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ryn Aug 2015
.
■■■■■■
|.....l.....|
|.....l.....|

• let the
ticks on
my wri-
st•mirr-
or   that
of     my
pulse    •
for  what
i fail to cle-
nch in fist•in
my heart, nev-
er falters; never
•••••dulls•••••
□□□□□■12■□□□□□
  ■11            ^              1■  
■10                 I                 2■  
■9                    ●----->         3■  
■8                                      4■
■7          ­                       5■
□□□□□□■6■□□□□□□

••••••for••••••
with each tick of
the hand • is a
glimpse into
the uncert-
ain future
• let  slip
the  loo-
se   gra-
ins     of
sand•c-
lose the
tempor-
al  gaps
to bring
you......
much
clos-
er•
jalc May 2016
.

         •we sleep
                                 swad-
                                           dled
                 we manage               tight•
           somehow      to wake            late at
       •and...                  cradled             night•
      the bed                    in the ci-          we toss
   ngle off                      cle of ea-           and tu-
   ms da-                     ch oth-             rn•roll
our ar-                  er's a-             away
sheets•            rms•           and re-
with the                   turn...•
our legs tangle

.
Words by me.
Arrangement by the madly gifted ryn; more of his talent at writing and concrete poetry showcased at http://hellopoetry.com/ryn/
Thank you ryn(:
ryn Dec 2015
.
•look far...
to the horizon•as the sun
dips into the ocean •most magnific-
ent display of colours • radiance in yell-
ows and captivating ambers•majestic specta-
cle that will  dwindle within minutes•no words
could match  such  beauty that deals  in infinites •
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~ si  nk ing unse~en beyo nd the thr eshold• the mi ~ghty ~~
~ ~  s  un grows red der•~night sky cree ps in, with th e ~
~~ ~moon smilin g bold• ad opting her ~stan ce as the     ~ ~
~~  ~ gua  rdi~an hereaf ter• entour age~ of s  tars  ~
      ~   ~*****  le with s peckle s of g old •       ~ ~
        ~   ~      ~ ~ b~idding  farewell t o         ~  ~       ~
~             ~t he su ~n's
~       ~~~
~            ~~         ~  ~     ~
~~ ~                   ~ ~               ~


*ruling sceptre•
Concrete Poem 18 of 30

Tap on the hashtag "30daysofconcrete" below to view more offerings in the series. :)
.
Dorothy A Mar 2017
It’s a horrible feeling when you belong to nobody, and nobody belongs to you. When you don’t matter to a single soul—there is no worse feeling in the world. That feeling nagged Clem throughout much of his life. He used to walk around, wounded and broken inside. Though what he felt inside may never have shown on his tough armor that he wore in public, Clem often felt his life pretty much meant nothing. So how did he ever get to where he was today? How did he get to be so blessed? It amazed him.

Born in 1917, Clem Manning never thought he’d ever make it to one hundred years old, yet here he was. Today was his special day, though he didn’t want any fuss over it all. But he was living with his daughter, Violet, for the past few years, and she wouldn’t have it any other way but to put together a celebration to remember. With a houseful of people, some inside, some in the backyard, and some on the front porch, Clem could say that he no longer felt that he belonged to nobody and nobody belonged to him. It was a beautiful Arizona day, and the distant mountains were ablaze in a fiery purple.  It was a day made for birthdays.  

Seeing one make it to one hundred was rare and amazing sight to witness. To make it this long meant you beat the odds.  Most of all, it was amazing to good, old Clem, himself. His parents died young, long before he could remember them. If others in his family lived longer, he never would have known. The only kin he knew of was his aunt and her husband. They may have taken him in, but he certainly never felt wanted. Both of them slapped him around, punished him by locking him in closets, and prevented him from eating meals when he was bad. They also neglected his needs of decent clothing and a good bed. He had a beat up mattress on the floor or nothing but the hard floor, itself, when he was being punished.  Thankfully, somehow someone intervened, and he ended up in a boy’s home. That place wasn’t a whole lot better when it came to dodging a hard hand, but he was kept clean and with a full belly.

Clem ran away when he was fifteen from that place, and that was in the throes of the Depression. From there on, he fended for himself. His days of experiencing hunger from living at his aunt’s house helped him to be street smart. The petty thievery he learned to master—just to manage to stay alive—continued on beyond childhood.  Like many men, down on their luck and traveling the country, he rode the rails illegally. Just how did Clem survive to be so old, anyway? In his hobo days, he’s been shot at, chased by police, and bitten by dogs. He also almost drowned once in a rapid river, and had a bout with double pneumonia that made him downright delusional and on Death’s door.  

But when the second world war came about, life became easier for Clem. He found his sweetheart, Bess, married her and settled down out west. He wanted to fight in the war, but a hernia disqualified him from joining. His life was surely spared then, for many of his friends were drafted in the army, went overseas, but never made it back alive.    

It sure has been one heck of a life. Resting in his easy chair, he was thankful he still had his wits about him—had a sound noggin—and that he could see and hear still alright—with the help of coke bottle glasses and a hearing aid. Everything that surrounded him was a grand sight to look at, knowing that he helped to create all this hustle and bustle of people in his presence, those here simply to honor him.

He and Bess had three of their own children, Hank, Violet and Daisy, and they also adopted two more, Ted and Sam. It was during those days in the home for boys that Clem saw some of the luckier ones go to good families, selected by potential parents that could give them the secure homes they desperately wanted.  Clem was never picked but picked over. Because he never got that chance, he swore he’d help out those just like him, ones who felt unwanted or ignored, ones that belonged to nobody and nobody belonged to them. He did just that very thing and strove to become the best dad he could possibly be. This was a learning experience for him, and his mistakes were his teachers. Nobody showed him how to be a father, but Bess was his rock and his ally. How he longed to be with her, again.

Clem outlived all of his friends. He lost his sweet Bess fourteen years ago, and buried one of his children—his beloved firstborn child, and it wasn't easy to bury Hank. It should have been the other way around.. There were now thirteen grandchildren, and he never did remember how many great grandchildren that there were, but they were all here now. It was a miracle to have everyone under one roof, as there was family scattered all across the country. He smiled to himself as he thought about how everyone took the time out of their busy lives just for one, old geezer.  

“You better matter to someone right now”, Clem once told a good friend, “Cuz one day you’ll be long gone, and you’ll be lucky if anyone knows your name. It doesn’t matter if you are loved by one hundred people—or one person. That’s how I see it, anyways”.  

With his wife’s relations, and his children and their families, Clem knew the family tree had plenty of branches on it. His life did matter in this world. One of his grandchildren, Amber, mapped a tree out, and she made it all seem so spectacular, and put together like a royal family’s would be. Sketched around the details was a tree done in colored pencil—vivid greens and browns that were eye catching to even a old man with weak eyes—and today it was on display for everyone to inspect and talk about.  

Clem knew very well that his days were waning, that soon he’d just be a memory in the minds of his children and his grandchildren—probably not his great grandchildren who would barely remember him, if at all. Someday, he’d just be a name in the family records of that famous family tree. Like he said to his friend, his name would barely matter to anyone some day. He was simply Clem Manning, a guy who got a break in life and dodged disaster. Maybe only the good did die young, or perhaps he was just too stubborn to die.

But this wasn’t a day for having a sourpuss or for dwelling on the hard things. This was a day to remember for everyone, more than just a birthday for a lucky, old guy that beat the odds. Clem couldn’t eat much of the food made for his birthday feast—too rich or not appealing to his declining appetite—but he promised to have a nice sized slice of cake. It was red velvet with cream cheese frosting, his favorite.

Happy Birthday to you…happy birthday to you…happy birthday, dear Cle-em

Da-ad

Grand-pa

Happy Birthday to you!

There was lots of applause, cell phones out and cameras snapping for picture taking, as Clem tried to blow out the three candles—1-0-0. Thankfully, he had a bit of help from the little ones up close, for Clem wanted to still show nothing was going to beat him, especially three, little, measly candles. But those weren’t just measly candles. They represented so much of who he was.

He still couldn’t believe he made it to see this day. How on earth did he pull it off, anyway?
This uncle was so un-cool to his little niece
every night comes with an endless movement of push- up's on her delicate skin
Her legs torn apart in his own apartment
As he advance to take advantage of her little age..
Ssshhhhhh! BE SILENT
Uncle didn't stop until he broke her *****..
ARE YOU A KID?
WHAT DO I GET FOR PAYING YOUR SCHOOL FEES?
This questions and many more was his key to the vault between her legs..
It just there month pass and her stomach is already raising to the challenge
Her womb bore the evident of his Crime..
Don't panic... He said..
I know a doctor that can take lives
just an injection and a few pills
you be alright..
Buh sadly this were the last pills she ever took...
UNCLE HAS DESTROYED TWO INNOCENT LIVES
Sita Alaska Feb 2014
is such an ugly word.
It's ******
      gory
      heart tearing.

People think they can
                                       understand
                                       sympathise
                                 relate on some level.
That's what I thought-
but you simply
                           CAN'T.

The depth of emotion for such
a blatant mi
                 ra
                cle is stronger
than you could
imagine.

And then it's
               taken
               away.

Against a door
on your knees
doubled over
throat hoarse
eyes swollen
tear tracks
skin under nails
scratches down face.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
chór! i duch!
               blady... rym...
ale i też wygoda powrotu
jako niby żyd... bo
te paluski... i ten *lajkonik
...
kiev w warszawie... na
tym tle: bo to gwar gadania
i autobus w pizdzie nocy i
zimy... ceka... ceka.

   o bodziem...
  punk kot w czekam
i czoło i glebe i rys islamu,
   i szkło skalu w czaszke
i gołote... i ten... pierdolony kosciół!
goły... naked...
         the cat weighs about 10 kilograms
i'm obviously going to head-**** him
to say good morning...

rrrrrryb ah! koscioł! groto i smród!
rekąpis!                   ryba! flu flu flu!
oj tu: pingwin sie zgina! huj! bra!
   tu! zeżre te polsche... te polsche...
zerwie z nią... bo co?
jakie narodziny mam, "celebrować"?
ja na typ o motłoch? baba?!
taki typ by na miet i slóp -czysłav?!
pats! prostak z... miasta...
  chleba mało... tsa zebrać...
seplień seplień se o se: nago
      i choroba... gniew... grób;
padaj! jak gwóźdz w trumne
czy tam gówno w toalete...
       tsa u... tu com sa, tam com sa...
ja na wygnań!
        ja wygnany, co mi te poloki?
półtłoki? boli, nie? zyh poza granicą,
tam, dam ci kwit i... kćuka!
                 kćuka! na witaj huju!
potem -senką: za casów Herod'a...
  co sfe: pio... senką; taki tanz: oi! ola ola o!

taki zemnie polok, jaki ten
pierw żyd, co pyta:
  
  pytam... bo czekam...

(choir and [the] ghost).

    warto pytać, oto wiem że o nic nie czekam
(nie czekam o nic... po? nie czekam o nic...
po prostu czekam; tak tak, nic nici nić nitka nikt;
kurvfa shoelaces... you ******* deaf
or watching kochaj albo rzuć?       );
tym warte pytać of -zyk-
kiedy nie w... kraju...  or-zelek... or-zelek...
              taki kwaśniewski co tylko sepleni...
blah blah blah... potem na gniew
vay vest vey kal it a p-cle... susumber: or cueue...
         oi oi! wrona! hej! wrona!              co tam?!
eh, ten rojs siber tesz popierdolony...
rrrrreeee lee, wrona! co tam?
o kurva... terz troche... mmm uhum... mm... eh?
   is bez powrotu... taki... niby...
dobry fason i wybór słów
    jako dobry wójek... po glebie jak po
grzbiecie psa
...
ah ten pysk.... taki dobry pies
mógł być, a potem, nagle, naturalnie:
wściek! pyska... harem! harem!
         harem! grypa! grypa! ugh!
                                golem!
    co tam wyrośnie, to tam nigdy nie było...
ani cebula co płacze, ani
           burak któremu zęby
   wypadają...
      oś? czy... osa? i z tym językiem
bez tego języka gwarancji?
            taki jam obcy...
   ja nawet obcy gadać obcym... do perfekcji...
jaki to musi być nud... aby było
              jak to musi być, skoro jest?
    last time i checked... pretty **** awful.
Dameon Smith May 2015
I'm seeing things
That aren't there
Maybe it's from lack of sleep
Or maybe cause I don't eat
Either way I can hear feet
Much to sharp to be safe
Moving closer to me.

I see shadows on the walls
I hear crying in the halls
I see a man much too tall
I hear his laughing call.
I see reflections in my phone
I hear screams when I'm alone
I see things no one knows
I hear my mothers worried tone.

FREEZE
Close my eyes
He can't see me
I'll just hide
I'm so close to being free
I just have to quiet my cries
And hope he cannot find
Me hiding here.

I hear him walking away,
I think I'm in the cle-
Cheryl Tan Mar 2015
doorbell, 2a.m.,
she stands there in the cold.
wrapped in a dark grey jacket,
and pain and a dying hope.
he opens up, lets her in.
the fire's warmth feels cold.
she starts crying knowing he'll
never love her again if he knew.

if he knew her darkest secrets
kept vaulted from the world;
all the things that she's ashamed of
that incarcerate her soul.
if he knew she knew she was wrong,
yet in weakness carried on,
how could he love her still?
where would that love come from?

but he opens her heart like a letter,
and reads it inside out.
then, in silent darkness holds her,
until no more tears streak down.
"i've loved you from the beginning,"
he says, and lifts a ***** silver plate.
he wipes it with his white t-shirt,
and with it clean, she sees her face.
"i love everything about you
amidst the mistakes you made
and now i know all that you've done
i love you more, i do," he says.
"i'll wipe all your ***** silver plates;
all the heartbreaks and the shame."
she smiles now, she understands:
she's white as snow, she's not the same.

he sees her to the door now,
as the midnight snow falls down.
he's wiped the darkness off her;
she knows where love comes from.
the snow does not feel cold now;
the cold was from her soul.
"go now," he says, "and when you fall,
you can always
come back
home."

-c.t.
{{as far as the east is from the west}}

thank you.
deyrah May 2021
Read carefully...
If you collected a penny for every time i cried over you.
You'd be broke!
My love for you, withered like a fairy tale, a long time ago.
Each time i see you, i glow up like an anime character!!
Nah, that's a lie, i ***** in my own mouth.
You were like the rush a child gets from much sugar in take.
Now you're like the vinegar that was fed to Jesus!
I'd love to keep this false love going.
But I'm too lazy for the circle.
I'll just keep saying "i love you" so you could keep feeling like you're deceiving me.
But he who laughs last... Laughs what??
Nah, he who laughs last will be an idiot left alone in the room.
That's what you are right now.
Olga Valerevna Jul 2016
But what is the answer when people have died
and why is the question still asked at this time
We've *l
earned to be human in so many ways
attacking the Spirit and numbering days
We've broken the sky yet we beg for the sun
it shines without choosing, on everyone
We're made of the same down to every cell
let's stop drawing lines to put others through hell
The skin on our bodies was beautifully made
akin to the soul we were given in faith
Remember beginnings as endings to come
although they come slowly but hasten for some
As people we're called to be servants of those
who enter our circle when nobody knows
Matthew 5:45
Jean Lewis Mar 2018
It all started with a simple “Hi”
Then developed with a heartfelt smile
Like? Am I seeing it in your eyes?
And that hug? It lasted a long while…

Math: found x, yet I’m looking for you
English: ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRST… VWXYZ… Yes, I really did miss “U”
Science: Neither Einstein nor Hawking has a clue
CLE: Even God knows it’s true…
I really do love you…

I stretch my hand, take it, come with me
I promise, you’ll always be happy
I’ll teach you what it means to be free
You’re the only girl I ever see…

Wish it, I shall lay waste to the best
Name it, I’ll make haste at your behest
Your will be done, though the heavens fall
A chevalier at your beck and call.

In time, I knew you might feel the same
However, these were all such a shame
It may have been easy to say “Hi”
But, she’s even quicker to say bye…
I am finally at my wits end
Guess… we can only ever be friends…
Romantic Relationship (first poem)
- Jean Lewis
December 04, 2017 (my foresight is always accurate HAHAHAHA)
12-Acquaviva, ASHS
  In the honor of a rain with 6 drops for a name...
Every since the day i heard about you things got worse.
I took a reading on you now my wrist hurt.
Time kills i had to carve it in my arm.
Since splitting lines would of made me more insane to the eye.
The people i should say.
I feel high when i haven't even smoke the ****.
And when i smoke the **** you keep me paranoid to think.
I'ma go to jail if the cops catch me smoking on this tree.
When the money the same color of the ***** see.
This why i can't die because i just want to see.
The day it's legalize in the cle.
You my old friend will surely subside because one day hopefully soon it'll be legal to decide if i want to be high.
Depressed i shall remain.
Until i catch a train or fly upon a plane.
To my mother land where even there **** is spooky.
Feel like anywhere i go it's a chance of a scary movie.
But you depression, you everywhere i go.
I can't even have a girlfriend because of the thought of turning cold.
Giving nothing but my full soul in return for her hand.
Then you kick in and tell me she wants another man.
****
Depression wish you would leave now my hand bleeds.
I carved God on my hand so hopefully if he's real he'll see.
That my depression will surely try and really **** me.
And anxiety, your something that makes my nose bleed.
Im done with this depression waiting patiently for bills to past
So i can legally smoke the ***** tree while laying on the grass.
mae
she have skinny leg
an’ knockin’ knees
she be cray-cray an’ loud
she defen’ her right to be
she drownin’ in chems ‘n’ high as a kite
she walk ever’where when she floatin’
she so ol’ she temptin’ fate
how she ain’ died is a mir’cle
Gawd mus’ reely love dat womun
‘zall I kin figger


c. 2023 Roberta Compton Rainwater
han May 2018
I methodically contemplate
time and time again
with different questions
but all from the same basis:
what is my truth?
the scariest answer I’ve found
is what I’ve deemed the truest:
truth is perceptive
and we convince ourselves
what we believe in
therefore each truth is different
and whether or not we’re right
is never entirely cle
May 21st~han
Hugh M Watt Jul 2017
In pain I want for nothing,
It's slain my lust for *******,
In vain I shan't be working,
To gain a woman's raw thing.

**** for a magic potion,
Sliced by a druid's sickle,
I rub it in like lotion,
To cause my seed to trickle.

The lambda is the Greek-L,
But even those gods - fickle
In lending me the mir'cle :
Insertion of a full-grown dickle.

(Now my song is over,
You heard it there in Dover,
Unless drown'd by your lover.
I'll stick to my ***** glover.)

— The End —