair, A limerick exposed by raucous grin, Or just ten words allotted for your entire visit? **Desperate to locate Urgent to sensate Matters I take Into two cupped hands, On the shoeshine stand Climb and recite-shout** Know me by my words, Know me by the lilt lyrical Of my American accented, Canadian Tongue of my mother Know me by my words, Carved by time on my forehead, Poetry is the blood of this fool's soul, Hear me, find me, look upon me slamming Poems are the thorns in my palms, See me crucified, bleeding stanzas Upon my shoeshine stand cross Recitation resuscitation welcoming: Benedicting Gloria, Gloria, Gloria But if this should fail your attention to secure, Or the TSA unappreciate my second coming, Look for the crowd gathered round, A man of moderate height, in a tall hat, Beard scraggly, looking sorrowful Reciting the Gettysburg Address Either way, Should be easy peasy to find me, Grab your bag, off to short-term parking This is how an Americana poet meets n' greets Arriving poetess from a foreign land Is there any other way? ------------------------------ Postscipt **Alas, five years on and I know in my heart that you are not coming...**
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Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 3:17 AM UTC
What poem will you wear, when first we meet? (Aug. 2013)
What poem will you wear, when first we meet? How will I recognition-you, when you transverse my land? Unknown our faces, our voices, Only silent words electronic exchanged Will lantern, it be: one, if by land, two, if by sea? Will your ID badge, passport stamped and state, Your chest bear a witness-sign? The Arrivals Board flashes:                     une poétesse est arrivé                     eine Dichterin ist angekomme                     a poetess has arrived                     una poetisa ha llegado Will there be a haiku in your hair, A limerick exposed by raucous grin, Or just ten words allotted for your entire visit? **Desperate to locate Urgent to sensate Matters I take Into two cupped hands, On the shoeshine stand Climb and recite-shout** Know me by my words, Know me by the lilt lyrical Of my American accented, Canadian Tongue of my mother Know me by my words, Carved by time on my forehead, Poetry is the blood of this fool's soul, Hear me, find me, look upon me slamming Poems are the thorns in my palms, See me crucified, bleeding stanzas Upon my shoeshine stand cross Recitation resuscitation welcoming: Benedicting Gloria, Gloria, Gloria But if this should fail your attention to secure, Or the TSA unappreciate my second coming, Look for the crowd gathered round, A man of moderate height, in a tall hat, Beard scraggly, looking sorrowful Reciting the Gettysburg Address Either way, Should be easy peasy to find me, Grab your bag, off to short-term parking This is how an Americana poet meets n' greets Arriving poetess from a foreign land Is there any other way? ------------------------------ Postscipt **Alas, five years on and I know in my heart that you are not coming...**
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And the irony is, Those who ask themselves every day Which mask to wear, Are the ones who want me to be real.
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Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 12:53 PM UTC
Mask
You stretched your arm forward and held out your hand I tore out my heart gave it over and waited for you to tear it apart ._   ._   ._   But you took it and placed it on your sleeve although I hoped that maybe you could hide it in a safe and take care of it for me ._   ._   ._   And so there it stays my exposed, beating heart you wear it on your sleeve vulnerable  ._   ._   ._   and you take it with you whenever you leave.
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Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 3:33 PM UTC
you wear my heart on your sleeve
My mom got me a pair of blue jeans I never used to wear Buttoning and zipping was a pain Then we got a dress code And jeans Only, I could wear But not blue Too casual And so they sat forgotten ... Until a few years later In a rush I grabbed something to wear and it was ... ... ... My blue jeans
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Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 2:18 PM UTC
Blue Jeans
A nice day she'd go with who so **** but in the zoo but only there in mild weather kept this best together and this basic trunk and sweater with gallops here soon or to the moon still triumphant in alligator shoes
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Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 8:06 AM UTC
A Nice Day
You look lovely when you wear purple Even prettier when you wear blue But the most beautiful color I have seen you wear so far Is the shade of red you turn when I'm kissing you
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Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 9:18 AM UTC
You Look Good In Every Shade
to ware the flag on wrist of chalice as law made changes there that superfluously kind wouldn't barry their origins to fire that burned wings in gossamer only to aspire their new heights in pink carnations
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Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 8:15 AM UTC
ulterior motive