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ryn Dec 2014
My last few hours,
In the land of a week's refuge.
Bade goodbye to water towers,
Away with sunsets made of rouge.

Ready to fulfil a previous standing pact
To a life I left and put on hold.
I'll leave you in memories of retrospect.
An experience worth weight in gold.

As always I find myself in the driveway .
Standing all alone, in the dark.
Looking up at what does lay.
Spellbound as usual as the distant dogs bark.

I'm sending wishes into space,
Kisses to the dots in the sky.
Going to miss this place...
As the coming year would go by.

I'd long for you,
My twinkling lovelies in my nights.
Following hours would be through
You'd be replaced by city lights.

For now allow me to drink you to a stupor.
A feast I can't get enough of.
Let these minutes extend into forever...
Goodbye Darwin stars, you have all my love.
Time to go home.
Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
I slept a little last night
But I don't think I closed my eyes
I'll tell you I'm alright
You should know I'm good at lies

I'm tired and terrified
And I'm sick of being scared
My brain is kinda fried
Maybe I'm just unprepared

Maybe a change of scenery
Will cure my misery
I'd like plane tickets but I can't afford 'em
So I'm going to Portland

I had a drink last night
And I was nowhere to be found
I'd like to think it was one drink
Only if the whole bottle counts

I'm a servant to the rush
And I believe in laying low
But when someone says to hush
I like to give it to them slow

Maybe I need to leave
So my mind can finally breathe
I don't need no beach of sand
I'm going to Portland
Antino Art Nov 2018
Raised
in this floating
world, forever
deep.
You can’t drain the ocean

Decidedly from down
south of here
You can’t un-trace the roots.

You can’t lie and say,
“This isn’t where I grew up”
You can’t deny the fruits
of what was planted two generations ago
when your grandpatents arrived from the Philippines, seeds in tow
soil for the taking
You can’t confiscate what they claimed
when they planted their flags
into the moon-white sand of a beach in Florida
on a far side of the planet
their forefarthers have never seen

You can’t say those flags weren’t there
when wind came
You can't ***** out that pride
of country,
cut off its native tongue and its acquired taste, or pass up the plate of fried lumpia and rice passed down from the kitchen of your Daddylol
feeding seven kids day in and out with tomatoes he planted,
chickens he raised, Malonggay leaves he grew
with thumbs so green they wrote in the papers about it
He was a farmer
Your grandmother, a nurse
And i was writer
And this is our story

You can’t erase the letters of your name,
your lineage written all over it
like a map
of everywhere we been
You can’t take back the words in Tagalog and Chavacano
your Lola Shirley must have sang your mother to sleep with
You can’t take their dreams

You can't just wake up one day and undo
the ripple effects their moves
created across waters 10,000 miles east of here,
the rolling waves they curled into
or the faraway shores they washed up upon
Bottled messages in hand
Our legends held within
You can’t say centuries from now that they won’t feel it
when their feet hit the sand of their own frontier
beside the waves we stayed making
a history written in deep water
for those who come after you
to sail above and beyond.
For Nali
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
I'm in the sun by crashing waves
But no one waves to me
I hear them speak most every day
They don't speak to me

I'm lost in a foreign land
Wishing I could be back home
Where even when I'm by myself
I don't feel so alone
I'm going home

I see eyes on their solemn face
But I don't see life
What is this terrifying place?
It's not what I thought it'd be like

I miss my streets filled with snow
I miss the gray skies above
I miss my hands feeling numb with cold
I miss the warmth of love

I'm lost in a foreign land
Wishing I could be back home
Where even when I'm by myself
I don't feel so alone
I'm going home
Jack Jenkins May 2017
You clipped her wings so she would fall,
but she learned to fly without your voice
to soar into the atmosphere.

You were her morning and evening star,
the guiding lighthouse on the shore;
you were her adoration.

You didn't understand that she truly loved you,
how much of her heart she gave to you that you
trampled on and discarded for your own pleasure.

Now she's going to fly
grow
love
be free
while you're still in your chains
of heart games and misleading.

In short, she's always going to
**be better
than you...
//On friends//
Wrote this for a friend I love very much, who got cheated on. If the ex ever reads this, *******. :D
Jordan Rowan Apr 2016
I took apart the clock and set it on the floor
Where I'll be going I won't need it anymore
I'm going out
I'm going down
You'll find me in the sun with no one else around

I sang a little tune and tried to write it down
Doesn't matter if it slips it'll find its way around
I'm going out
I'm going down
You'll find me where only nature makes a sound

I've got a ringing telephone in the palm of my hand
I threw it in the water so I could truly breathe again
I'm going out
I'm going down
You'll find me with a smile somewhere out of town
Joy Nov 2018
Spiraling
                down
                          a pit
                                  of anxiety.

                     When suddenly


                          A

                          f

    ­                      r

                          e

           ­               e

                          f

                  ­        a

                          l

                         ­ l

                    headfirst
                    short
                    sharp
            ­        burst.

                          And then

P     r     o     c     r   a    s    tination
spilled         un   e   ve       nly

           on a tiled bathroom floor.
Cné Mar 2017
Normally I don't celebrate a one day holiday
But it's a drinking holiday, so celebrate away
Drinking green beer
Spreading good cheer
To the Irish and non, Happy St. Patrick's Day!
I don't really drink beer. I usually just stick to the hard stuff.

But waiting to get off work, going bonkers and berserk.
Hehehe
veritas Jul 2018
girls and boys and girls! its
a sultry summer, swinging, sighing, swishing hips by mine
slipping elusive behind stone arches, cursing on my lips, **** (whispered, softly)
glazed cherries in a glass bowl they drip and melt, and oh hell
my fingers are red and sticky and sweet but i love it i love it and
she's smiling like a dream
she's saying goodbye until next summer
until another year, another dream will find her way to me.
summer vibes
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2018
the earth is curved - sure y’all knew that.  
but to get to the Northwest,
Interstate 84
ain’t le route plus directe

nope curve north to Ontario,
wave to Bex as I cross over
London and Toronto, also can’t recall
which poet from Rochester hails,
or did they shuffle off to Buffalo?

Crossing Erie, Huron, and Michigan Great Lakes all,
brings to mind
my mother’s birthplace,
Last of the Mohicans,
and the three years I did in the Cleveland Penitentiary,
where sun was illegal and baseball was a pretend play
of cowboys and Indians
but by god, it made me
the penitent fella I am today

Look skyward to Montreal,
yes, there he is, the Leo Priest,
the baffled king,
blessing this poetic meet ‘n greet trip
with a smiling unsurprising
hallelujah

Apparently some US citizens still can traverse O Canada,
even if one forgot their passports,
and are not PNG’s (Persons Not so GREAT)

over Minneapolis shed a tear for Diane,
a poet- gone-missing, and wonder if you reader come from
St. Cloud, Fargo or Duluth, Bismarck or Aberdeen,
surely they still speak poetic English there
in a twangy metering methodology  - well, message me asap

wow there really is a Saskatoon!

the pilot asks us to lean left in our seats
to help turn the plane
so we go to Portland and not to Vancouver...
me thinks he might be a touch Rockie Mountain High,
considering we are at 30 thousand something Imperial,
as he walks the main cabin with an oxygen mask and a
huuuuuge grin

see the distant Cascades
through a crack in the shuttered windows,
must be close to “the coast”
(as if, harrumph, there were but one)

ah, words in the clouds, ripe for the plucking
must be getting close to Oregon,
where poets grow on trees, woody words like ****,
and log-float poems down the Columbia to the sea

gonna drink me some poets
under the table cause this
trip I ain’t no driving and I am already
“flying” ‘n scribing and arriving
on a high tide and a good wind
Dan Gray May 2013
So lay back, get ready
Soon close your eyes.
Here comes a poem,
But, that’s no surprise.
Plump up your pillow
For your head soon to rest.
Wiggle your body
Till it seems at its best.
No pressures to feel,
A time to relax.
Any problems today,
Just give them the axe.
Think of those things
That bring you some joy.
Comfortable ones
Maybe of me,
With who you do toy.
Continue to feel
That on coming sleep.
Feeling so good
From your head to your feet.
I’ll leave you to dream.
Of things that you love.
Those that are close
With dreams from above.

Dan Gray
A bit kitchy, but written for a friend that had trouble sleeping.
david mungoshi Mar 2016
your coming in with the rising sun
in soft morning light and glistening dew
made me think life could be  a huge smile
and that nothing about you could be a trifle

conversation with you was like lyrical poetry
full of measured tones and profound emotion
words are wholesome food when one is enamoured
you sip their oozing nectar at every sugary pause

your voice was like a heavenly harp magically played
by expert fingers dancing to an inspired melody
that only i and they could hear, and cherish like a dream
thus see me now with my face still ravaged by possibilities

but alas, you decided to take your leave with the dying day
and i knew my bewilderment would last the stretch of eternity
you walked away into the twilight and never once looked back
those who go away with the setting sun do not always rise with it
Francie Lynch Jan 18
Earth:   Three trillion trees.
Moon:   No cotton seeds.
Mars:    No face to feed.
Yet billions here seek shade.
There are more trees on earth than the combined number of stars in several galaxies.

Inside
       of  
           my    
               head
            
                        Entombed  
                                 is  
                                      a   
                              
                         B   R   A   I   N

                                      Can’t
             ­                                shake
                                                      this    ­        
                                                        ­   feeling
                                                       ­    That  
                                                             ­it’s
                                                             ­not    
                                                      ­       the      
                                                            s­ame
                                                     Infected sickness
                                                Covered with dull pain
                                         A rabid                          werewolf
                         ­             I’m trying                             to tame
                                     Almost off                              the leash
                                    I tug at                                    the reigns
                                    Hold              on  ­       with       sheer will
                                    Have          nothing   ­    to                 gain
                                
                           ­        My                       efforts;                  A joke
                                   Fighting               a freight                   train
                                    Through              gr­it teeth             I smile
                                      Demeanor             ­                       I feign
                                          Failure          ­    coming            soon
                                      ­       My life,         one more        stain


                                             ­                    Lost
                                                          ­         sight
                                                                ­      of
                                                                ­      it
                                                                ­        all
                                                   ­               To
                                                              w­hat
                                                            ­ it
                                                 pertains
                                                      ­I
                                                    am
                                              sinking
                                                down
       ­                                            Spinning in
                                       the drain
                                                    An
                                               endless
                                              battle
           ­                             Forever
                                     the
                                bane
                           ­  Of
                      my
           existence

            No                   longer                    I’m                   sane………


Written: May 1, 2018 (finished June 27, 2018)

All rights reserved.
[Anapestic Pentameter format]
Matt Shade Jan 2015
Here’s something to melt the snows
so you may bloom your compass rose-
Go far away without delay,
how dare you ever think to stay!
Just let me take some Kate to keep
in Michigan and weep
with joy as you grow
West without a doubt-
though I keep here, I'll figure out
just where to go-
maybe somewhere that doesn't snow!
If you can do it so can I,
So go! And I might also try!
Alan S Bailey Aug 2015
I'm going ***, nearly all the way, just let me stay the opposite
Way for a little longer-I'm not stronger than the me that
I somehow always had a choice not to be.

...!?!
Nick Burns Aug 2018
My alarm clock screams.
Been awake for three hours;
so ahead of the game,
unaware of my powerless range.

I’ve been tossing, turning, creaking,
coming up with new names;
another attempt to link together
all of my fireless plains.

Hey, I’m running on fumes.
Hey, I’m Eugene Tooms;
stretching, twisting, warping,
got you reaching for clues.

It’ll all come together,
posted up in a small room;
just typing up a dichotomy
of life as a lifeless plume.
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