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"homecoming" poems
**Festivals of my land are** Filled with The brilliance of colors.. The elegance of attire.. The resonance of lights.. The flamboyance of richness.. Of The essence of laughter.. The sense of happiness.. The fragrance of love .. The immence feeling of Joy.. The exuberance of festivities.. The relevance of celebration.. The Perseverance of culture.. Its all about My Motherland.... My India.. Yes !! Its that time of the year When 1/7 th population of the world celebrates The Festival of Lights.. On the dark night of No Moon .. The whole country is filled with lights.. From earthen lamps and LEDs To Celebrate the win of Good over evil.. To celebrate The homecoming - after the win.. The brightness of lights.. The purity of air.. The brimming faces.. The laughter echoes.. Elders, kids, adults all come together, To fill the land with Sparkles and Divinity.... Diwali it is !! Diwali it will be !! The festival of love.. The festival of respect.. The festival of sharing.. The festival of caring.. The festival of loving.. The festival of giving .. !!! ** Sharing, Caring, Loving, Giving.... The young kids rhyme.. We teach them by action, That we want them to remember...!! Happy Diwali.. The festival of lights..!! ** Sparkle In Wisdom Nov 2018
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Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 8:43 AM UTC
Festival of Lights
While all of my friends will tell me no, I say yes because I can't watch you go. While all of my friends won't like you at all, You're quite the catch, and it's worth the fall. And though I've just met you, I can't help it, you see, I'm thinking about you, hoping you're thinking about me.
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Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 3:59 AM UTC
Homecoming
The switch is welcomed with arms open like a soldier's homecoming. — — It's not love, but it's certainly not hate.
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Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
Music, Marijuana, Warm Skin.
Hoes Outing Mostly Everything Cause Our Manatees Instant message them Nudes
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Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 11:10 PM UTC
Homecoming
I am building Building a home Return here after After you've roamed And back into Into my arms. I am building Building a life A getaway from From your strife To make what's What's wrong right I am building Building a family A place for you You and me Where we may live Life life freely.
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Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
Homecoming
i slipped the silk fabric over the curve of my hip and the scarred flesh of my thigh in a dressing room with three of my friends behind me, ******* in the fat of my stomach. they say black is supposed to be slimming but it only made me bloated; maybe the mirror was a liar (i know it didn't lie). an elephant with too-thick eyeliner and a too-thick body stared back at me and i bit through the skin of my lip till it bled and i wanted to live on some other planet where elephants were appreciated. "that's the best one you've tried on yet," someone said, but i couldn't hear them over the red-eyed demon within me which whispered of shoving two fingers down the trachea, messy but quick, everything gone in an instant. if this was my best one, i was doomed because my eyes were glazed over with the misunderstanding that beauty would never apply to me. "i'm just gonna go- go to the restroom-" and the red eyed thing inside me cracks its whip, takes over the nerves in my brain, makes my legs sprint to the toilets and it's over, it's done, the food gone among stomach acid, falling hair, and teeth erosion. i can only imagine what the restaurant worker who was forced to clean rainbow-coloured ***** in the toilet thought.
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Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC
on homecoming dresses and recovering bulimics.
The day you died I went into the dirt, Into the lightless hibernaculum Where bees, striped black and gold, sleep out the blizzard Like hieratic stones, and the ground is hard. It was good for twenty years, that wintering -- As if you never existed, as if I came God-fathered into the world from my mother's belly: Her wide bed wore the stain of divinity. I had nothing to do with guilt or anything When I wormed back under my mother's heart. Small as a doll in my dress of innocence I lay dreaming your epic, image by image. Nobody died or withered on that stage. Everything took place in a durable whiteness. The day I woke, I woke on Churchyard Hill. I found your name, I found your bones and all Enlisted in a cramped necropolis your speckled stone skewed by an iron fence. In this charity ward, this poorhouse, where the dead Crowd foot to foot, head to head, no flower Breaks the soil. This is Azalea path. A field of burdock opens to the south. Six feet of yellow gravel cover you. The artificial red sage does not stir In the basket of plastic evergreens they put At the headstone next to yours, nor does it rot, Although the rains dissolve a ****** dye: The ersatz petals drip, and they drip red. Another kind of redness bothers me: The day your slack sail drank my sister's breath The flat sea purpled like that evil cloth My mother unrolled at your last homecoming. I borrow the silts of an old tragedy. The truth is, one late October, at my birth-cry A scorpion stung its head, an ill-starred thing; My mother dreamed you face down in the sea. The stony actors poise and pause for breath. I brought my love to bear, and then you died. It was the gangrene ate you to the bone My mother said: you died like any man. How shall I age into that state of mind? I am the ghost of an infamous suicide, My own blue razor rusting at my throat. O pardon the one who knocks for pardon at Your gate, father -- your hound-bitch, daughter, friend. It was my love that did us both to death.
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6.6k
Electra On Azalea Path
The day you died I went into the dirt, Into the lightless hibernaculum Where bees, striped black and gold, sleep out the blizzard Like hieratic stones, and the ground is hard. It was good for twenty years, that wintering -- As if you never existed, as if I came God-fathered into the world from my mother's belly: Her wide bed wore the stain of divinity. I had nothing to do with guilt or anything When I wormed back under my mother's heart. Small as a doll in my dress of innocence I lay dreaming your epic, image by image. Nobody died or withered on that stage. Everything took place in a durable whiteness. The day I woke, I woke on Churchyard Hill. I found your name, I found your bones and all Enlisted in a cramped necropolis your speckled stone skewed by an iron fence. In this charity ward, this poorhouse, where the dead Crowd foot to foot, head to head, no flower Breaks the soil. This is Azalea path. A field of burdock opens to the south. Six feet of yellow gravel cover you. The artificial red sage does not stir In the basket of plastic evergreens they put At the headstone next to yours, nor does it rot, Although the rains dissolve a ****** dye: The ersatz petals drip, and they drip red. Another kind of redness bothers me: The day your slack sail drank my sister's breath The flat sea purpled like that evil cloth My mother unrolled at your last homecoming. I borrow the silts of an old tragedy. The truth is, one late October, at my birth-cry A scorpion stung its head, an ill-starred thing; My mother dreamed you face down in the sea. The stony actors poise and pause for breath. I brought my love to bear, and then you died. It was the gangrene ate you to the bone My mother said: you died like any man. How shall I age into that state of mind? I am the ghost of an infamous suicide, My own blue razor rusting at my throat. O pardon the one who knocks for pardon at Your gate, father -- your hound-bitch, daughter, friend. It was my love that did us both to death.
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46
As the Mohawks straddle the goal line We hold our breaths. We need a win under our belts, And this is the most important game of all. I feel the tension in my stomach, Now in my hand, As you take it into yours. Normally I would be thinking of you But we are so focused on this touchdown "Hike!" Shouts number 7, and there it goes. Caught by 22. Almost intercepted, But not quite. We go wild. Hearts pounding Mohawk fans cheering We won. You grab me in a huge embrace and I can't breathe But its not because you're holding me too tightly. Together. Without thought: Thought of consequence Thought of the future Thought of pain Thought of who is watching, You kiss me right there and then And even though your eyes are closed I still see the blue in my mind from moments before, Letting me know that it is okay to dive in. As the cheering roar dies out I see that blue again Confused and happy Or is that me? On this homecoming night We won And I'm not talking about the team.
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Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
Homecoming
Hello Old Friend, I just wanted you to hear me. I think you heard every word, but I see you now fear me. I used to get nostalgic remembering our talks under starlight When we idly spoke of dreams, and other things, and the world felt peaceful at night. But today I spoke of blood and smoke, and of human violence, and watched the widening whites of your eyes within this smothering silence. I apologize for pretending we could carry on as before. You say you don't condemn me; they shouldn't send me off to war. I wanted a friend's reconnection, not hollow pity. I now recognize you can't sympathize with the dying of a moral identity. In grief, not guilt, I sought my friend.  This was not a confession. No vain imagining of a simple moral or life lesson. Don't wanna' hear soulless, canned regurgitations Of your textbooks' and professors' second-hand explanations! You avoid my eyes, staring intensely at the floor. We both can list my sins, but why is it only I can list yours? Solipsism and narcissism. You live a predatory lifestyle, ***** you're bored and wanting more. That's it, then.  Goodbye, Old Friend. I feel worse having spoken, and I won't speak to you of this again.
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Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
Homecoming
from the start I should've saw your mischievous heart Like the girl who talked to you when we were eating lunch "But, you said you had a crush on me." she exclaimed, yet I didn't have a hunch. you're.. a player. I should've saw any sign. but slowly the shards of painful memories pass by that I find you took two girls to the homecoming dance, but before that, we had our first romance why did I trust you to be loyal maybe because I was blinded with love and was treated royal there was too many signs... Like the messages I saw on your phone when I checked the time, that person calling you the same loving names you wanted me to call you? her name, "Alaina?" You convinced me it was just a "role-play" and I didn't see any red flags? I just wanted to believe you loved me the girl's name, Alaina ...who is Alaina?
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Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 7:07 PM UTC
I should've saw the signs
I wish feelings didn't exist But they do And they persist to ruin my life. All this strife. Just because three guys Imagine me as their future wife. How did I get here? Keep reading if you want to hear But please, no fangirl tears. It starts in my early years. I met him. He was my best friend. He was my first crush. I was his. I left for another school. We hadn't seen each other since. Middle school. I met a boy my first year there. It was infatuation upon first greeting The second year I finally took up conversation with him. I fell harder into my feelings. The next year, He was mine. And I was his. If only it stayed like this. First love. First kiss. Our love was pure bliss. It's what I will always miss. And it was my fault. I ruined it. I can't do anything about it. Summer camp. A friend. Later a close friend. Now, super close. Very close friends. We know each other inside and out. We're always there for each other. Always. Things went farther. Everything caught up. My kindergarten friend goes to my school. My middle school boyfriend is friends with him. Apparently, they're cousins. My ex/ guy friend still likes me. My kindergarten friend likes me. My kindergarten friend took me to homecoming. Later, the boys fight. I don't understand why girls want to be fought over. It was awful. Later, my camp friend and I confess our feelings. So.. things happened. I couldn't be happier, But long distance *****
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Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 10:36 PM UTC
It's Complicated
*Enveloped in the sacred blue your lyrically beckoning shores an ancient anchoring to renew safe harbor unknown before Depths of clarity and calmness in truth too deep to fathom forever guarded by the goddess sunken treasures not abandoned This ship must cross the latitude persistent winds setting sails a changing in its attitude soon homecoming prevails*
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Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 9:41 AM UTC
Adriatic Longing
A funeral for a Great King Mourning Ageing Descendants carve their paths Glory Heorot A Demonic mood-killer Lonely Grendel A hero answers the call Distant Majestic A vow of aid Impressive Doubtful Claims become realized Death Celebration Danger revisits Vengeance Maternal A journey to the marsh Darkness Fiends An underwater duel Headless Reward The hero departs Sadness Homecoming A joyous return Stories Changes A death in the family Sadness Inheritance 50 years prospers the Hero-King Greatness Theft A beast is awoken Ancient Furious The people suffer Dust Ashes An old king rebels Victory Grief A funeral for a Great King
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Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 10:54 AM UTC
The Man They Called Beowulf
Estrogen swimming, Testosterone pumping, Basically just another excuse for teens to drink alcohol and smoke **** But **** if you get laid… props.
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Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
Homecoming Night
it was the hooded-sweatshirt, sit-close-and-pretend-you’re-cold, bleacher-seat, whiskey-and-coke homecoming that you never had when the leaves changed. but the leaves changed anyway. the damp grass smelling vaguely like your fireplace as the world got quieter, your nose in your precalc and your foot tapping and how-many-years-left of solo fridays, you counted the suburban stars but didn’t tell anybody how ******* beautiful they were above your head, because they were yours. when you wore your high school colors, you were cold for real. no pretense in your shivering, no flutter in your abdomen because he wasn’t gonna talk to you, and you didn’t really care, you shrugged. but the leaves changed anyway. and you changed, slowly. grew taller and smarter and prettier and then the remaining solo fridays shrank to none, and you left. big sweet snowdrifts turned to spring and you shared whiskey-and-coke with the city, your stars dimmer but abdomen finally fuller, and limbs warmer and no sweatshirt because you didn’t need one, and hands all over to hold and feeling all three kinds of love at once. and then the accidental homecoming, and the changing of the leaves and the hooded-sweatshirt shivers and knowing you’re so much bigger now than the suburban stars and the backward glances of the bleacher-seat kids, but the damp grass still smells like your fireplace and suddenly you’re small again, just for a second but god that second, you shiver and turn around again. you’re so much bigger than this but homecoming, this whiskey-and-coke homecoming still isn't yours.
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Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
Homecoming
it was the hooded-sweatshirt, sit-close-and-pretend-you’re-cold, bleacher-seat, whiskey-and-coke homecoming that you never had when the leaves changed. but the leaves changed anyway. the damp grass smelling vaguely like your fireplace as the world got quieter, your nose in your precalc and your foot tapping and how-many-years-left of solo fridays, you counted the suburban stars but didn’t tell anybody how ******* beautiful they were above your head, because they were yours. when you wore your high school colors, you were cold for real. no pretense in your shivering, no flutter in your abdomen because he wasn’t gonna talk to you, and you didn’t really care, you shrugged. but the leaves changed anyway. and you changed, slowly. grew taller and smarter and prettier and then the remaining solo fridays shrank to none, and you left. big sweet snowdrifts turned to spring and you shared whiskey-and-coke with the city, your stars dimmer but abdomen finally fuller, and limbs warmer and no sweatshirt because you didn’t need one, and hands all over to hold and feeling all three kinds of love at once. and then the accidental homecoming, and the changing of the leaves and the hooded-sweatshirt shivers and knowing you’re so much bigger now than the suburban stars and the backward glances of the bleacher-seat kids, but the damp grass still smells like your fireplace and suddenly you’re small again, just for a second but god that second, you shiver and turn around again. you’re so much bigger than this but homecoming, this whiskey-and-coke homecoming still isn't yours.
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21
God blesses your hands, takes them both and lifts you so you can stand. This is your homecoming, a long time in coming, 72 years, eleven months, and one week you’ve been running this race, so I think we can afford a little grace when you sprint the last mile, so strong and sweet into your Father’s open arms. And you know those angles leading you away ain’t got nothing on you, not even reasons for you to stay. And they’ll be trying hard, cause they know they haven’t got a thing compared to your heart. This is your homecoming, a final graduation, a certification you’ve done right by life. And we’ll still be here singing sacred Somns from the earth you once called your own, waiting to see you smile in the wind even though your gone. And we are so happy for you, but we’re still human, and selfish, so we’re a little sad and regretful too. But we won’t ever stop missing you, cause this is your homecoming, and the Lord says it’s time to go along. And when you see us again you’ll be so proud, cause we’re going to keep on, and we’re going be strong, and we’re going give this life every last bit of fight we’ve got just like you did. So we’ll let you go, for a little while, for your homecoming. Cause someday we’ll be coming home too.
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Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 4:28 PM UTC
Homecoming
Nang mawala ang pangalawa kong trabaho Parang ‘di ko alam kung saan uli may bago Hanggang sa ang CapSU ay naalala ko Walang atubili’y akin siyang tinungo At sinubukan bago kong palad dito Sa TED kung saan una akong itinalaga Mga batikang **** dito aking nakasalamuha Sa Amang Hall kung saan araw-araw silang kasama Kayrami kong natutunan mula sa kanila Minsang itinuring ko na parang mga ina Sa Crim. na huli ko ditong tinuluyan Para ko naring naging ama si Sir Hapitan Kung sa TED puro kababaihan, sa Crim. puro kalalakihan Akala ko noon ay mahirap silang turuan Sa huli ay akin pa silang ipinaglaban Akin ding naturuan ang taga-ibang departamento Agri., Vet.Med., Computer – ang 5 ay kumpleto Kaya ang naging tingin ko sa mga ito Ay parang sa Encantadia na mga engkantado Taglay ang katangian ng 5 elemento Dito rin sa Encapsudia, ako’y naging estudyanteng **** Nang mag-Uniting, mga estudyante ko’y naging kaklase ko May mga kaklase din ako sa highschool na naging estudyante ko rito Kaya dito ay parang mahiwaga ang naging tadhana ko CapSU-Dumarao o Encapsudia…ikaw ang Kapuso kong CapSU! -10/14/2017 *a tribute to CapSU-Dumarao who is now having its 3rd Alumni Homecoming this 35th year of its existence
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Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 10:05 PM UTC
Ang Kapuso Kong CapSU
everyone was dancing having fun not caring about anything. but i stood still, scared of the voices, feeling like i didn't fit in. when he bent down to kiss me, i pulled back. i felt bad but.... i just couldn't. all i do is hurt people and I'm so sick of it. i cant even be happy at my own homecoming dance. he told me to have a good time because everything gets better. but they don't, its only for a little while that they do.
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Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 10:38 AM UTC
Homecoming Dance
This may be way too early But as people always say You only live once, YOLO But I usually don't follow This is not a normal poem There is no rhyme or pattern Just an explanation to you I know it hasn't been long Since it all abruptly ended But I am just not quite sure Not sure on when it's right Or even when it is wrong But I am sure on one thing The facts about you, Maddie You're adorable, cute, pretty Beautiful, stunning, lavishing Any description that you want You ARE absolutely amazing I've been debating to do this But I am needing to ask you I know I said I wouldn't go But will you, Madelyn Go to homecoming with me?
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Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
Homecoming Proposal
together paradise, nearby connection; distance vanishes, real-time embrace; coincidental timing, inarguable intersection; fated misfortune, mutual blessing; soothing aura, blissful homecoming; affectionate cradle, passionate possession; fervent assertion, warmly pursued; together forever, resurrected relation
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Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
finally reunited
It's been 5 months Recovering from 2 years Of gentle giggles and heart felt hugs 2 am conversations and 3 am tired kisses 5 am would bring brightening skies and quiet goodnights You always were a night-owl I remember running through the forest Staring out at our special spot Listening to the water trickle down the creek And something about the sparks in your eyes Really made the place disappear Even surrounded by all this magnificent nature I was still lost in your beauty I remember telling you my dreams The adventurous journey across the Milky Way When it rained clocks and time stopped And that really stupid one about the tricycle in the skate park You would always listen and tell me yours But the real dream was seeing you when I woke up I remember many special things with you You were my first girlfriend My stunning homecoming date The first person to make me cry out of happiness You were my best friend I will never forget that I remember a bitter-sweet memory of us too. The room was quiet I only heard the scratching from your pet mice. The street lamp crawled through the blinds And a warm hand touched my red, flooded, cheek And our lips met My first kiss, Your first kiss Complete. It's been 5 months Recovering from 2 years Of gentle giggles and heart felt hugs 2 am conversations and 3 am tired kisses 5am only brings my tear filled eyes nowadays I've always been an insomniac
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Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 10:06 PM UTC
The Night-Owl and The Insomniac
I think my mom's a homophobe I think this because she said broken truths when I told her about homecoming I told her about the girl with soft lips and small hands that fit perfectly with mine But I just called her Haley I had new words she told me They suspiciously matched my schools words Freak abomination loser I now wonder if they were talking on the sidelines I know I'm supposed to love my mom But do I still have to If she hated me first? She praised the all loving god onto me Telling me his love was a lie And I was going with the sinners To the place where they drink fire ***** I think my mom's a homophobe I text my religious cousin Does God love everyone Undoubtedly because you are perfect to Him Then why does my mom hate me? She made me get on my knees and pray Pray a prayer I hope goes unanswered By those who I think aren't even there I think my mom's a homophobe I know I'm supposed to love my mother But how can I If I don't even know how to love myself? Every What is that You're such a waste It can be cured Like a snake on the asphalt basking in the hate Until the asphalt is the road and I am run over by Self pity. Self Hatrid. Self Absorbed. Yes **** the terrorists **** the rapists **** the robbers and the muggers **** them all Because who I love Is more important Me, I'm in dire need of your opinion Mirrors don't line my eyes up anymore I think they forgot where to put them Because I forgot Where to look Looking only at the negative Going on suicide boards Instead of Love boards Why am I the one being subjected to evil When I am only trying to love Being hated for only Loving Mirror mirror on the wall Who is the prettiest of them all My lover is the one I see Her soft lips and small hands I think my moms a homophobe And I don't know how to breath anymore
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Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 12:06 AM UTC
I think my Moms a homophobe
I think my mom's a homophobe I think this because she said broken truths when I told her about homecoming I told her about the girl with soft lips and small hands that fit perfectly with mine But I just called her Haley I had new words she told me They suspiciously matched my schools words Freak abomination loser I now wonder if they were talking on the sidelines I know I'm supposed to love my mom But do I still have to If she hated me first? She praised the all loving god onto me Telling me his love was a lie And I was going with the sinners To the place where they drink fire ***** I think my mom's a homophobe I text my religious cousin Does God love everyone Undoubtedly because you are perfect to Him Then why does my mom hate me? She made me get on my knees and pray Pray a prayer I hope goes unanswered By those who I think aren't even there I think my mom's a homophobe I know I'm supposed to love my mother But how can I If I don't even know how to love myself? Every What is that You're such a waste It can be cured Like a snake on the asphalt basking in the hate Until the asphalt is the road and I am run over by Self pity. Self Hatrid. Self Absorbed. Yes **** the terrorists **** the rapists **** the robbers and the muggers **** them all Because who I love Is more important Me, I'm in dire need of your opinion Mirrors don't line my eyes up anymore I think they forgot where to put them Because I forgot Where to look Looking only at the negative Going on suicide boards Instead of Love boards Why am I the one being subjected to evil When I am only trying to love Being hated for only Loving Mirror mirror on the wall Who is the prettiest of them all My lover is the one I see Her soft lips and small hands I think my moms a homophobe And I don't know how to breath anymore
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61
The oldest one has set the bar - Brown eyes, brown hair, natural tan, Teeth that look just the way teeth should with no aid from metal or NASA-patented plastics. Kappa Alpha Theta, college homecoming queen, Following in the footsteps of our parents, To someday hand out bottles of pills with her God-given smile and white coat to match. I know she's not perfect, but I like to pretend. Then there's me. Then the next youngest, Long brown hair, massive brown eyes, pale skin with the occasional freckle. Her awkward phase - back brace, teeth brace, allergies, inhaler, tall and gangly - paid off in the best way. She wears her high heels to high school and looks straight off the runway. She wears her pointe shoes and unfolds like a plant growing in fast-motion. She sits at the table and draws and eats nothing but carbs and still looks made of sticks. She wants to be a cartoonist, people tell her to be a model, a ballerina, Our mother insists she's far too brilliant. Then the baby. Thin blonde hair, blue-grey eyes with a ring on the outside, grey skin when she's tired. As Dad says: the printer ran out of ink. She's beautiful like the rest, of course, but she's not finished yet, still learning that her peers are generally wrong. She frets and worries, but she listens to the music I tell her to, and her expensive pockets have less and less rhinestones. I tell her not to hug me so much when I come home, But it's fine. I'm proud of her. Someday she'll stop screaming at our mother and realize what she has to look forward to.
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Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 1:39 PM UTC
i have more sisters than you do
The oldest one has set the bar - Brown eyes, brown hair, natural tan, Teeth that look just the way teeth should with no aid from metal or NASA-patented plastics. Kappa Alpha Theta, college homecoming queen, Following in the footsteps of our parents, To someday hand out bottles of pills with her God-given smile and white coat to match. I know she's not perfect, but I like to pretend. Then there's me. Then the next youngest, Long brown hair, massive brown eyes, pale skin with the occasional freckle. Her awkward phase - back brace, teeth brace, allergies, inhaler, tall and gangly - paid off in the best way. She wears her high heels to high school and looks straight off the runway. She wears her pointe shoes and unfolds like a plant growing in fast-motion. She sits at the table and draws and eats nothing but carbs and still looks made of sticks. She wants to be a cartoonist, people tell her to be a model, a ballerina, Our mother insists she's far too brilliant. Then the baby. Thin blonde hair, blue-grey eyes with a ring on the outside, grey skin when she's tired. As Dad says: the printer ran out of ink. She's beautiful like the rest, of course, but she's not finished yet, still learning that her peers are generally wrong. She frets and worries, but she listens to the music I tell her to, and her expensive pockets have less and less rhinestones. I tell her not to hug me so much when I come home, But it's fine. I'm proud of her. Someday she'll stop screaming at our mother and realize what she has to look forward to.
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27
A child wakes up , to mosquito bites, and Christ-on-a-bike-it’s-diwali , the fiesta of lights. the welcome vibes of halcyon tarried as hugs and gifts and smiles are carried, and waving her wrinkles mid-air ,daadi says today! god , to his land was ferried. Afar, the bronze herald of worship time, the temple bell goes off in a celestial chime. and cometh the priest , for the fire-ritual, line my pockets now , come on , be spiritual. but duh! your dhoti hast no pockets , saintly dummy; tsk.. fret ye not , for it goes straight into my tummy. mid-morning now , and mummy’s high-strung; ‘dust it well and dust it thorough and dust it till you burst a lung’. ‘garam pakode’ !! cries papa in his croaking tenor , ‘but one by one’ and now he begins with the manners. mummy is the last one , picking over the bones, she always has been , for what a family she owns. A muezzin somewhere cries the holy decree heads bow down and a pigeon flies free, from the onion dome , below the staccato claps ‘Ooparwala ! … ‘ the muezzin gasps , and ‘Ooparwala!.. ‘ a crowd chants in tow , and ‘Oops ! … ‘ the bird sheds it’s something and ***** soars high , and takes a bow . hey presto! the night has come. the moonless night of the homecoming lord. sweetmeats and sugars and syrups and us , laddu-barfi , well , that strikes a chord . Lakshmi , her owl , the glutton god with his mouse , revered an’ pleased an’ fed an’ flattered , and coaxed never to leave the house while out there , bombs and crackers burst and batter. The witch’s hour already , and the man ain’t home yet the lord is home , to get things straight, while the men all out on a greedy conquest; pennies on the dollar , unwavering faith still, for the beckoning bait . A child wakes up , to mosquito bites gone now is the carnival of lights. a goddess fled , a father bled a child scrapes off the waxy remains , the leftovers of candles ,pains, and no gains.
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Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 3:15 PM UTC
WAXY STAINS FROM DIWALI
A child wakes up , to mosquito bites, and Christ-on-a-bike-it’s-diwali , the fiesta of lights. the welcome vibes of halcyon tarried as hugs and gifts and smiles are carried, and waving her wrinkles mid-air ,daadi says today! god , to his land was ferried. Afar, the bronze herald of worship time, the temple bell goes off in a celestial chime. and cometh the priest , for the fire-ritual, line my pockets now , come on , be spiritual. but duh! your dhoti hast no pockets , saintly dummy; tsk.. fret ye not , for it goes straight into my tummy. mid-morning now , and mummy’s high-strung; ‘dust it well and dust it thorough and dust it till you burst a lung’. ‘garam pakode’ !! cries papa in his croaking tenor , ‘but one by one’ and now he begins with the manners. mummy is the last one , picking over the bones, she always has been , for what a family she owns. A muezzin somewhere cries the holy decree heads bow down and a pigeon flies free, from the onion dome , below the staccato claps ‘Ooparwala ! … ‘ the muezzin gasps , and ‘Ooparwala!.. ‘ a crowd chants in tow , and ‘Oops ! … ‘ the bird sheds it’s something and ***** soars high , and takes a bow . hey presto! the night has come. the moonless night of the homecoming lord. sweetmeats and sugars and syrups and us , laddu-barfi , well , that strikes a chord . Lakshmi , her owl , the glutton god with his mouse , revered an’ pleased an’ fed an’ flattered , and coaxed never to leave the house while out there , bombs and crackers burst and batter. The witch’s hour already , and the man ain’t home yet the lord is home , to get things straight, while the men all out on a greedy conquest; pennies on the dollar , unwavering faith still, for the beckoning bait . A child wakes up , to mosquito bites gone now is the carnival of lights. a goddess fled , a father bled a child scrapes off the waxy remains , the leftovers of candles ,pains, and no gains.
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Standing here at the pier, I take in my surroundings, trying to keep my heart steady and my mind clear. A crowd envelopes me as we all wait for that one person. Men are holding flowers, Women holding children, Children holding signs. Standing here at the pier, I hold nothing but my heart in my hands, Waiting until we may embrace again. My mouth waters while my stomach twists into knots. The air tastes of candy scented perfume. Trying to get rid of the taste, I take a swig of cold, refreshing water that also helps ease my stomach Standing here at the pier, My stomach ties in knots, Waiting to see your face again. Figures start to head my way. I gasp. Frantically, my eyes search the crowd, Searching for just a glimpse of you. Standing here at the pier, My heart will not steady, My mind hectic with just wanting to see you. The crowd starts to disappear, They've found they're family They're heading home With their family, and I'm Standing here at the pier, Longing to find you, Wishing to find you soon. A tall figure starts heading in my direction. I squint to see Is that you? My lungs fill with air and I run. My vision blurs, but its okay. I know where I'm going. I'm running. Running home to my family. Our bodies collide in a warm embrace, I'm lifted up off the ground and swung around, "I've missed you so much, Dad." I tell him through sobs. "I've missed you too baby girl. Lets go home." Linking our pinkies together, we walk Together again. We're headed home.
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Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
Homecoming