"boos" poems
basilisk ****
nonparticular inexecrable exit
art ****
the lips on for breakfast
twilight zip entanglement
meticulous bending and sensual telepathy
fever-sickness
rock 'n roll boo-boos
lilting black 'n blues on the caboose
puppeteering every tasty ***** loose
chews the collar
thighs and necking room
bustling bussers it gives ifs
gets down with
daisy, dior, dkny, grapefruit(purple) to narcisso and pink sugar too
Bliss tainted madness
playing tug-o-war with
January's vacuum
Years of passing down groupies
to the most recent djs playing bad dubstep tunes
and that sickness of seeing iloveyou's abused
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 5:31 AM UTC
1. You could not wait til halftime to check your poem or add one.
2. You wrote a sonnet about pretty horses. (Broncos)
3.You wrote a poem about kittens.(Panthers)
4. As the ball soars through the air, you are reminded of a bird in flight.
5. A Superbowl commercial inspired a new poem.
6. You paused the game with your DVR to write a piece.
7. You think the referees look like majestic Zebra on the African plains.
8. You ponder the coin toss and wonder of chance and philosophical questions as to whether life is like a paradox, then write yourself a poem about it.
9. When a tackle is made, you think upon the animalistic nature of humanity and write a haiku about it.
10. There is a notebook and pen right next to your remote and munchies.
11. You have a neck ache due to looking at your hellopoetry site and then back up at the t.v.
12. You write Peyton Manning farewell poem.
13. The commentator of the game makes a poetical statement and you use it in your latest poem.
14. The crowd boos a player and you feel compelled to write the pain of number 94 in a poem.
15. Last but not least, you might be a poet if you are reading this and the game is on.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 9:29 PM UTC
I make my own soup and I kiss my own boo-boos,
I tell tall tales about love, hell, and voodoos.
I cover up my sadness with jokes, smoke, and malice
Who knew living a tragic life could feel so lavish?
God and I have a pretty tight relationship
I talk to him every night when my fingers touch my lips.
I throw my bones at dogs and contort my soul for fun,
Chewed up, spat out. I’m just like everyone.
-SLuR
Apr 21, 2021
Apr 21, 2021 at 10:30 PM UTC
You say your original
No one like you
But then I see you with straightened hair and Uggs for shoes
You squeeze into a too small shirt
Your jeans are just as tight
You take off your glasses and get contacts
Does that seem right?
The next day I see you
Your look completely changed
Your hair is died black and your nails look the same
Since when did you wear nail polish?
This is not who you use to be
Now every time we talk
We talk about me
You say my hair would look good straightened
You tell me I should wear Uggs
You say my face would look better with make up
When I say no
You get an attitude
Because I am not a copy cat like you
I see your new friends the ones with the same shoes the same colored hair
They changed you do you care
And when did you start to swear
You are exactly like them now
Me I'm not
So I get pushed out of your best friends slot
You talk just like them
You all walk in a line
What did you think I wouldn't notice?
And act like its all fine
Snap out of it
You must be under a spell
I know you all to well
I'm not telling you to ditch them
You have new friends that fine
I’m just telling you to stop being a copycat
Its time
Not its past time but it's not expired
You need to get a grip because this is not right
This is not you
Its societies bite
It’s got a grip on you and it’s holding on tight
Stop being a copy cat be you
All you have to do is be yourself
I'm so tired of this
People dyeing
People crying all to get accepted being a copycat
Isn’t all that great
When you’re a copycat you don’t get everything as gold on a plat
To be a comply cat you cant be real
Because you feel like the it girl all the time
And its hard everyday when you have to act like you’re in a play but your not
This is real life stop living a lie
All you care about is shoes
Next it’s boos
Here comes the drugs and now you’re the person locked up
Then your rejected like a shoe that doesn’t fit
And the it girl doesn’t have it
She has no friends or so it seems
Because she can always come back to me
But you forgot that
Your forgot the lessons you learned from others
How your aunt had a kid at 14
How your sister just became mean
How your brother is hooked on drugs
And soon you will be too
It's like a loose tooth
You want it there and you don’t care if what’s next is better
Being a copycat is like a loose tooth
You need to let it fall out
Or that is what you will do
You will fall out of a great life planned for you
But I don't what you to fall I will hold on
But I’m not the strong
You need to snap out of it just like I said because
Now you wanna starve to death
Better yet you want me to too
That’s not how I roll
That’s not how I do
Because I am not a copy cat
Like you
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
He shyly looks at her.
Everything seemed to quieten to this lovely silence;
a stillness which is pierced by
his
own
steady and sure heartbeat.
By the way her nose twitches slightly and her red lips flutters a little,
she is just about to sneeze.
Ha. Adorable lady.
Bless you?
Bless those eyes that inexplicably managed to see through the
gossamer veils of good and the bad and
above all,
me.
Bless those crimson -No, it is actually a meld of strawberry and raspberry stains. But I won't tell her that just yet.- cheeks.
Bless that lovely soul that you have, the kind that lights up your eyes and peek-a-boos in your smile.
Sweet-heart, you could never be scary anyway.
& And &
bless that smile which can flicker one on my lips.
She sneezes, blissfully oblivious to all these little words that flit around her.
"Bless you, sweets."
He whispers, like
he
always,
always
does.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 7:58 AM UTC
Galileo Galilei--
Physicist, mathematician,
Astronomer, philosopher--
You angered the Roman Inquisition
And later the Pope and Jesuits as well.
Your scientific observation
That the earth moves around the sun
Was deemed a heretical revelation!
Spreading ideas "contrary to scripture"--
A risky endeavor and path to take--
Guaranteed life imprisonment
Or a gruesome burning at the stake.
Under pressure you recanted:
"The earth doesn't move around the sun."
They say that under your breath you muttered,
"And yet it moves." You lost, yet won.
Though you lived under house arrest
For years until the day you died,
Your scientific contributions
To benefit mankind cannot be denied.
It's sad when dogma and ignorance attempt
To force dissenters into compliance.
It's sadder yet that in this century
Too many people still ignore science.
Our thoughts aren't shaped from cookie cutters;
Beliefs don't all fit the same mold.
Praise to the thinkers who soar to great heights
And break authority's stranglehold.
Praise to those who dare to defy
Petrified positions or views--
Who challenge our mind-set and open our eyes
To truth and awareness, despite jeers and boos.
- by Bob B
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 8:55 AM UTC
It is a beautiful bird sanctuary
Where a sparrow chirps, a cuckoo sings
And the parrot talks and the mina speaks
And the peacock dances
There is a great comradeship among th e birds
But a proud crow inflitrates into the place
And prattles and boos the cuckoo
And mocks at the lark
The nightingale sings so melodiously
That all the birds clap and laugh
Except the crow who thinks his bark
Is greater than the song of a lark
He feels as though he were the king of
The park and thinks his bark is sweeter than
A parrot’s talk and greater than a peacock’s
Walk. How long can he bark?
The crow is like a poison in a bowl of manna
How long will the birds bear their woes?
A day comes when they will kick the crow out
He will surely be out of sight
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 6:13 AM UTC
I was just walking around and spotted a golden ladder.
People walking past it, a swarm of people are under it
Yelling up at people, cheering loud when anyone falls down
Some fall and are slightly bruised, some aren't so lucky
Some charge right back up while others walk away sobbing.
As I walked closer, this ladder seems wider at the bottom
And narrows the higher it gets towards the top.
Using binoculars, I saw people climbing up and down it.
I even see some climbers kicking others down
As they climb and take their place like a rat race.
Racing up fast to get a bite of the cheese.
Some are taking their time, others are dashing.
The crowd underneath are cheering for those to fall
I walked closer, a few people looked scared
Desiring to be successful, but fearful to fall
So they never try, they become one with the crowd
The scornful, the haters, and the ones whom fallen.
So I touched the bar, instantly the boos began
Telling me that I am worthless, I will never succeed.
I touched the next bar, feeling hands on my feet
Feeling jealousy and envy by others under me.
I've just started this journey, I climbed higher
Trying to grab the arms of those that are falling.
The top of the ladder is so high that I can't see it
But I know that it's there, there has to be a ceiling.
And what's beyond the ceiling, who really knows?
I hear rumors of prestige, riches, luxury,
Honor, power, but is it really a myth?
As I climb, the crowd throws rocks at the climbers
Helping them to lose their grips and fall off.
The more I climb, the more callous is on my palms
My arms growing sorer, feet sweaty,
Head dizzy, fears increasing, scared to fall
Second guessing the desire to climb this ladder
But at the end, is it really worth it?
Climbing up the ladder of success.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 8:37 AM UTC
There's a party around the block,
Where flamingos run and eggs fall from upstairs.
The roof is tumbling and the pool is overfilled with humans and animals,
There's a zebra and ten monkeys running through the house.
****** *********** is rising everywhere,
To the kitchen and the bathroom, to the backyard and the deck.
Balloons are scattered on the floor,
There's food fights in every room.
There's a car crashed into the wall,
People are running around in togas.
The music is blasting through the glass windows,
Everyone is jugging boos and sniffing toxins.
The bonfire is sparking with Barbie doll heads,
The smell of burning rubber spreads throughout the sky.
People are wild with horse masks on their heads,
They're fist pumping and thumping to the repeated beat.
Males and females are racing around **** in the halls,
Paint ***** and BB Guns are being fired on every window.
Glasses of broken bottles are lost in couches and beds,
People are swinging on chandeliers.
The walls start to buckle and shake,
Cops arrive but are being tazered with their own tazers.
The house is being tee-peed,
No one knows why the tub is on fire.
The music starts to get louder every second,
Tables and chairs are being thrown across the rooms.
There are piggy back rides on the front lawn,
Drug addicts are polluting the air with taboo smoke.
People are sliding down the stairway with helmets and pillows,
Many of the people are hung upside down unexpectedly.
Girls get dragged into the bedrooms,
Fights are happening here and there.
Some people are passed out anywhere,
Others are bungee jumping off the roof.
Furniture is left outside,
Lips are locking in the closet.
Fireworks are going off while people are dunking their heads in water,
Twerking is being done almost everywhere.
The house is a total wreck,
And the sun starts to rise over the horizon.
I don't know about you,
But this party was something new.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC
Step 1: Kiss her, hard.
Step 2: Let her swim through your body and feel her fingernails accidentally chip a piece of your heart off.
Step 3: Do anything and everything that absolutely terrifies you, then do these things again, with her this time.
Step 4: Climb a mountain, then write her a letter once you reach the top; spill your guts out onto that piece of paper and watch as the snowflakes turn into words and -27 degrees turns into excruciating emotions.
Step 5: Realize that death is just another form of telling her that she's beautiful & listening to her sing in the car & watching her graduate from the school we call life & letting her run her sandy toes through your leg hair.
Step 6: Jump off of a cliff made of her memories, then sink to the bottom of that ocean which is filled with contaminated smiles and laughs that you haven't seen or felt in ages.
Step 7: Congratulate her on her new job and marriage.
Step 8: Give her newborn son a big hug, for the both of you; knowing in the back of your mind, that should of been your little boy to give kisses to on all the boo-boos and scratches he gets.
Step 9: Accidentally see her across the park, jogging (so beautifully if I might add), and walk in the opposite direction.
Step 10: Keep on living, without her.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
Face down on the turf
and dizzy from impact
with hands on backs and
words of encouragement
and reassurance that you
probably just got the wind
knocked out of you, that
you'll probably be just fine.
Step up slowly and clutch
stomach and wave off
trainers and push through
dull roars of boos and
applause to find a metal
bench and a warm towel
in appropriate colors for
wiping sweat from above
eyebrows, in order to avoid
obscuring precious vision.
It is hard to see sometimes
where lines live on the field,
which can make it near
impossible to display
adequate decision-making.
Constantly presented with new
situations. Time is of the essence.
It is hard to know when
to let go of the ball and
when to hang on and
shove your way through
the line like it's your job,
like someone is depending
on you. It is easy for some
to move onto the next play
like the last never happened,
and to stay focused on the
goal without dwelling on
the day's past events.
But when you're catching
your breath and laying
on the artificial surface,
pushed over by a force that
seemed much greater
than yourself, you run the
events of the day over and
over again in your head
and wonder how you got
here, and why you are
grinning so wide.
You learn so much about
yourself in the moments
when you're helpless and
mangled on the ground.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
how funny it is
when i was younger
mother would kiss my
boo-boos and bandage
them up.
cause you see im a
bit grown now- and i
cause my own cuts-
mother does not kiss
them- no band aid
do they see
my mother thinks I'm
crazy, my sister believes
im insane. i just shake
my head when they say
that cause i know they
dont know my pain.
you might not believe me
but these cuts keep me
at ease, they allow me to breathe
so please dont think im
crazy, dont call me insane...
ec
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
I am the only actor.
It is difficult for one woman
to act out a whole play.
The play is my life,
my solo act.
My running after the hands
and never catching up.
(The hands are out of sight -
that is, offstage.)
All I am doing onstage is running,
running to keep up,
but never making it.
Suddenly I stop running.
(This moves the plot along a bit.)
I give speeches, hundreds,
all prayers, all soliloquies.
I say absurd things like:
egss must not quarrel with stones
or, keep your broken arm inside your sleeve
or, I am standing upright
but my shadow is crooked.
And such and such.
Many boos. Many boos.
Despite that I go on to the last lines:
To be without God is to be a snake
who wants to swallow an elephant.
The curtain falls.
The audience rushes out.
It was a bad performance.
That's because I'm the only actor
and there are few humans whose lives
will make an interesting play.
Don't you agree?
1.5k
The old man sat in the darkness
Taking in what he could see
He smiled, although slyly
And he leaned in close to me
He said the air is different
You can taste it here abouts
Listen close to what's around you
The air is different...there's no doubt
I didn't understand him
He spoke in concepts, not in words
He talked of feeling the emotions
Of people running 'round in herds
He said, I've been here sixty years now
Seen people come and people go
I used to be the barkeep
But, then that's something that you know
I've seen Elvis and The Beatles
Seen Presidents and Kings
I've seen hearts torn all asunder
And the pain that a war brings
I saw Kennedy on that TV
That, one behind your head
I watched him drive on straight through Dallas
And moments later he was dead
This place was just dead silent
On the day that that man died
And hand to god I'll tell you
I was all torn up inside
I saw soldiers in that Vietnam
Fighting for what? I don't know
I saw them on that TV there
I watched them lining up to go
I saw them having rally's
Taunting those who had the guns
I saw them bringing back the caskets
Of the now dead, teenage sons
That TV showed me lots of stuff
It never strayed far from the news
It always shows the Tigers game
I turn it up to hear the boos
I saw King and Bobby on that set
Taken way to young
God, it would have been a different world
To see what things they might have brung
I sat back and I listened
The old man, went on a while
He waved two fingers skyward
And said, two more beers ...with his smile
My life has been a good one
I've been alone, except for here
I watch the outside on that set
It was then, we got our beer
I remember back when Elvis died
He was the best back in the day
But, me I liked Sinatra
Dean Martin, Bob and Ray
There was folks in here all crying
singing songs, and holding hands
on various occassions
from Lennons death, to Bobby Sands
I never really took part
In the lives of those who came
To spend their time here with me
I only knew a few by name
My job was just to serve them
Not to be their new best friend
I guess that's why I sit here still
Watching, waiting for the end
That set has shown me good and bad
That one, behind your head
It hasn't worked for fifteen years
We got a new one in instead
It's there as a reminder
more to me, than those still here
That life is for the living
And I'm alive while I am here
He rose and turned back to me
Said, it's time for us to close
I'll be back again tomorrow
To watch more highs and maybe lows
I watched the old man shuffle
To his room, and to his bed
Past the TV he saw life on
On the wall behind my head.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
Such joy a day can bring to hearts of men,
The trees bedecked, in finest autumn hue;
A throng of merriment upon the heath,
The glistened lilac, wrought in morning dew.
The drummer boys, a-beating on their drums,
Old peddlers pushing carts, piled high with wares;
Beggars, worn and haggard, as their clothes,
And women, in their finest, catching stares.
The roaring cheers as horse parades go by,
Delivering up the bounty of the feast;
The VIPs a-riding in fine style,
Their open carriage, drawn behind the beast.
As one by one, they climb above the crowd,
Their speeches cheered, with jeers and playful boos;
Then swiftly swinging, onwards with their tour,
The crowds go jostling, chasing better views.
The butcher greets the VIPs with glee,
And demonstrates his mastery of meat;
With sharpened knives, a-gleaming in the sun,
His chopping rhythym keeps a steady beat.
As shadows lengthen, slowly crowds disperse,
With pondrous looks, a day to e'er remember;
And every year, its carnival once more,
Lest we forget, the fifth day of November.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 4:47 AM UTC
I love my little butterfly
Who flits from room to room
Retrieving toys for little boys
And pushing back her broom
I love my little butterfly
Who works from dawn till night
Untangling curls for little girls
And making boo-boos alright
I love my little butterfly
Who floats on house shoe wings
And tells them stories of ancient glories
Of distant queens and kings
I love my little butterfly
Who works the whole day through
Changing diapers and windshield wipers
And cooking chicken stew
I love my little butterfly
And loved her from the start
Each new sunrise her angel eyes
Captivates my heart
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
I grew into my youth without fearing dinosaurs,
Because I watched too many re-programmings of Jurassic Park.
I wasn't aware that my basketball skills could take me places.
I was born here, I ran through cornfields and tall shades of grass,
playing hooky with ******* hopscotch with ******
yet still averaging 24.6ppg while playing only 20 minutes a game.
It seemed so easy and simple at first, doing these things.
My neighbor Craig down the street,
used to work at the children's hospital so he always had access to needles;
all he wanted from me was a stack of metal spoons
that I could steal from my grandmother's house so we could dissolve the ******
“This shit'll make you feel like you could never die”, he would always say.
It was the 3rd quarter of our high school opening game against Fullerton.
We played at the redeveloped convocation 20 miles south of town,
because our high school received a bomb threat earlier that week.
The court constructed with cheers and boos due to my low field goal percentage.
I stashed my lucky line inside of my practice shorts in the locker room,
so I could lie to my coaches about needing some air.
My nostrils captured the effects of this white powdery substance,
as my body started to fail and deteriorate.
I think I felt my heart stop beating when I came to the free throw line.
First shot...air ball.
Second shot...no shot, body falls to the hardwood.
My shoes squeaked like rabid mice without control,
my right leg became convulsive and spastic, my left moved none.
The floor below my body drenched in a bilinear merging of crimson red and **** yellow.
The last image that I witnessed before my eyes left this world
Were the faces of the opposing cheerleaders,
Their young eyes bleeding blue and yellow,
mascara and grief running down their pretty cheeks.
They knew this from the beginning, my parents did.
They thought I had changed and found a new sport to love.
As my body laid on the floor, my parents laid in the belly of the audience,
Incapable of shedding tears,
because their suffering overtook their ability to cry.
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 10:43 PM UTC
MrRight or maybe now or later
Dear Mr.Right,
I think I understand now.
And I get it .
We sit waiting.
Seconds.minutes.hours. days.
For the someone in our life to complete us,
to wrap our wounds and mend our hearts.
To laugh at the jokes we tell even when they aren’t funny. no especially when they aren’t funny.
To challenge us and to make us forget, but allow us the space to remember.
To know when we want to be held,
but don’t know how to ask,
a mate,
a lover,
a friend.
And we wait.
Believing and hoping they will come and rescues us from the tower,
to fight off the demons and the dragons of the mundane day to day life.
And to win our hand, for rescuing us.
And we sit and wait as we expect them to tear down the walls of our imprisonment whether mental or concrete,
as we become less,
we become dormant,
when we have been given the same tools and opportunities to tie up the bed sheets or cascade our hair down, to escape,
to be free, wasting away in the waiting
I want to warn you
I am not sitting on my bed waiting,
do not look for me in the kitchen making the pies to appease your hunger,
I am out collecting treasures,
and having adventures,
and making memories
with hook and finding my way with pirates,
and traipsing with sinners while believing in saints,
you wont find me with apple scented skin but maybe lemons,
or grass,
or the sea salt ocean
or dandelions,
because I am lying in the meadow looking up at the stars breathing in cold air,
and thinking of you
but you will not find me waiting for the world to be put back on its axis or ask atlas to put down his burden,
im not running away, but Im not waiting in a tower held high above life.
Ill be among the disciples and the hipsters, brushing off the mud of my jeans and rolling down hills with children,
kissing boo boos and fighting my own demons.
And one day we’ll meet and I ll ask you where were you when I was waiting and maybe you will say looking for you. or maybe you’ll say I was waiting for you. And we’ll be happy to find each other.
I will not let life pass me by while i am waiting, but Ill put pieces of me in all my letters left to tell you of my adventures,
If you thought Id be less pirate more princess I’m sorry to say maybe it’s better this way. I am not dormantly waiting,I want too much for that, I want to know me before I find you. I want to be single and appreciate the entire bed and not having to share, to look in the mirror and to know my own worth and beauty, and maybe these things will come later in life before or while you are around. I know not your name or the hour in which we’ll meet but tonight I’m thinking of you. Catch me of you can.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC
Maybe the pain on the outside is easier to deal with,
Because we know how to fix it.
Cold water for a burn and an ice pack for a bruise,
A bandage for a cut and kisses for little boo-boos,
Cough medicine for a cold and casts for broken bones.
Insides are harder though-
What's the cure for feeling alone?
Maybe I hurt my outsides because I know I can fix those.
But when it comes to all the awful things I feel inside, I've no clue.
And I can tell neither do you.
You think I'm mad because I make slits in my skin.
Well at least I know how to heal them.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
Oh the boo boos I have to kiss and make better
They are fallen ideas, cracks in the ceiling.
I'm thinking I shouldn't be here
in the 'Where am I in this?'
moment when I step back from the big picture
to look at the museum,
the street that I'm on,
and the nearest highway
that will take me to another town.
Which state am I in
when I drop down, step by step
towards the rose garden universe
with my list of wishes in hand
like I am going to
search for shooting stars
while I wait for the roof to cave in.
May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 4:44 AM UTC
The holding of his joyful trembling arms
will clasp no more pink feeble fingers
for even blood betrayed its passing.
The most beautiful cry
vanished without a single tune
unheard by the looking grandparents.
No unfamiliar friends in white
giving genuine smiles
and congratulations to the dad
but the unacceptable shaking of heads
and unwanted tap at their backs.
Suppressed get-the-hell-out-of-heres.
And the mother?
Nothing is more hurting than to never touch
a thing that she sheltered all her life
To holler in pain of delivering would have been divine
to scream, wonderful
to roar, magnificent
to rip bed sheets
and curse the father while letting it out into world
are mostly gratifying
than to remain silent while the cannula
forces its entry to the abandoned world of unborn.
No stupid peek-a-boos will ever echo in this
haunted crib.
No tingling of rattles
will ever irritate ears in smelly midnights
No nursery rhyme will hum.
School bus will never blow its horn
To call upon the school child.
No stars on a hand.
No you’re-the-best-mom-in-the-worlds.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 10:28 PM UTC
I remember you are always there for me
Sometimes I couldn't see
I remember your love was there for me
I always could see
I remember the way you patched my boo boos for me
We would blow together on my knee
I remember you feeding me
I knew we had little money but you did it for me
I remember you kissing and hugging me
I'll never forget they was all for me
I remember you laughing with me
We'd laugh for hours just for me
I remember the books you read to me
You'd read book after book and taught me how to treat a book just for me
I remember how sweet and perfect you are to me
You taught me how to be kind to one another just for me
I remember going camping and fishing and taking those catfish off the hook with me
You only did that for me
I remember you showing me how to be a great friend for me
You are my best friend to me
I remember everything you knew you taught me
You did it all for me
I remember that you tell me you'll always keep learning for me
You did that only for me
I remember every time you say I love you to me
I knew it was always for your love of me
Mom I remember everything you are to me
I love you and that's from me
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 12:40 PM UTC
Once upon a time, on a site far far away, I would post and not a soul would comment, let alone read...
Minor poet,
I am not even, but odd.
A truth that slaps me unto tears.
I seek your admiration,
admonish your failure to
admonish me, fail me
unto tears.
Your academic hyper-pretensions
gods of overlording silence,
sentence condemnations of the
meagerness of mine deaf,
weary-worn entreaties.
Your ignorance and the
vanity of my weaknesses,
pencil point punctuate my brain,
holes filling up with the
approbation of silence.
Tender unto me
the Onomatopoeia of a concerto of boos,
barrels of bitter alliteratives
regretful rainwater,
send me curses of future inspiration.
immoderate me re my mediocrity!
Try try again, to charm thine eyes,
populate your face with grimaced tears,
penetrate our mutuality
with uncommon verse,
pricking the winter frosted windows
of a enmity and a common enemy.
Another day of self-persauding,
un-succeeding to accept that
successive minor failures,
are undeniably,
a success of sorts,
in a minor way.
A play on words,
as y'all play me.
Mr. Adminstrator, answer me!
Are we not all prisoners of Poetry?
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
Mommy please make other kids like me
Mommy please take away the sting of rejection
Mommy please make it easy to be me without constant judgement
Mommy help me to not worry
Mommy please take away my boo boos
Mommy please mend my broken heart
Mommy please show me how to survive in this cruel world
Mommy please keep me safe from harm
Mommy please show me how to follow my dreams
Mommy please tell daddy to stop beating on my self esteem
Mommy please tell him to love me and not always see the wrong in me
Mommy please help me to get his attention
Mommy please make me whole again
Mommy please don't cry when I go to sleep at night
Mommy please keep praying for me
Mommy please keep watching over me as I dream
Mommy please make it easy for me to learn
Mommy please help me to focus and sit still
Mommy please always tell me you love me
Mommy please never leave me
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 11:51 AM UTC
You used to be one
Who was always there for me
The one I could run to matter what
But I lost you somewhere
And now, I don't think you really care
You not the one I grew up with
The one who fixed my boo-boos
Now you're some stranger
And I feel in danger
Nothing too serious
Just getting hurt
And lied to
And broken
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 2:10 PM UTC