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TurttleQuack Apr 2019
Hope and joy shines bright in my eyes
The newer my poetry was
The more deep it got
The more you could feel what I was feeling
They all used to be happy
But the poems weren’t good
Anger and depression was the reason for my poetic fire
I’m proud to say now my poetry is bad
Because I am no longer sad
Someone has entered my life to where
I do not have the ability to feel down
He has stolen my heart
But he can keep it
I never knew how to write happy uplifting poems
The best ones were deep
Feelings
So here is where I shall retire
Until I once again am let down by yet another person
I am definitely not done with writing, but for now I am going to take a long pause. I am very happy and poetry is my vent. So until I'm ready to vent again, there's no reason for me to try to escape to my online writing world. Have a good day.
  Mar 2019 TurttleQuack
MicMag
What's it take
These days

To write a poem

That makes the world go mad
That brings the crowds to their feet
That spreads like wildfire
Through a dry winter forest

Is it those excessively long words?
The ostentatiously loquacious
Platitudinous ramblings
Of an insecure mind aspiring
To authentic intellect?

Is it perhaps...
     the "creativity"
               of      varied      spacing
  or...    could it be..... the lack
                              of capitalization
               the loathsome little letters
               screaming out
                         hey, look at us!
         ... or maybe it's
               the punctuation marks,
     littered, haphazardly
          through the text
                    (whether used correctly)
               or, theyre not?!
     despite worrds mispeled
          and a grammar might is broken
   can these gimmicks increase interest
        though miswritten or misspoken?

Is the trick alliteration
Whose bite brightly bids us
To center on the snappy sounds?
Although all along
     unvoiced underneath
Ideas idle in the isles
   (or perhaps the aisles)
Of the mind
To meld and craft and bind
Our thorough thoughts
And worthy words
Into lines
Which
Heard by herds
Raise the
                  Praise for which we
                  Privately, desperately
                  Pray

Maybe it's a magical mix
Of splendid in-your-head rhythm
Marvelous meter that perfectly clicks
Flowing smoothly without schism

Well-spaced stanzas
Well-used time
Well-crafted phrases
Well-thought-out rhymes

Well, maybe not...
     those gems are often ignored
     cast-aside, unread, even abhorred

Why?

Because the modern world
doesn't need your rules
your restrictions
your regulations
your misguided boundaries
your oppression
your antiquated ideas
   of "the right way"
   to write
   to speak
   to act
   to live
   to (fill in the blank)

No, what the modern world needs
is
Negation!
Contradiction!
Resistance!
Revolt!

And poetry whose words
Say the same thing
Repeat the same meaning
Echo the same lyrics
Rephrase the same thoughts
But in an ever-so-slightly
Different
Varied
Altered
Adjusted
Changed up way

Line
After line
Of synonyms
          over
               and
                    over
                         and
                              over
                                   again

-----

What's it take
These days

To not give in
To narcissism's spiral?

But more importantly:
What's it take

To make my poem go viral?
Only halfway cynically written, I swear!
  Feb 2019 TurttleQuack
Kim
We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Almost.
Please don't ever become a stranger,
whose laugh I can recognize anywhere.
TurttleQuack Feb 2019
you said that if i want him,
i should go get him...
would you say that,
still,
if you knew
that the “him” i want
isn’t a him,
but a her?
Dark lies often have a darker truth.
In the End, It will all fit together.
TurttleQuack Feb 2019
Me at 5 years old-

I know that
We are all treated equal.
I don’t believe that
There is hate.
My mind knows that
Everyone loves one another.
Sometimes people lie to themselves and say
People hate each other for their differences.
I remind myself:
I am happy here.
And you can’t tell me
We live in a cruel world.

Me at 15 years old-

We live in a cruel world.
And you can’t tell me
I am happy here.
I remind myself:
People hate each other for their differences.
Sometimes people lie to themselves and say
Everyone loves one another.
My mind knows that
There is hate.
I don’t believe that
We are all treated equal.
I know that
Reverse poems are my favorite things in the world to read.
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