"hilary" poems
Gender is just an invention by society
I'm a strong independent black woman and I don't need no man
Oprah
Michelle Obama
Yoga Pants
Hilary Clinton
Breast Milk
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC
an aging APE developed arthritis in his ankles
several BATS tasted the nectar from the plum trees
Jessica's CAT played with the ball of wool
DINGOS were seen skulking around the camp site
there are two types of ELEPHANTS the Asian and African
FERRETS are sent down rabbit warrens to flush them out
Helen saw a GIRAFFE at the wildlife reserve
I wrote a poem titled Hilary The HIPPOPOTAMUS
Who has a pet IGUANA?
Some people say my uncle is a *******
KANGAROOS have muscular tails
Obama rhymes with LLAMA
in parts of Canada MOOSE roam on the loose
a NEWT likes being in a warm environment
some OCTOPI have black dye
baby PANDAS are cute and cuddly
in Australia we have a native bush QUAIL
RACCOONS live in rocky dens
a TAPIR has a very long nose
UAKARI monkeys hang out in the Amazon jungle
if you're looking for a VOLE you'll find him in a hole
WOMBATS move in a very slow manner
an XERUS is a mighty big species of squirrel
the Nepalese have domesticated YAKS
Doctor Dolittle has spoken to a ZEBRA
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 10:54 PM UTC
Elizabeth and God exist in a sunflower grave. Her mother and father slit her stomach open and watched the contents pour out like
spaghetti confetti.
Tommy, Elizabeth's boyfriend, rode his ocean blue Huffy, until the tread on his tires grew bald and until the grips were blanketed by dead skin. Looking for her, panoramic views of the horizon leapt beside him. Silhouettes of his legs, churned and kissed the orange and caramel dusk. With every tear in his hamstrings and calves, the **** in his sky grew and swallowed the memory of Elizabeth Mendenhall, Honor Student.
Margot, Elizabeth's twelve year-old sister, was an idealistic soul. Taking a Sharpie, she wrote on her sister's wall, "Liz, there is no death greater than the loss of self, and no life greater than one where we continuously search for what self is." Margot struggled with concentrating and frying eggs - but focused on the sunflower garden, dangerously and perfectly.
Hilary and Brendan were thirty-five and thirty-six years-old. They stabbed their daughter thirty-seven times. They don't know why they did it, they just couldn't think of a reason not to do it.
She begged for her life. The yellow petals of the sunflowers caught blood-drops and, after enough struggle, floated down to kiss and lay on Elizabeth's slow-twitch body. Hilary looked at Brendan and said, "What does this mean?" Brendan shrugged and said, "This is new to me."
The garden was an oven, and digging her grave was like pulling back on a cheap, plastic latch. Elizabeth had pale, pre-cooked pie crust skin. The slits in her stomach looked like peeks into a cherry stuffed filling. Crinkled lips looked indented by a stainless steel fork, back and forth, side to side. And the soil rained upon her like the reversal of hot vapor, returning home.
Elizabeth and the Sunflower Garden.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 5:37 AM UTC
Memory is a beautiful thing.
Those warm summer mornings sitting on the front porch.
Jumping on Colton's trampoline in a frilled baby pink tu-tu.
Little white bows in my golden curls as I bounce,
grinning so wide,
in the rays of the Texas sun.
Trips to the lake in our old boat.
The water warm and glittering, calling me for a swim.
Tubing behind the Seaswirl with my baby brother,
giggling like little kids do.
My old cowgirl costume for Halloween.
Running from door to door with an old ragged filled pillowcase in hand.
Singing Hilary Duff in my 5th grade talent show.
Nervously shaking as I watch the smiling crowd in front of me.
My first crush sitting next to me in math class,
Mrs. Woo telling me to stop daydreaming.
Green eyes that stare back into mine, laughing, moving in front of me.
Adventures in Burbank with Megan.
Laughing so hard we fall to the sidewalk in front of a full Mexican restaurant.
My first boyfriend kissing me under an oak tree,
in McCambridge Park at sunset.
Here I sit now.
At my washed out desk in a new dorm,
in college.
My life will keep moving on,
and I have all these beautiful memories to fill it with.
My own personal home videos to dance through my head,
as I think,
as I dream,
as I film more to think back on in ten years.
Life is too beautiful to waste.
I thank God that I have been so blessed to be living.
Loving, laughing, singing, dancing, smiling
and holding on to this free spirit that possesses me and moves me.
Someday life will be but a wonderful memory.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 4:03 PM UTC
I’d thrown back my head and let out
that cackle
But I didn’t realize that that candelabra
The lit one
was so close
And my head went
Bosh!
Sponto jumped up
Arms raised and ready
Ready to clobber me
And Hilary
To my left looked at me and screamed
Immobile except for her face stretched by
distress and fear
I’d watched that horrendous
De Niro version of Frankenstein that afternoon
And everyone was screaming at the monster
I remembered those scenes now
And I understood
I stamped out my burning head quickly
Before I got hit
I learned a lesson that day.
The spot of hair, you know
Never did grow back right.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 5:48 PM UTC
Hilary the Hippopotamus
had a long held dream
to dance with Nureyev
in the port town of Charlene
her dream became
a reality
when Nureyev was touring
her particular locality
his regular dance partner
came down with the flu
and he was at a loss
as to what to do
he called the tour organizers
to ask their advice
they said he should
contact Hilary and not think twice
a lovely version of Swan Lake
they performed in the port town of Charlene
dancing with Nureyev
was Hilary's dream
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 7:32 AM UTC
1. Quit smokin' while you can.
My wife and I been rollin' our own lately
Those things got wax rings in 'em
You're smokin' wax that'll give you cancer
See these 17 year old kids with that mornin' hack
You know it's not from doin' it for years.
2. Be aware of your surroundings.
Some of these kids get so lost in their phones they don't realize they're a target.
Isis could drop right in and pop 'em right there
It's sad.
I got this flip phone.
I can check the time, check the weather
that's all I need.
One person has my number
that's my wife
She's all I need.
3. There's gonna be a revolution.
Last time aristocrats were in power takin' money from the bottom you know what happened?
The French Revolution
It's gonna happen again I can feel it
Republicans think Trump is gonna lead 'em there but he stepped over dead bodies to get where he is
He's not who I'd pick, honestly.
Hilary isn't my first choice either if I could of had my way I'd pick Bernie.
They say oh he's a Socialist like he's some ****
They don't understand the difference.
4. Mary has been working in there 20 years.
Makin' 10 dollars an hour.
That's sad.
I got up to 14 dollars and that's after a two dollar cut in pay
Most those kids won't ever see 15 dollars an hour
I tell 'em get out while you can.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
She was diagnosed with amnesia
For which there was no panacea
He sought all possible solutions
And tried all kinds of potions
He was filled with great worry
Didn’t know the amnesia was temporary
With the return of her memory
She ran away with Hilary
A man’s love thus became a tragedy
For which laughter was the only remedy
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
It starts with a sensation of feeling it can't be real
This pain, this reality it all seems so fake
Living in turmoil yet being awake
We've created a fictional story for what we see
Lies have become "real" the virtual stains reality
Yet we are living in the creative dump
Hilary Clinton and Donald trump
Opportunists in this world of lies
The poet cries
But truth is hated more than the lies we perceive
and believe cause their sugar makes the medicine go down
No need to frown, because life is just for individuals like you
We all different but not one of us has a clue
Of what's going on
Corporations rule the media so what's wrong?
Censorship breaks even the strongest of minds
Leaves us cold but does anyone mind?
They feed us primal fears
While we our fed TV box sets of lives we want to lead
While soldiers bleed in wars we keep fighting
Just because of oil sightings
It's all bit pointless as the golden age of austerity kicks in
And the rich become fat eating the poor
and misery is a acquaintance who is in your house though you didn't answer the door
It's all normal check your email and censor your political correctness
It's all bull **** tell yourself it won't mean a thing
Your King or queen of nothing
and there is no God heaven was a bluff
It's not real it's tough
Because we could have made it heaven on earth
But fantasy was more beguiling
As we watch game of thrones we are smiling.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
They all stood around her, bowed quietly, watching and reflecting and remembering how this day was anticipated. Each engrossed in his/her memory of her and how they saw her eventual end.
Tom thought, ‘Perhaps if I had talked to her more often, this would not have happened’.
Hilary thought, ‘I should have prayed harder, maybe if I was better, then God would have heard my prayer’.
Annie thought, ‘I told her a million times, don’t do that, it will **** you. I guess it finally did’.
Ralph thought, ‘Why didn’t she just call me like she always did?’
Sam thought, ‘Wow, she finally did it, just like she always said she would!’
Andrew thought, rather methodically, of the steps that she would have taken to reach the final destination.
Gene knew exactly how she did it! Hell, if she revealed further, some would say, she even instigated the whole thing.
Pam was undoubtedly gloating, ‘Now she could have it all – the man, the cash, the jewellery ...’
*No one knew though that she was watching all of them from just above, hovered in a corner. She was surprised that she could hear them think even though it was in whispers. She was sad, and happy and in fact after a while she smiled, ‘on to plan B now!’ She was looking forward to all the frightful nightmares she could give each one of them. Heaven can wait or possibly hell but if it’s going to be eternity, she has certainly got a lot time in her hands.
Just then, she felt a vacuum **** her in and she jolted back into her body. She could see them, in fact, her eyes were open but she couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t even blink!!*
The Doctor arrives and lets the family and friends know, “I’m sorry, she’s comatose and right now I am unable to tell you much, we have to keep her here to run further tests! It would be best if just one or two of you stay with her.”
They look at each other and without saying much leave the room one by one.
She’s watching and actually screaming and shouting but no one reacts; to them she’s motionless. She curses and finally stops and just stares at the ceiling.
That was five years ago; she’s in a beautiful room now but she’s still just staring at the ceiling...
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 11:26 AM UTC
It is usually best to avoid
crushing hopelessness, to swerve
and defer disaster, but even so
the world is well and truly ****** up.
Seek solutions to this conundrum.
Try to avoid curiosity, a pernicious
strain of insanity that conjures up
irrational fears of orangutangs
with meat cleavers, lethally ascetic
Tibetan monks, bathroom carpets
of abandoned razors or Big Macs
rife with E. Coli.
Avoid metaphysical musings that lead
to questions of coleslaw, vegan
water parks, the Team Quadraplegic
Gymnastics squad and the horrors
of the Hilary Clinton Naked Network.
Seek refuge in the present tense to
escape the interrogation of mirrors,
the crafted answer, dacryphilia,
remedial rage, landslides of therapy
and memorizing each month's horoscope.
Consider that mercy is on back order from God.
Remember the best lines of an unread book.
Nap on a battlefield; haggle over imaginary debts.
Set fire to the umbrellas of passing strangers.
Stop to watch the loudness and burn the recovered dead.
Call up new magic for a dying world.
Find beauty in the irradiated glow of burning cities.
Try not to bounce existential checks or notice
the crumbling of distant walls, ruined outhouses,
and the immense bleakness of forever and ever.
Take up training small rodents and lighting holy fires.
Ignore the broken stars, long dead and beyond grief.
Discover the pleasure in erasure, enjoy the biology
of strangeness. Walk many miles without a map
beneath innumerable ladders carefully detouring
around immense flocks of rabid cassowaries.
Throttle the recalcitrant blue sky's silent throat.
Listen to the melody of car wrecks and smashed guitars.
Abandon assumed corpses to dreams of endless cold.
Appreciate futures you cannot believe in but never visit them.
Learn to diagram sentences in Esperanto then speak with toads.
Ignore the slot machine odds against your deepest desires.
Hide beneath the ravenous trees from time's famished maw.
Seek sanctuary in toothy optimism and complete amnesia.
Follow these impossible instructions to the letter
and you will become non-valent, invisible, immune
and no longer notice the world is ****** up
beyond redemption. Go on, give it a try.
~mce
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
Beware! Trump or Hilary are going to win,
Scary! Should middle America hit the gin?
What does this imply for planet Earth?
Any different politicians for dessert?
Scary! Trump or Hilary are going to win!
Now, where did we hide all our gin?
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 6:12 AM UTC
There were many who believed in ideals,
Fretting about in their heels,
With bollards and plackards,
They marched and nattered,
All hell they would repeal.
ISIS let rip in the east,
Fear more important than peace,
Assad called the Russians
We heard the percussion,
Aleppo mourned daily deceased.
The climate was caught unawares,
When it realised nobody cares,
The smog came in strong,
Al Gore wasn't wrong,
When people flirt with despair.
Brexit was no laughing matter,
The public blind to what they were after,
Trigger at the ready,
It isn't looking steady,
For a kingdom with too many actors.
Trump, we thought at first glance,
Didn't have much of a chance,
But Hilary's scandal,
Left the US at a stand still,
Now the world's in Russia's trance.
Farewell to the icons we'll pine,
Our culture was built on their spine,
Prince, Bowie and George,
With legends we forged
The moments that will surpass time.
Ireland became a haven for a few
Pity there wasn't a queue,
With a fight for corporate heads
Banks left dry and bled,
Tech an oligopoly? Who knew.
Aleppo left drenched with no fate,
The little reaction to late,
UN cries unheard,
Media reports blurred.
It's hard to keep up at this rate.
Silicon Valley is offering free food,
to workers becoming robots or goods,
12 hour days,
extraordinary pay,
But with no creativity they're *******
Sporting greats made their way to the stage,
this year's Olympics causing outrage,
medals were plenty,
seats were empty,
And controversy graced every front page.
Here we go blindfolded into 2017
Only the wealthy living the dream,
while most young folk,
believe politics a joke,
Tell me, is it time for a new regime?
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 3:39 PM UTC
Kanye West made me think polos were cool. I thought playing rap music while wearing polos would make me into a rapper. And then I turned into a tennis player. Tennis got me out of the hood. Let it be known. I could have went to court, and instead I chose the Tennis Court.
Tennis is fun. Before it was ratchet. Now it is tennis racket. Rapping was fun. Bernie Sanders liked rap. He liked Killer Mike, and he was a phenomenal rapper. Hilary listened to me. So I don’t know what that means. I should have been a rapper, but when I saw a videotape of Arthur Ashe playing tennis for Wimbledon, I felt a yearning grow inside of my gut, and it grew until I raised my hand to my mouth to smother the scream of nostalgia that I was feeling.
I wanted people to like me so I started rapping at cafeterias and bleacher stands. People drank cola and munched on popcorn as I talked about growing up in the hood of Burke. Real **** went down in the Burke. Like **** you wouldn’t believe. And that’s real.
I hung out on a rooftop overlooking the city drowned in sunshine that was sad as the girl who left me. Kanye West saved me from becoming a piece of **** And even if he’s an ******* now, everyone knows he was the greatest with 808’s and Heartbreak. Robocop used to play from the car speakers, as we rolled spliffs in the front seat, the wind pouring into the windows.
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 1:52 PM UTC
When I was little I was scared of things like sleeping in a room without my sister and the dark.
And I once choked on a cookie while crying,
And my babysitter used to let me off of my groundings if I promised not to tell.
And my aunt used to put m&ms; at the bottom of my bowl of popcorn, and everytime I was surprised.
When I was little I loved Hilary Duff and Mary-Kate & Ashley
I owned all the movies and cds.
I wanted to be pretty and skinny and blonde.
I practiced my signature to look like Hilary's
And tried to smile like Ashley.
I named my dolls Mary-Kate.
I wanted to be them.
When I was little I saw ghosts.
I would sit on the steps and talk to them,
Discussing movies and my favorite tv shows and how badly I wanted an msn account.
And they followed me and taunted me but mostly they were nice so they were my friends.
Now Im a big girl and Im still scared of things like
Sleeping in a room without my sister and the dark
And I don't eat while I cry anymore, because I once choked on a cookie and my mom ignored me.
And I don't have a babysitter anymore, but I never leave my room anyways.
And my aunt doesn't surprise me anymore.
I'm a big girl now,
And I know that Mary-Kate was a drug addict,
And that Hilary had an eating disorder
And that I look bad blonde
And that Im neither pretty or skinny
And that my smile will never look like Ashleys.
I know that I have an awful signature.
And that all those girls were sick.
But now I'm sick
Does this mean Im finally like them?
I'm a big girl now,
And instead of Disney stars, I idolize girls on tumblr
With thigh gaps and long hair
And ribs that stick out
I want so badly to be them.
Im a big girl.
I still see ghosts, but they aren't friendly anymore.
They pull my hair and dig at my skin and whisper nasty things to me.
We talk about death and blood and how good it must feel to be so skinny
That you can lie on your back and count your ribs
One
By
One.
They aren't nice anymore, but they're still my friends.
I'm a big girl now.
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
if you give donations
to a political candidate
this will obtain favors for you
which so satiate
Mrs Clinton doth wish to become
the next Whitehouse resident
with the largesse of George Soros
she'll be under his cash compliment
***** deals and corruption
will spread like veritable wild fires
as Mrs Clinton is held
captive to power hungry desires
the American people
are the ones who'll have the final say
as the 2016 Demorcratic Presidential candidate
is thoroughly swept away
George and other wealthy donors might find
that they've backed the wrong nag
should they put their wads of money
in Hilary's nomination bag
one Clinton in the Whitehouse
proved to be one too many
and if donors are smart with their bucks
on Mrs Clinton's campaign they'll spend not a penny
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
Look over here!
there's a reason to be scared.
Pay no attention to the truth
there's misdirection we've prepared
Forget the facts
national security's at risk
we'll just sidestep what you've read
after all, does it exist?
It's just a game
a little give, a little take
we didn't mean it quite like that
c'mon give us all a break
After all
you have given us your trust
and if think that we're so bad
you should hear what they say of us
Can you blame them?
Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 6:56 PM UTC
Care to elaborate?
There are so many.
Colin Kaepernick, e.g.,
Trying so hard to work the
African-American community--
A useful constituency--to wit:
Barack Obama, no stranger to ********
Then there's Donald Trump:
Like Andy Dufresne who "crawled
Through a river of **** he expects to
Come out "Clean on the other side."
And lest we forget: Hilary.
Mrs. Clinton uses ******** like magic.
She's Cruella Deville disguised as
Glinda the Good Witch in Oz.
Just ask Bill.
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 11:53 PM UTC
And it's still hard to believe it's been a year
even after a year has turned into a year and one month
And the burn that follows a tequila shot
is accompanied by your laugh
And coconut anything smells like you
And anytime any one of the many songs you loved plays
You are all I see
And I think about your eyelashes
when I put my makeup on
And red lipstick and polka dots
cannot be worn without remembering you on any other day
And lemon squares taste
like those good times
LOTR? The Beatles? Pink Floyd? Fleetwood Mac? Shakespeare? Hilary Duff?(only you would understand)
All enjoyed with you in mind
And everything that's awesome
has become a reminder
that you missed being our tequila queen on the first day;
that you never got to wear your cap and gown
and eat pancakes at 5 am;
never got to see eighteen
and put your well educated vote to use;
and you never got to stand to your full five feet and one inch
and say to the world
"Here I come."
And I guess the songbirds keep singing
with that blackbird
in the dead of night
But it's hard to hear
because we're all butchering Bennie and the Jets
at the top of our lungs
from atop someone's couch
Just like you'd have wanted,
just like you'd have done.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 2:05 AM UTC
I have noticed a handful of things about Hello Poetry, however similar or dissimilar. I'd like to share my observations in poetic form.
I once was in love, but I didn't work out .
Please understand that my love
was unique and you wouldn't understand, but please understand
what you wouldn't understand.
My love is like (insert ridiculous description, regarding a storm, blood, or an event)
and my heart beats like a caged
monkey, pounding with **** covered knuckles.
Did I mention how intelligent I believe I am?
I shall now act confident so I can
compensate for this crippling insecurity. (Insert Will Hunting rant).
Metaphor. Metaphor.
******** metaphor.
Bloated poem
trying too hard.
Men are **** I will now rant
about how sexist they are
while being sexist and narrowminded.
Liberals! Conservative!
Hilary! Trump!
Liar! **** hair!
*** *** *** ***
*** *** ***
Something, something divisive.
Something, something,
******** philosophy.
Hey! Over here!
Look at this haiku about nature!
Hey! Over here!
Read my 67th love poem!
Ugh. You lot are dreadful.
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 4:50 PM UTC
Her name was Hilary Urma Romalis Thomas.
but they just called her HURT
Her eyes sparkeled with every ray of sun
but her smile never turned the right way.
Tears was what she created for fun
And she never had much to say
I thought that she just might be shy
but they said nope that's just HURT
But I couldn't excpet that answer
It was something so beautiful about her
A mystery I wanted to uncover
A joy I wanted to discover
Asking questions to find out more about her
but they just said that's HURT
So i tried, and I connect
I Linked into her mind
As we begin to interact
Im excited at what I find
I learn that she is kind
But they say that cant be HURT
And I said that is was
it is what she use to be
Before she gaind the Thomas
That added the misery
But now shes in Love with me...
And they say Thank God that you got HURT
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 9:02 AM UTC
The cast iron cot frame stood in the garden
At the top left and held the relics of blue
Unleaded paint used to cover a girlish pink
The mattress disintegrated it contained plants
Mother’s cuttings from an extensive garden.
The girl now eleven and very thin
Sat in a homemade embroidered skirt
And played with her unbraided hair
Her feet neatly together like a doll
A teenage doll from The Pedigree range.
The beginning of ******* were forming
And insecurities and dissatisfaction open
That day in the sun with cousin Hilary
Two different specimens of womanhood
I only really knew her a short time .
Love Mary ***
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 10:57 AM UTC
As I sit here on my patio
Watching the cars go by.
I think how peaceful this day is
As I see the USA FLAG flying high
Then inside I go, turn on the news...
And ask myself...WHY, WHY, WHY...
Do I watch this news
There is nothing good to hear
Another shooting,
Another storm, fires
and politics...WHY, WHY, WHY...
Hilary hates Trump and
Trump hates Hilary
We already know that
Isn't there something good to share?
I guess it doesn't help
To have ABC and CBS news apps
On my phone....ALERTS, ALERTS, ALERTS...
ooops there goes one now...
Catch ya later...
Judy
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 4:56 AM UTC
With Hilary's election
Bill gets an ********
And tries to ***** his wife
Only done once in his life
As she leads in the wrong direction
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 12:08 AM UTC