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CAM Oct 2017
Some days you feel like you need to write something.
I know I'm not relatable, don't be too worried.
But today is one of those days where writing nothing,
Feels like betrayal hurried.

Some days you wish you could disappear.
I can't decide whether today is one of those days or not.
My crush disappears at 1:55 I fear,
But it's not like I ever enter his thoughts.

But some days aren't like that.
Some days you think there's nothing at all.
When in reality your mind is filled with chitchat.
You feel ready to fall
Right out of your seat
But that's alright.

Lunch sounds kind of boring,
But I suppose it's the people there who count.
My friends are always kind of alluring
They're some of the best people I've found.

You think someday someone will sit next to you
And you'll know it's them,
But you realize few
People find it's them.

I'm one of those people who finds the empty parts of the hallway to walk in.
Luckily, my friends are too, so I'll see them there, in the empty parts of the hallway.
Sorry I just kind of wrote on the page today so it's there and unorganized and beautiful in its own way.
SelinaSharday Feb 11
Ur in the hallway..at this point in our day.  
You were just in my doorway just late da other day.
Smiles tempted to fade away.
My words are failing to say..
What they should on today.
I'd like my faith to erase away any doubts pushing in my doorway. (You) what should you do..I want your desire.
I even want your pull away. I want you to walk away..
I even want ya to stay.
I want us continuing on this Sunday..
Invite you into my living room..
Is it too soon?
I feel I've known ya such a long time..
Turn around and convince myself it hasn't been enough time.
To act as if your a life long love of mine...
Oh twisted space in myself I find..
Still here chilling hanging with time..
By sharday!
Opened the front door stood in my front hallway.. had some hearty long conversation. each time you stand in the hallway. you peek into my doorway. Let me invite you into the living room
Nat Lipstadt May 2013
Three Minute Warning

A messenger delivers
A three minute warning
As I lay in bed at 10:30 am
(Resting in preparation for,
not from, our oops, early morning hike).

Breakfast will be ready in 3,
Get your **** in gear or else
It will be cold, I'll be mad,
And you will answer to a
Higher Authority.

No problem cause I already know
All I need is two.

Splash water on my face
Now I'm presentable
enough to the human race,
current company probably won't be happy,
But I ain't telling her, are you?

Shave! You crazed?
It is a three day weekend,
Every day a July Fourth,
Celebrating freedom from the European tyranny,
Of shaving smooth  every day!

Splash water on my head, count with me,
Five brush strokes as you can plainly see
Is a classic case of overcompensating
In my geling n' hair stylin'

Brush my teeth, well,
I hope 2 full minutes of rinsing with  CVS
Green stuff, mouthwash, will have to suffice.

Blast my deodorant both sides,
Long and strong, wearin' now
My bold blue *** husk of musk,
Cause I am a very considerate fellow
Who happens to really have stunk.

Clean T- shirt and shorts,
Yes, clean underwear too,
Leaves me a whole minute to write this scribble.

My flip flop noises coming down the hallway,
Are the butler announcing our joint arrival,
Me and my poem.

Lest you think this is paean to men
Another grand male boast,
Be advised this ditty be writty
By a man who, while no longer gritty,
Just put jelly on his scrambled eggs
And ketchup on his toast!

Mmmmmmm there might be a poem
Lurking in that too...
Sigh, a true story.
slay Aug 2018
Braids in her hair with the beads
So I can always hear her walk away from me
Shorty is a dog like me
No telling when I’ll ever sweep her off her feet

She said, “say less” I was silent
I Guess I had to be reminded
She fell off when my doubts hit
Cause I ain’t never really loved a woman
Until I met you
If I have to confess to you
You’re the only one who got me feelings the feels
Ain’t no other woman
No man I’ve been with
Now I’m asking you to patiently

Hear me cry
Girl, it’s almost over gotta get this out of my system
Say goodnight, girl not so long till youre by my side girl , oh girl

I got this feeling for you
You so unique and you cool
My baby Neek, I’m her fool
She so dramatic, I’m coolin on the way
To her crib, two more lights and bang a left
Like I be banging on the door
Like I be banging on that ***
You so **** precious when you smile
And your nose ring catch the light
From the hallway got the door cracked
You the light of my **** life

Girl, cryyyy
it’s almost over gotta get this out of my system
Say goodnight, girl not so long till youre by my side girl , oh girl

I hit the blunt not to think about you
I wasn’t playing when I said he changed you
***** drop to my knees barstool
And back that *** up let you see it full moon

Gimme some ******* warnin’
You gon’ have me jump out of my skin
Fingers up and down my spine when
You unlatching the clasp of my necklace

Girl, cryyyy
Cause it’s been so long since you were by my side say good niiggghhtttt but truth be told it’s a lie

I’m lying naked in this bed
Thinking of how you look undressed like when them lashes off no ******* on
I taste your name in every breath
laura Jul 2018
you did, all across the hallway
on the bathroom floor
and on the glass shower door
eye shadows flooded like the money
in your bank account baby

fake love hip swing under palm trees
land of milk and honeys
you did, yeah, that's how american women do it
it's what makes you human
it's what makes you beautiful

vulnerable, lost, all over the internet
and you did it for a BSN
all the while they tell you you're beautiful
Caela Bayfield Sep 2017
I ran into a ghost today
And by ghost, I mean a person from my past
And by person from my past, I mean an old friend, who I really used to care about.
And by ran into I mean we passed each other in the hallway,
we looked up then looked away then looked back one more time, realizing at this point we couldn’t pretend we didn’t see each other.

He was so kind and he was so gentle
and I was so scared, I tried to run away
yet at the same time all I wanted in that moment was to stay and talk to him.  
We hardly said five words,
then he pretended to be meeting a friend
and I pretended I was late for class,
though in actuality my class didn’t start for forty-five more minutes.
I ran down the hall and sat in the corner alone, hating myself for not being able to ask one simple question.
“how are you?”
“how’s your family?”
“Are you happy?”
Cause all I ever wanted was for you to be happy.
I know it didn’t seem that way
But I was selfish, and you were young and I was young.
And then the anxiety came on and my chest started to hurt and the feeling reminded me of why I don’t make friends anymore.

Then the teacher showed up and asked me if I was okay.
And the pounding turned to aching,
that simmered into a dull pain.
I smiled and said yes.
He said that I wore my emotions on my face.
And I laughed and said thank you.

Then I went on with my day.
But the aching Is still there,
It will probably never leave.
ethan gaskill Jul 2018
to the girl
still picking up
pieces of her heart
like books dropped
in a hallway

"hi, my name is ethan
i'd like to love you
if that's okay with you"

your heart can be kintsukuroi
we'll fill in the fractures
left by some past fool
with gold

because what better material
to rebuild a broken heart?
than the material from which
knock on wood
our rings will be made?
I'm at the end of the hallway,
Under the last tree on the right.
The only thing that makes sense,
Is darkness in light.

I have a mother who hates,
How much she loves me.
A father who works,
To make life easy.

The hot apple pie is fresh as can be.
Just grab it from the fridge with a note.
Telling you to find the fine, cold milk.
Inside the udder of baphomet's goat.

You might hate the lack of rhythm,
In this wild house of mine.
But I can promise you that we never,
Ever loathe a good rhyme.
Camilla Green Nov 2018
"Hello, hallway, linoleum tile,
I can't really see you but
I hope you're there."

Green spiders crawl through my smoked-up veins,
their spindles weave their webs of red
under eyelids gravitating towards sleep.

Retinal film flashes; each blink is an
unprocessed, scared, broken reel.

"Put your hands," he says, "on mine.
Breathe, look into my eyes."

Shaking fingertips touch his; snowflakes
gently collide with sunny ground.

They were afraid to melt,
even though they might want to.
I wish it had been 33°.
zoie marie lynn May 2018
i’m made of sidewalk cracks and moments i should’ve taken
i’m made of broken rings and the wrong girls i put my trust in.
because i didn’t know what love was until i kissed a girl made of thorns
and i didn’t know what happiness was until fear started sleeping without locking the door.
i’m no where near what the world makes me out to be
what it expects from me
and maybe that’s okay.
i’m made of ****** coffee and the constant pressure of being something else
i'm made of holes in the foundation and girls that kiss me just to watch me melt.
because i didn't know what lust was until i touched skin made of broken glass
and i didn't know what hope was until i fell a little too fast.
my story ends before it even starts
because forever is only real if you look like art
but i look like broken promises in an empty hallway
and maybe that's okay.
and strange what desire will make foolish people do
L B Nov 2016
Susan
with her china-white skin
relaxed
down to lace bra and *******—

“Have you ever heard this?” she asks

… sets the album, drops the needle
in the groove
We wait till bass fills in the room
sending time and silence empty-handed
down a hallway

Susan lights a joint
settles on the bed
ample legs begging apart
She ***** in deeply
impounding clouds  
Head thrown back
Thick glossy hair—
loses gravity
Eyes half-closed, shadow-heavy
clear and blue like piano
The walls are muted trumpet
stutter-hush of cymbal and the snare
Crackling over scratches

We are barely there

Susan exhales
a swirl of fog to a frail moon
Only her sultry voice still holds me tethered

“Have you ever heard anything— like this?”

Miles flows 
around me
Smoking
On the floor of Susan’s room
lying clothed and drunk
Soaked
with chords and wonder

I never hear him coming

Miles takes his time
Clearly, Susan was not the ****** here.  The year was 1969; Lowell State College dormitory in Massachusetts.  I was 19, a music major and on my way to becoming "radical revolutionary" and a poet. The album, I think, was Kinda Blue with Miles Davis and John Coltrane et al

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqNTltOGh5c
Carter aunders Oct 2018
i compliment the girls in the hallway
some wave
and some smile
and some don´t even say thanks
it doesn´t matter to me
because i know the words that i say
will stay inside the brains
of the girls who need to know
that they will be ok
just a few kind words might make someones day.
i take it to myself to compliment at least 3 people a day
thank you for reading this, i hope you can take it into your life to say just a few nice things to anyone, even if you don´t know them it might turn around their day
but don´t let the people who just turn away ruin your day. compliment yourself just as often. you are beautiful, you are brave, make everyday hold just a little more positivity
gracie Jan 22
i.
the tall, brown-eyed
scholar with tousled hair and 
endless supply of sarcastic comments; 
stolen sweaters and car rides and
cartoons. sipping hot cocoa
out of Star Wars mugs, study dates, 
playing hide and seek 
in Walmart, hugs that 
almost 
made me feel whole

first heartbreak
******* in his passenger seat because 
he "needed it”;
a lonely winter learning 
he did not love me and 
a season spent intertwined 
with a boy who could not 
fill the void in my chest.

ii.
golden hair, ocean eyes,
sunkissed skin and downtown flea markets.
threading my fingers between his
sharing our poems over skype
and 
iced coffee and patched denim and 
fresh yellow flowers stashed in my locker.
hugging in the hallway,
silly love notes and soft smiles and 
laughing so hard my ribs hurt.
a sensation of warmth that could rival 
pure sunshine

unopened texts
a subtle disconnection
i held his heart in my palm and
let it slip
harsh
unimportant
i still carry the guilt in my fingertips

iii.
overalls. shoulder-length hair, i 
fell in love with the way he said my name
strange, unrecognizable on his lips, ringing
each syllable like a pink-petal
prayer.
a thrift store parking lot, draped 
across his lap, one hand in my hair, 
the other around my heart;
stolen kisses at stoplights. shivering and 
holding each other so closely
i thought 
we might never unravel

disintegrating. distance withering away 
my heartstrings; familiar pain and
longing to be held
bitter tears and night air
stroking my hair
in place of the way
his hands made me
Ache.
an old poem. the loneliness comes and goes;
poem format inspired by haley
Tom Spencer May 21
a door closes
and I hear him

shuffling down the hallway
his wife of sixty-six years

my mother
asleep, almost invisible

beneath the blankets
as fragile as a baby bird

he stops to wind
the grandfather clock

smiles and nods
“I smell that coffee”

ninety years-old
and still "up-and-at-em”

pills to ration
a newspaper to fetch

dishes to put away
meanwhile

back in their room
dreaming

she remembers
everything

standing by his side
she turns to meet his eyes

Tom Spencer © 2019
Jay Nov 2018
suddenly i know
where you are on thursdays at 8 pm
the number of pillows in your bed
and what you and your grandma talks about

you only ever saw
the drawn out clothes in my wardrobe
and my hallway plant

all i craved
i got
momentarily

and then
you left

back on the sofa
count the patterns on my wall

no, i know
it was what it was
nothing more
nothing less
i guess

but i rather not have this new knowledge
in the back of my chest
it interrupts my important plans
staring at the wall
SteamPhunk Feb 2018
Wednesday, 14th of February 2018, 7.00pm,
" breaking news, a mass-shooting happened today in Florida, American authorities are calling this the worst school shooting in U.S.A's history "
6 minutes and 20 seconds,
That's all it took,
17 confirmed dead,
15 injured,
Countless more lives ruined,
All in under 10 minutes,
No parent should ever have to hug their child,
So tight,
Just because it might be the last time they'll ever say goodbye,
No kid should ever have to be afraid of their school hallway,
Or be afraid of who's standing in the classroom doorway,
No kid should ever wonder if this day will be their last,
And no parent should ever have to bury their kid,
Six feet out of their reach,
So this is for Scott,
And for Alyssa,
For Martin,
And for Nicholas,
Not forgetting Aaron,
This goes to Chris,
And Luke,
For Cara,
And for Gina,
Joaquin and Alaina,
Meadow, Helena, and Alex,
Carmen and Peter,
You are all in our hearts,
Let's face it,
The Floridian community of Douglas,
Will never go back to " normal "
So, Washington? Trump?
Riddle us this?
When is this going to be added to your list of " proud American traditions "?
There are too many heavy hearts,
Too many dark days,
Too much chaos and confusion,
For this to be swept under the carpet again,
Just like the last time,
We weren't even a quarter of the way into 2018,
Yet there had already been over 30 mass-shootings since the beginning of January,
So here's to the people who aren't accepting the truth,
Who are too " confused " to realize what's going on,
For the people who haven't woken up to the fact,
That there were unidentified bodies,
Sitting cold in that school for over 24-hours,
And do not tell me I am too young to know what I'm talking to you about,
I stand alongside Emma Gonzalez and the hundreds of young people across the globe,
This isn't just for our lives,
This is for everyone's lives,
Since when did " don't shoot children " become such a controversial statement?
Since when did school safety become a debatable, two-sided matter?
So I will join my fellow marchers,
And yell loudly and unapologetically,
Until they hear our voices,
In the words of Emma Gonzalez,
Adults like it when we have strong test scores,
But not when we have strong opinions,
We are Marching For Our Lives,
And this is our legacy.
#enoughisenough #thisendsnow #Iwillmarch #marchforourlives
lesson #1: in the beginning, all poems on Earth were formless

on blended knee, the approaching, humility, raging, barely  
tempered by a gale force need, the forthcoming yoga pose of compose

you have urgings, mostly in a blink of an eye,
then going, gone notions, the writing is so a losing effort,
you turn the paper’s aperture sideways hoping to get an
inside straight insight,
but the poem refuses to come, the creation ******
delayed is torturous and the poem birthing, even worse

so you revert to basics to give the formless a shape,
recalling  a child’s learning that in the beginning:

“the earth was formless and void,
darkness was over the surface of the deep,
and the Spirit of God was hovering
over the surface of the waters.…”

so you insert a single sheet of 20Lb bond paper,
sliding the typewriters carriage smooth swift  
over to the starting gate hell’s bell, typewriter machine smell erotically exciting creative fluids boiling,
typing, laughing out loud, forming entree to the hinted hallway
of a womb opening to a crafting with three words:

                               in the beginning
Jeremy Rascon Aug 2016
The endless sorrows,
They sought
and
Found me here,
At what I call home .
When I cannot sleep,
When I cannot dream,
Everything seems wrong.
I glance around and view its truth
I don't belong here I whisper
Take me away I call out
Into the darkness
The windows are tinted from eons of collected dust and dirt,
The low brown light that seeps through sets the tone,
My vision is almost gone,
I wipe and wipe
But the glass is stained.
The entire house is in a similar state.
Echoes speak to me in the hallway
It's not the house that's alive
It's been dead for years
I am trapped in it's carcass
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