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Red Rose Aug 2018
The first time I kissed you it felt electric
It was cold and raining, and we were hiding from teachers
At a school football game because you were in uniform and didn’t want to be seen
The first time I kissed you we were both holding hands
My head resting on your shoulder and you looking down at me with soft eyes
I sighed and giggled because the moment was too cliche and awkward for a teenage hookup
But then we kissed and it didn’t feel like that
It felt , like I was loved or at least liked
Your lips tasted like cotton candy, which was strange because this wasn’t a carnival
Just a high school football game with hot dogs and Coca-Cola
And when you pulled away and looked me dead in the eye, you said
“That was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”
I laughed because I’m stupid and I wanted to believe that you were honest
And so, for that one blissful afternoon, we were ‘together’ and I liked it
I liked you
So, for that one and only afternoon, my world was only cotton candy kisses
Samuel Hoffmann Mar 2018
From my perspective the world is flat
because I've never been to space,
and love seems like a stupid idea
having only ever kissed my mom's face.

A college degree just seems wasteful,
but I don’t have one yet.
And coffee seems so distasteful,
but that's true, don't fret.

My world doesn't have unicorns
or cotton candy clouds.
Extremely fantasized love movies
plague young teenage crowds.

I know I sometimes seem all together,
please trust me when I say thats not true.
I take a shower, brush my teeth,
And go to bed broken and blue.

I know I might seem stoic,
and yes, most times, that's true.
But honestly, I do love many things,
one of which is you.
Carter Ginter Sep 2017
I don’t wear sweaters much
Especially in the summer
But after a few hours of your embrace
My clothes smell like your detergent.
So I’ll peel off my binder
Strip down to my boxers
And replace that sweater
So I can sleep better.
She bought me this sweater but right now it reminds me of you
Tom Spencer Feb 2018
black dirt
turned belly up
steam ironed
flat to the horizon
furrows filled
with cotton drifts


Tom Spencer © 2018
King Panda Apr 2017
Smell of lilacs bloom
to no end—a nebulous glow of
purple, perfect, and unperturbed—your
poem of lilies with caution tape
snug in my backpack—
your pollen hundreds of miles
away—a firebrick orange
sung again and again. A cotton
blow unlike anything colorful
—a white puff of dandruff before
the rain—a bouquet for
your spring stitched
stem by stem.
CK Baker Mar 2017
fischers rap
on a hot tin roof
bristol creek pools
over rock and seed
english wolfhound (and the barkbuster)
stroll pine lane
vibrant colors
of a cool spring
in cob yellow and
forest green

field mice squander
in cotton wind
goats and ferret
hold seven hour trim
raven and ****
meddle and forage (on a splendid fiaker goulash!)
crickets and frogs
hidden
in swollen grey logs

creepers fill the
cut stone walls
coy wolf high
on a frayed white rope
eagles perched
at trudy’s bend
catamounts laze
on a snow base cedar
(pared arbutus bent  
through a failed ground rock)

brush spider spins
a timely web
brown bears fumble
at the spirit jamboree
quizzical squirrels
crack their nuts
as pillow clouds float
over telegraph trail

12 point dances
on talus and scree
hen hawks float
in a big hard sun
clydesdale and coach
trot copper smith road
(glancing down
on finch and the warbler
whistling through
colander row)

lavender fills
the peat soil box
mountain cats
guard the heavenly gates
black eyed ridge
is wide and open
the country squire hails
this fruitful land
Ma Cherie Sep 2016
Speaking of broken hearts
and mended fenced in mem'ries  
I am painting skies
of tangerine, saffron
& an illuminated lilac hue
against the starkly contrasted crisp cornflower blue, stretching canvas that is
along with all the
other blindingly beautiful colors of a twilight sky

And those dripping cotton candy stratospheric clouds
Ice crystals freezing into supercooled
water droplets
Streaking the sky in cirrus whispers
..I hear them whisper, "hello"...

Blinding beauty
through unadulterated sunlight
I am fleeced like a lamb
watching in awe,
..in wonder
then stomping sounds
of coming thunder,

Finding depth and height
out  in the stratosphere
Blinded by the
After Light
or afterglow
affected by the amount of haze
I'm in a daze
...as I am reaching

High above the fading light
of a brilliant early fall sunset
I take a big breath
of that sumptuous air
and twirl my skirted legs
my painted toes
where I know
I am back
to solid ground

Appreciating the last time
I say sleep well
to you  my dear
summertimes sweet mem'ries
and the fun we had this year.

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Wow....idk. Felt inspired.
NURUL AMALIA Jan 2018
everything is so sweet
like cotton candy sold in the night market
just like vanilla ice cream that melted on the tongue
tonight the sky was bombarded with fireworks
rainbow colors are scattered everywhere
stars have friends
they celebrate
Ingrid Murphy Jul 20
I mended my old night shirt yesterday
pure white cotton
collar frayed and torn
cuffs worn
I took it to hospital when you were due to be born
fresh from its maker then too

Stupid I know
I might have expected some semblance
but it came as shock that you had my eyes
A tiny heart attached to my soul
the midwife forgot that bit

For years I could still catch the smell of newborn You
embalmed in a brand new being
your animal smell earthy and ancient
christening white cotton
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2015
Let me rest among these giant souls that stand
where trees once stood.

Here, greens break into blacky-blues and dragonflies
and dusts of beetle dung grow old withal.

Let me rest among the salmonberry and the tumblewood
of cotton, ash and hemlock, fir and cedar.

And let the wind stir of pine above the fall reawaken me
in early greens and sapling dress, anon.
..
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry from common things.)
Alyssa Adams Apr 2018
I hold my tears
As I fall into you
Your arms so inviting
Your heart out of reach

I let myself dream
That you have always been
The one
For me

I know
That when the sun rises
You will push me away
Once more

And I will fall back

Back into you
And endless loop

I will never be enough
And I will always
Fall
King Panda Jun 2016
this is my excavation to
the days coming along
running hands with laughter
throwing it down on the table
straight
flush
okay, cool


sister, these things don’t matter
when we’re twisting into the sun
with pants that are too short
the fountain rich with
iced chai
tangled with the peculiar
the beautiful
through these moments
I commend
our hearts for finding each other

love is always on the move
as sure as shoe shine
as mahogany
like timidity to relinquish
to let the universe take hold
and instill this emotion
into my body
fit it all in my heart
O, singer of love
fit it all in my heart
the knell
the reverberation
the cotton that lands
on your hair
the sunscreen stuck in my ear

we are a sketch of two travelers
sleeping under stars
the fire
finally dies down
the rapture of the universe
is overwhelming
everything flows
everyone is connected
and this music we hear
is constant
like gentle waters falling

this too, sister
makes my cane solemn
and I draw you in the sand
only to watch the tide
wash you next to me
the emotion
wrangled in English
simply means good
simply means
a full listen and
dear sister
because everything begins
and will be remembered always
as love
Cotton Candy Jun 16
i let softness sit in my chest
cotton candy woven between ribs
sweet and light and a bit sticky to the touch,
hard to untangle oneself from

i let softness take a seat at the table
fold its hands in its lap
smile, nod, and listen with joy
such polite company, the kind you hope stays late

i let softness make its home here
to the best of my ability
welcome it openly and appreciate its presence
try and return its kindness
made this as my first poem hence my username lol,,, i'll try to write more often.
CK Baker Mar 2017
there’s a barnacle scar
deeply ingrained
on the basalt stack
at mark thirty two
whispering summer winds
scented oil
cotton and roe
drift
as waves brush
and shape
the sandstone shore

the briny air
and lost erratic
set a tone to this
pollyanna portrait
it's andrews undulations
and gifted benches
its concessions
and traces of the barry burn
its sculpted driftwood
and sanko lines
make this picture
almost perfect

children play
as venom spews
from the caterwaul pair
those odd looking mates
casting smiles
with arrested despair
settling shots
swiping bugs
dipping and darting
as photo men
and muscles
and long neck seabirds
make their turn

the hunched hoody
and his sorted sidekick
get their fill
(of moss and rubble ~ chubby and kelp)
nice to meet your acquaintance
the pho man would say
an odd drop
and ironic turn
from those horrific corners
of timeless desperation
down by cannon bridge

harbor seals
and carriage horse
are fronted by
raven shade
jolly tides pause
in quiet bays
(with curious looters
and *** pickers)
sand merchants
and field totems
all streamed by the light

cirrus strands
blanket the
outer edge
hovering craft
and shimmering willows
bolt the evening frame
blood orange
and tethered
with a filtered glare
bottle-nose dolphins
and seabirds
(and shifting tides)
are all settling in
for the long night stay
Deen Apr 16
Twist around your own bones,
and sheets,
and moans.
My mouth is no longer yours for the taking.
Twirl around your own selfish woven
cotton candy,
because I have no sugar left for you.
Just sand.
Small, weathered rocks.
Gritty between your teeth,
instead of pleasing
and melting on your tongue.
Your grumbling stomach tells you that you want more,
but you'll starve.
Starve on single packets of **** you bought at the grocery,
on **** you call for,
but are never there to receive.
I went fishing for compliments.
A good night, a good week, a good ****.
When I caught you,
I didn't realize the insides were all rotted out,
or else I would have thrown you back into the sea.
That sea of whatever's and
candle-lit dinners.
Of, "Let's just go with it".
And, "Woah, woah, woah, this isn't what I signed up for".
You drank milk out of a flute,
after we slow danced for the,
'I can't remember-ith time'.
I watched your lips cradle the glass,
my ***,
and then your knees.
After,
you told me you didn't want to anymore.
After you said, "I made a mistake".
After you said, "I miss you".
After you said, "I know you cursed me when the bells rang".
The curse is tasting sand instead of sugar.
annh Jul 4
Spin me some velvet,
Scuff me over with gravel,
Pick me some bluesy strings;
Tie me a bunch of wildflower quavers,
Let’s hear how your phoney sax sings.

Dip me in treacle,
Needle me with soul,
Groove me some dirt and some bass;
******* your ***** devil’s pipe strong,
Let’s play us some bourbon and lace.

Spin me some velvet,
Scuff me over with gravel,
Lay me down in meadowsong;
Rent me a dime’s worth of old dust and daydreams,
Honey chil’, you cain’t do me no wrong.

‘Sometimes I sound like gravel and sometimes I sound like coffee and cream.’
- Nina Simone

‘Sing me a love song in a slow, southern drawl to the tune of sunny days.’
- Kellie Elmore, Magic in the Backyard

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/music/8587751/The-devils-horn-always-plays-the-best-tunes.html
Wayward Jul 2018
I was born out of fur and cotton,
With eyes that were shiny, black buttons.
From the store rack, I always watched the distant tree.
But one fine day, this little girl picked me.

My owner handled me with great care.
I was, after all, her beloved teddy bear.
I seemed to be her biggest comfort,
When she couldn't sleep or she felt troubled.

Years passed by and so did my time.
The little girl didn't need her teddy when she cried.
As I lay with the other toys in the attic,
I realized that my short life was quite tragic.

"Mr. Cuddles! Your child's best friend!"
But who's going to care about me in the end?
I played my part. I stayed with you.
But in the end this is what it came to.

Mr. Cuddles, the lonely one.
Who lies in the attic with his fur undone.
The cotton keeps falling out of his limb,
The once happy bear now lays grim.

                                                    -Waywa­rd❤
I attempted personification for the first time. I kind of relate to this poem though. I feel like Mr. Cuddles. And that somehow is my greatest fear. I fear being unloved and forgotten. I hope I got the message delivered in the poem.
King Panda Jul 2017
dragonflies melt
into each other.
flowers meld
shaded silver
upon silver.
string whips of
cotton float by like jacks
thrown by children,
unsusceptible to
the force of gravity.

the mechanics of
heart machines
crank awake.

steel knees bend dull and
swollen.

venetian mask with
sterling tongue
skims the tops
of tiny toes
and errantly spring-ed
grasshoppers..

warm bodies
in bubbling steel
meadow—
cool in nature,
stolen like
gold
crafted and
crafted again
in heat.
Poetoftheway Aug 2014
"Son can you play me a memory
I'm not really sure how it goes
But it's sad and it's sweet
And I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes"

Billy Joel lyrics from
"Piano Man"*
~~~~~~~~~~~~

when I was very young
I wore Levi jeans and white
Hanes cotton T shirts
my mother bot me,
my feet, Ked clad, red
from the kid's "department" store
on Central Avenue,
the Main Street of my small town

when I was a young lad,
I wore workingman's cargo jeans and
white Hanes cotton T shirts
under red plaid
wooly shirts, itchy affairs,
that I bot for myself
in a real Army Navy store,
desert colored suede boots,
laced up high,
upon my feet

when I was of middling years,
my jeans were khaki pants,
Gap supplied,
and my Gap T shirts,
faded like me,
a non-descript color,
made in a gap of pale pastel colors
from Bangladesh or Vietnam,
pale pastel, like me

so as I slide~decline into
my nursing home years,
I wear unbranded jeans and
white cotton no name T shirts
with matching white disposable slippers,
that the Purchasing Department
bot for me, cause they know,
I like,

a younger man's clothes and
the memories that play all day
lost in day dreaming of a life
well dressed

2:01am
KM Hanslik Jul 2018
Keep your eyes soft and your dreams
up on the highest shelf so you won't take them down too early;
keep everything that you spill in the dark locked
behind your teeth during the day, don't bring it out before dusk;
like secrets we drip over sidewalk cracks
from cotton-candy sticky fingers and leave our names
dissolved under each other's tongues, the warmth of you is keeping me company
as I try to crawl out of my blood again, they told you to leave
a bread-crumb trail in case your heart becomes too watered down by just visiting
to even remember the vacation at all; you carry
kisses on the knuckles of amputated arms,
driving through parking lots with your seatbelts on,
collections of constellations growing
in the bruises on the insides of your thighs, reminders
of salt & the whites of your eyes;

I'll always carry you around
like scuffed knees and the last time I told you "I'm okay",
I wanna press my fingers into you until your skin is melded
with fire and scraps of things that I could never be,
I hope steel rods grow out of your bones and I hope you gather
bruises before you gather dust,
we are all a little lost and lonely but that never stopped
the accumulation of well-spent nights
coughing up new ways to spell my name
(it sounded foreign before you)
leave this on repeat,
we're going in again.
Holding hands to cross the street
Feel the sand under my feet
The way you twirl me, like a cotton candy man
I feel so girly as you wind each curly strand

When I'm growing up too fast
And the world demands a lady
You remind me of my past,
Though it often might evade me

Summer days and autumn leaves
Wading through the endless trees
The way you hold me when I just can't sleep at night
I lay there coldly as you slowly soothe my mind


After all is said and done,
So thankful you're the one
To bring back the daughter in me
Song lyrics for a country tune, written from the perspective of a husband-seeking daughter grown up.
Holly M Jul 2018
empty is not the right word.
what is the word for
not quite empty but not quite full?
there is a glass on the table-
it is not half-empty,
but it is not half-full.
it is just a glass of water.
i am just a glass of water:
not empty, not full;
not happy, not sad-
not anything.
not anything at all.

the clear blue nothingness
reminds me of the fact.
it’s dotted with cotton candy clouds.
i wonder if they are as sweet.
my tongue salivates at the thought.
it is like a land of dreams
without sorrow or pain
yet i am here,
floating lightly
though i feel like a paperweight,
weighed down by the lump in my throat.

it’s hard to remember
what home looks like.
i can’t see in terms of
“where i belong,”
i only see in terms of
“the trees are like broccoli sprouts-” and
“the cars look like hotwheels-” and
“every single one has a person in it, and
they all have their own journeys, and
i am here.”
i don’t think they know how beautiful it is.
i didn’t.

home to me now is a backpack
a couple books
and a trinket from an old friend.
they are the only ones like me:
strangers in a strange land.
i’d like to find my way back someday-
if only i knew the way.
seethroughme Mar 2010
lazy fly on my leg
beer brain and belly
turning on a bed
of cool cotton sheets
golden sunlight
envelops my head
saturday afternoon nap
i smiled as i slept
CEFord Jan 2014
Whispers hello as the first streams of sunlight
inch their way in through their black chiffon veil,
gleaming on our garden of stale breath,
and down feathers.

Whispers goodnight as his proud freckles
become the constellations outside my window,
and the moon stretches her arms
for another night's work.

Whispers sorry after his words became feather-lances
jousting through my arguments until my armor
was askew and torn
at its paper seams.

Whispers tales of tomorrows and fortnights
to come under illusions of rich greens, blues, and yellows
he will finger paint on my forehead
like a warrior.

Whispers goodbyes, sweet and forlorn,
as he realizes promises and paints will not keep the morning
from snatching his prized possession from his cotton laced roost,
leaving him alone with just the rays of the sun
to admire his tail.
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