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ThePoet Oct 2015
The innocence in my
nature robbed me 
of all that I ever had.

My pure intentions 
always left me alone 
and misunderstood.

I used to be a good 
person afraid of all
that was deemed bad.

But now I'm a bad
person afraid of all
that was deemed good. 

© Sarah Ahmed (ThePoet)
Robin Lemmen Jul 2018
She is a lovely thought to be had
And makes you oh so mad
When she smiles at you
With big green eyes of genuine care
But don't you know a fantasy
Can never match up to reality
It is hard when she is so beautiful
In your mind, where you take her
To bed each and every night
Lay down her perfectly carved body
Tracing lines and taking her to the edge
Dipping down low to taste her sweet love
Until reality takes you by the hand
Leads you back home
Far, far away from her
Amelia Glass Apr 2013
it wasn't snowing yet, but they'd told us it would.
probably I said something infantile, about how
I could smell it, the frostiness of snowflakes in the
air, because you smiled that knowing smile of yours,
like you were an adult and i was a child and you
didn't have the heart to take my innocence away.

that look always made my heart smile, sadly, and
it also drove me up a wall, partly because it made
me want to hug you close and pity you the
burden of assumed moral superiority, and whisper
that you, too were a child. but mostly because you
were right— I clung to my naiveté while you, you
had already had the good sense to push it away.
it followed you around with sad puppy eyes, but
you knew it and you kept it at arm's length.
you brave, brave soul.

when it did start to snow I wasn't surprised. you
were. you didn't say anything. we were in
a deserted school hallway, listening, removed
from the other kids' cries. we were
delighted too, but the others wanted to run home
early, and we knew the definition
of home better than they. and I can speak only for
myself but it seemed we both wanted only to stay
forever side by side, tucked away in our corner,
me reveling in the softness of love and friendship
and winter, you trying to be there with me but having
trouble leaving your mind, where that sad-eyed
puppy snapped at your heels. it whimpered
but you held your own.

and slowly, we built up moments like this one.
we wallowed in each other and in the coziness
of cloudy days. we read good poetry and
heard good music and took photographs as we
discussed life from our  softer world.
there were moments of such pure white happiness
that they came full circle to being sad,
simply because I knew I would never be that
happy again, and I was not wrong, and I didn't
want to be. and we had
sad moments, too, never ever think I am not
happy to be sad with you.

and slowly, too, your innocence knew its
defeat, and sat obediently at your feet,
and we shared things.
but I was a child, and a weak one at that, and
God knew I was not as strong as you so she
gave me no great suffering to speak of, to
share with you. no way to reciprocate the
vulnerability you gave, and that in
itself was suffering for me.

I regret that I was not good at saying things.
that while
you had to be your own adult and push childhood
away, I clung hopelessly to mine as
I discovered me and watched it slip
from my small hands.

among the plethora of reasons I can give for
bitterly hating sunny days is the
way the sun slanted through the window and lit
up your eyes and swilled particles around
your face like fairy dust on the day you reached
out and pulled my lanyard over your own neck.
look, you said, content. almost proud.
I'm wearing a bit of you around my
neck,
and you wove it through your
sunlit fingers, eyes bright. you tugged on it,
lightly. that's what love does, it strangles
you. and we all want it.


and I gasped at the way that word sounded,
so harsh in such beautiful sunlight on such
a soft face. but I don't want to strangle
you
. I said that. thoughtlessly,
instinctively. I regret it every day. in that regard,
you gave me a strength, but it's no german shepherd—
you are so **** strong.

when your ache tugged and tugged at you,
tore you from reality, or brought you closer to it,
it slipped its finger into that lanyard knot. loosened it.
I could have reached out right then, as you had when you
pulled the sun-soaked string over your head, and
tightened it. tightened us. been a friend.

I didn't tug the knot. if you run.
when you run,
I know that two grown dogs
will follow after you, blocked
from the sun by your receding shadow.
Shifting, sand underfoot
and the moon bent
in reflected splendor, up from the sea, and from the
tresses of your hair;

black, in that time
of dreaming.

The stars,
innumerable in their glory,
wink down at
us gently as we walk,

their mysteries
disregarded.

for in your eyes
lie the sum of
their light.
This is a draft I put together in 2016 and promptly forgot about. I've edited it some, but I'm pretty sure I've just polished it up a little, meaning intact. Figured its about time it got some air.
Tawana Chiwo Sep 2018
She was just five when it happened
Small fragile and unknowing.
They used this and used her,
They abused her and bruised her.
She was five when this happened
Small, soft and innocent.
They cursed her and misused her, and this confused her.
She was five when it happened
They pursued her and accused her,
They bemused her and this amused them.
And worst of all they were excused.
Tommy Randell Jun 2017
Used to think the world was an Orange in a black bowl -
It was a time of innocence and creativity.
Time added more fruit to my metaphor, a pomegranate, a pear -
My best friend's funeral was an Aubergine.
“That's not a fruit,” I said. Not fair. I was wrong.

My family and friends came to feed me again and again -
Peaches, Nectarines, and Strawberry goodness. Figs of wisdom.
But time ran its seasons, and innocence changed its eyes.
The world became a single blue Marble-berry in a black night – Lonely.
“Nostalgia is the taste of Childhood in a thirsty Man.”

Fruits are masquerading as Vegetables everywhere
And again and again the Bananas just sit there, ripening.
I won't. I'd rather die. Yellow is a colour that lies behind the eyes.
Google feeds me now - monochrome smoothies of knowledge.
“I pass the Turing Test every day using only a brain-pan of porridge.”

Fruit is dead of terrorism and anarchy. The more we know
The more we see sweetness and colour for what it is -
That Child in me back then he didn't understand
How just eating the Apple is a one way path down a narrowing road.
“The future presses in on every side and you cannot go forward … “

“There is all this fruit, everywhere, and no-one to tell you what to do.”

Tommy Randell 04th June 2017
I'm adding this Postscript after being asked what this 'Poem about Fruit' is really about. Well, of course it's a Poem so it doesn't have to be about anything. I would hope you find your own responses. If you want it to be about something 'clever' then of course I can give you a 'clever' answer: It is about Politics, especially here in the UK this summer 2017!
Harley Oliver Feb 2014
that familiar look in your eyes
that wakens my passion
in watching your pupils grow-
dilating into
the shape of my world

in your eyes i hide
in your shadow i find comfort
untouched by a warmth
that blends with your soul

i am weakend
by those big brown eyes
the ones that
could show me
all there is to feel &
i don't ever want to live
to see them shed a tear
Emma Hill Mar 2017
Genderless with scraped knees and
A lipstick crush on one who bore the same name as me
Uncut brown hair untouched by bleach and
Stealing kisses from my best friend while my parents lied asleep
Lying in the grass with a picture book on faeries
Listening to the wind whistle through our dying trees
Jumping on the bed with my ***** and my bubby
Giggling hand over mouth when my mother called him "hubby"
Daisy chains and he loves me nots
Unbrushed teeth beginning to rot
***** shoes and ***** shoelaces
Visiting imagined places
Pink striped socks and a skirt to mismatch
Waiting for robins eggs to fall or to hatch

O, to be a child and to live within a dream
To lie awake at ten past eight, imagination like a stream
Hashim ZK Sep 2017
Nothing beats the power, the beauty, and the purity of those two little innocent eyes that stare at you: that which cries but are not sad; that which smiles and puts your corrupted soul to shame. Its mere glimpse has you surrendered; the masks shattered. There's nothing as powerful a mirror as them. There's nothing as divine as them. Try as much as you may, you shall never defeat them, at least not for that brief period of time. It holds you captive, and you would always want to remain so, such is its power of enchantment.
I had written this a few years back on receiving the prompt. The word was 'Mask'.
Umi Dec 2017
I have been asked of how it may feel to be an Angel,
As I have been created from the soil I do not know,
But verily, I do believe it must be a life without woe

Praying would be amongst the greatest things
With innocence and all its blessings
Praising, chanting in delight, not disobeying
Only the Lord's pleasure they are displaying

They do not know of such as envy
They do not know of such as spite
They are happy, praising him with all his might

Cherishing each word which has been said (By God)
They would happily face death without being afraid,
As long as God is pleased with them,

Righteous, brilliant and with multiple wings
They don't need rest, they serve the king of the kings!
Without having made one single sin,
Shining from being made from light, deep within

Oh how much I wish I could be amongst those...

Take a look at the angels who carry the throne
Not moving an inch, not speaking a tone,
Yet they are proud, yet they wear a smile
Why ? Because it isn't their style, to be displeased with his decree

~ Umi
For my friend Will, as requested
Fiona Runs Sep 2016
she stood there on the side
blond curls bouncing with pride

Get it! Get it!
arms flung about announcing
pink shoes and blue jeans worn
with attitude of a more senior form

Get it! Get it!
before it’s too late
Get it! Get it!
the tide won’t wait

orange ball floating
being drawn in and out
as she stood there ordering
and starting to shout

a small group are playing
and arranging their roles
for a future life being
determined by personalities bold

Get it! Get it!
as blue shoes are soaked
in salty water and laughter provoked
all ends in happy joyfulness neat

but some are more happy
with their dry feet
Kate Jul 2017
It smells like first love
Says the perfume bottle
Smells like true love
Says the bath bomb

What does first love smell like?
First love smells like rain
The heavy scent of the air
Before a thunderstorm

True love smells like cookies
Baking in the background
And a rich *** of coffee
Brewing from fresh beans

And of cinnamon in hot chocolate
And lavender, like my lotion
And spice, like his deodorant

First love smells lightly of sweat
Because you're nervous
True love smells like tears
Because it's never a dry-eyed affair

It smells like the flowers
Of the wedding bouquet
And the crimson and white
Christmas flower display

First love smells like body spray
Slathered on to hide the sweat
True love smells natural
Bad breath in the morning
And yet fine
Because it's theirs.

First love turns to sweet summers' air
Vanished with August's last week
True love kisses the scents
Both foul and fair
That break upon my cheek.
ElEschew Jun 2018
Innocence lost and forgotten
Innocence did it exist once?
Innocence such a weird concept
A childhood of sit down and shut up
A childhood of being ignored
A childhood of ‘im not here to take care of you’
A childhood of taking care of herself
Teenage years with no mother
Teenage years with ****
Teenage years with suicide attempts
Teenage years spent pining for what was lost.
Every child dreams of being independant
Every child dreams of the day their parents leave
Every child wants freedom
Until
Until its in your fate
Until your alone
Until you have to figure things out
Until its 3A.M and you're crying
Until you fantasize about yelling matches
Until then you dont know what freedom costs
Dear momma,
I love you, i forgive you for the addiction, i forgive you for not feeding me, and i forgive you for beating me and my sister, i understand, i know lifes hard now and ive only been through a fraction of what you did. I love you and i always will, no one will ever take your place.
Love, your baby
Umi Mar 2018
Far on a lunatic sea, filled with tranquility and serenity, love and devotion, some flowers have made it their goal to bloom in purity,
Innocent looking, sweet and with a scent from amongst the heavens,
Tricking their foolish, mindless pray to come closer to them while seeping in spite and hatred, longing for revenge for their reflection,
A soft breeze accompanies the starlit sky, transient moonlight lurks through in a ghastly, bluish horizon as it rises to claim the heavens for his own once he had reached its fullest phase, ahh those phantoms,
Gone mad through a night full of punishment and bloodshed,
Before the petals can scatter in a dawning sky they seek for an intent,
Finally an attempt would be able to be made, a pity human draws near, weeping in sorrow and grief, causing them to shake excitedly
As then their roots would rush out of the ground and imprison him,
Twisted illusion of diversion, as they pierce through skin and bones, dragging his struggling, flailing body underground,remaining unseen
Feeding on his blood, using his corpse as a fertiliser they stay pure,
Moved for one instant, they dive deeper into the soil of this landscape
Hatred twines around them, causing disturbance in their memories,
It is alike to be left in an accelerating world of recurrance, everlasting,
Until the sunrise has dyed the sky in red and everything replicates

~ Umi
Hadiy Syakir Jun 2017
We are all
part of this folklore,
that lead us to the only door.
There is only one single war,
and we keep asking for more.

Burn the flowers,
lose count on the feathers,
veil bought and dropped,
**** all the mobs.

Bomb the tomb they said, bomb the tomb.

I might lay the wreath on the innocence
on this ill-fated day
but in near future day
we will lay the wreath on the ignorance
on one fine day.

War should've been given a miss,
But life, life is a promise.
Amarys Dejai Jul 2018
I often wish that I was still a child.
So many things change when we grow up.
Innocence becomes lost,
days become shorter,
the nighttime still scares me,
playing house becomes a game of survival,
boys become men, men become frightening,
I become sad, worried, anxious, and self-aware,
friends will lose their half of the necklace or their friendship ring,
being loved by someone will determine my worth,
I no longer feel small next to the kitchen counter,
but in the presence of everyone around me,
“Forever” loses its meaning,
everyone will eventually leave,
death is no longer a myth,
I will not smile as often as I did,
I will not cry as little as I did,
I will not feel safe in school anymore,
I will not go outside and play anymore,
I will try and pick the imperfections off of
my skin until it is red and bleeding,
**** in my stomach whenever I walk,
work myself into exhaustion,
feel overwhelmed by every task,
have anxiety attacks in public places,
and wish that I was a child again.
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