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Daisy Marrow Apr 2014
We were once kids.
We were once wild.
We were once soldiers.
In the dead of winter, you greeted death.
You fell from my grip and into the darkness,
and now a hundred years have rotted away and I have never felt so alone.
I ran from the winter because war was to attached to it.
I close my eyes and I see you there on the front line.
Young and drained, you were just a body rotting away.
Full of life so you hung on with everything you had.
bang
bang
It was such an awful sound.
Only if I had taken your place.
If only you would have run the other way.
Just how unfair is our luck.

Someday I'll teach myself to learn and live alone.
I'll teach myself that death was not the enemy.
But the winter storm rages on and I'm still having trouble breathing.
Don't be alarmed.
I march on.
Like the soldier I once was.
Don't be alarmed.
I've seen many winter storms
and I have miraculously survived them all.

Can't you see that I don't want to move on?
Don't bring tomorrow because I can't take another.
My eyes are too fogged to see the light.
My minds too cluttered to think right.
I've tasted my own tears
and faced all my fears.
So here I am.
Laying on the floor.
So here we are.
Together once more.
Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes
Captain America: The Winter Soldier
MeanAileen Dec 2017
Oh how I hate
this time of year,
with the ****** songs
and holiday cheer...
Annoying bell ringers
outside the store,
and the tacky wreaths
hanging on the door.
Cardboard calendars
filled with waxy treats,
ice and snow making
death traps of streets.
Frazzled parents
spending more then they should
on ungrateful kids
who are far from good.
Fake smiles & wishes
in the "spirit" of it all,
the bloated prices-
the crowds at the mall.
The hour long line
to see Santa the phony
who falsely promises
an x-box or a pony.
Having to gather
with family who annoy,
gifting another cheap
Chinese-made toy.
Fire hazards
strung with tinsel and lights,
tensions leading
to fun Christmas fights!
Secret Santas-
holiday parties for work-
**** sweaters
making you look like a ****.
The stress of having
an enormous shopping list
and a tiny budget
just makes me ******!
No, nothing seems jolly
or merry or bright...
Oh how I can't wait
till post-Christmas night!
My ode to the holidays!!
And no, I'm not a TOTAL Grinch, I just play one in November and December!!
Daisy Marrow Aug 2013
Pick yourself up and dust off your shoulders
because you're a soldier and have no time to rest.
You can't escape this life because you sold your soul for this
and in the next year, you'll be buried right under your feet, six feet deep.

Will it be your ****?
******* alone surrounded by nothing but chains
for years and years.
Calling out to empty shadows and swallowing dust over these times.

Will it be your heaven?
In the summer of ninety-six
with the night lite up with fireworks on the fourth.
Chasing the sparks because you're a child again.

Pick your feet up and march to the drums of your family.
You promised to always protect your family
and this is all you know to do.
Giving up your life for your brother's
is what you were trained to do.

Your heart is weak but warm.
But you will not be needing it for long.
You find peace in the night
but always keep a candle lit,
to keep an eye on your brother
because he is all there is.

Things can't be rewritten or reversed.
You've just got a confused mind
and acted out of grief.
But you're always able to rewind to the night
a bullet took your brother.

These lifeforms made a deal for you, that they knew you'd take.
They could care less about your feelings.
They could **** without warning,
but you trust them with your brother's life on this one.

So now you stand a man with a deal to die
but it's all worth it because now your brother can live.
Selling your life so he can have his back was the best birthday present
you could give.
Supernatural
Dean Winchester
Savanna Jun 2013
I think there are some things
Of which a child should not be warned

Why place in them a mortal fear
That they need not yet learn

I remember the summer vacations
Spent at the ocean's side

Where I danced, splashed and dove
Never once thinking that it was cold

Now I return to the beach
And long for the good old fun

But I am held back
By the fear of believing it's too cold

I yearn to start over
To learn again in time

To live without fear
Of the small things that ruin me now

I want to run barefoot through the grass
But I can't let myself do so

I know too much
Of the dangers that may hide

These fears I have are often of situations
That probably won't happen

Yet I can't bring myself past
What I've been told that I now know

So don't ruin the kids
Let their wonder take control

Keep the world magical
Keep the fears at bay
ogdiddynash Jul 2018
helping the kids with homework


no one told you,
was part of the job description
paycheck earner a-ok,
gruff but tender lover,
knowing her special places,
building a tree swing,
a tree house safe and satisfactory,
one the neighbors envy

taking them to the hospital for
broken arms and chemotherapy,
part two of the non-routine but a very possible foreseeable,
going to school to give that principal a look
that will make him think twice before suspending
one of his for defending himself

you remember your daddy doing the same for you,
forgetting to repeat the tar and hiding that came later

the tucking in, the pretense ouch
when your end of day
scratchy beard ruffling the skin of babies,
carrying tissues in a toolbox,
never heard of, nevertheless done,
tho not a memory defining the future inclusive,
definitely a learning ability, a likeability

doing homework, nuh uh,
no way jose, don’t dare let them
know how you never got a gold star,
always sat in the back row, outta sight,
all day dreaming, chemistry rhymes with mystery,
and poetry is rhymes needing a big vocabulary
which means lots of words for a man who don’t talk much

ain’t exactly his strong suit

sure, heard of Shakespeare but never met him,
know where the on/off computer button hides,
the rest is up to them;
got no email address, but taught them sir and ma’am,
how to address humans with respect,

i’ll promise them anything
but not doing any homework,
unless it the kind that that makes

a home work
#homework
Leigh May 2015
The tide collects it all by morning;
The drama and the ***** napalmed across the path.
The scenes at second warning for most had been swept away
Before they wiped the sand from their shoes.

Empty cans of Dutch and Tuborg slouched on the dunes
Are tight-lipped about the Velvet Strand's secret ecosystem;
An underground microcosm;
A peripheral cluster of seething emotions drowned.

Memories of those years - although some expired,
The vestiges take pride of place - hold a cosmic clump of smells,
Tastes, firsts, goosebumps, hangovers, and ends.
I never before understood what I was holding on to.

Winters down in the shelters nearly killed us but we
Huddled through the cold, lit cheap firelogs and
Found our oblivion. It didn't take much for me to develop  
A stagger - tolerance for a lot of things was learned later.

I narrowly recall my first taste of poor judgement and
Hazy-headed stargazing. Six cans of Stonehouse
Dry cider - most of which ended up on the hillside -
Was a ridiculous endeavour that will always be sublime.

At the heart of it, I did it to impress a girl;
The one every boy has or has had that sticks;
Who holds your firsts and your hands and makes
Things simple if only for her complexity;

The one that never fails to bring upon digression when
Pens are involved. Revisiting reminiscence on a jarring note,
I think of my Junior Cert exams and a cross-dressed man
Exposing himself to two uniformed boys behind the public toilets.

This one doesn't stir the joy of the others.
This one I wish would dissolve;
An ****, awkward blotch on a childhood.

Luckily fondness trumps disgust when recalling that place
Because of sunrises and sunsets absorbed from the roof.
The Summers spent jumping the gap and drowning in the
Heat of the sun were everything.

The fugitive sand between our toes and under finger nails
Became an accepted nuisance, a part of the territory;
A lingering grain or two to drag you back.
I miss waking up with the smell of last night's faded fire.
.


Some weird and wonderful memories of my teenage years.

100 points if you catch the Derek Mahon reference.


.
Paul Hansford May 2016
These were written by 8-year-old kids in a class I used to teach. They are simply syllable-counted  - 1 2 3 4 5 4 3 2 1 - and don't have the extra requirements of so-called "diamante" poems.  You will notice that the line breaks are all in natural places, and don't split phrases.

- - THE RACE - -
          Here
        we are
      on the line
    ready to run.
Starter lifts his gun
    high in the air -
    On your marks…
        Get set…
         Bang!

RUNNING A BATH
           Put
        the plug
      in the hole;
    turn on the tap.
Cold water in first,
   hot water next.
      It's ready.
     Now jump
            in.
Allesha Eman Mar 2018
Somewhere in the sea of turquoise
I was lost in a boat made of my dreams
If you ever wanted to find me
Then I’d be hiding in the hollow shadows of the free

I’d be in the smile of a survivor
The tears of a lover
The hopes of a dreamer
Maybe even in the lies of a believer

Somewhere by the rattling earth
Or floating in the seven seas
But I’ll be where love goes
When you’ll be looking for me

So if you ever try to find me
I’ll be in the places you’ll never see
The places where your eyes will miss
But your heart will be set free

I’ll be in your laugh
Or maybe in your dreams
Where ever I am just know
Somewhere in the hollow shadows
I’m waiting to be seen
Kiara Malig Jun 2018
Fun facts about me,
Let’s see
One
Anxiety has found a companion in me
Two
My hands sweat all the time, and I can’t control the way I feel
Three
I’m a straight A student who never was sure that straight’s a word in the dictionary
Four
I don’t like people for no reason at all
Five
My head’s messed up with all these deadlines I seem to have missed
Six
I loathe myself
Seven
I’m scared of being forgotten and it keeps me up
Eight
I have trouble sleeping because when I close my eyes, I imagine heaven
And I know it isn’t real, because I’m not meant to be there
Nine
I like arguing about my beliefs but I still feel anxious every time I speak up
Ten
I can’t comprehend everything at once, and it all blows up,
And then the next thing I know, I’m having a panic attack

All those things I’ve just stated are true,
But then again there’s a thin line of what is the truth and what people believe is the truth.
So I don’t know what’s the purpose of gloating.
My feelings apparently aren’t valid enough for people,
They say, I’m too young to feel these things,
They say, I’m in my early years so why not enjoy it.
You see, the problem is I can’t.
No matter how much I try to lull myself into this dream, I can’t bring myself to.
You see, my thoughts have now taken ownership,
They’ve spiralled into something more than a 13-year-old can even understand.
They say I’m not supposed to feel this way,
But what am I supposed to do,
When I feel the walls caving in?
What am I supposed to do,
When I’m stuck on an island and the only fish I can find is the one in my own bloodstream?
I’m tired.
I’m so tired of always feeling this way,
I don’t want to be me anymore,
But that’s not how it works,
Things like these never go away,
They just escalate,
And I let the weeds grow.
I let them because there’s nothing else to do.
Until there’s none of me left to actually consider,
Until all there is are the weeds I forced myself to plant inside me,
Until I don’t remember my own name.
It doesn’t matter anyways, I’m too young to know what it feels like to be saved

When someone at the table talks about how mental problems are just illusions and how teens are just using them as ways to get popular,
I bite down on my tongue so hard, I can ******* own blood.
I don’t say anything,
Because I’m just a kid,
What the **** do I know?
September Roses May 2018
Once we were on fire
Young    rebeliouse   free
We stormed the castles and took to the skies we flew we dreamed
We were ablaze our light setting raging screaming fire to the world around us
When our thoughts could not sit in silence any longer
When the kids were engulfed by a wave of fury of the injustice done by this world before we were even here
We screamed and demanded
OUR VOICES WOULD BE HEARD
But now it rains
Now the cold heavy water blankets the restless
The fire has been drenched in worry and stress
The brutal downpour has distracted all with false life or death
The blaze once 100 feet high now nothing but a charred soul

And all the ones put out by the rain
to tired to fight again,
pray on the generation next
That their fire is enough to best the storm
Paul Hansford Aug 2017
The ground is covered with snow.
   There is ice on all the plants
      like stone flowers.
                                                (by Darren)

The frost is cold.
   Spiky blades of grass
       crackle under your feet.
                                                  (by Peter)

The sky is black,
   the moon shines on the ice,
      the ice is silver.
                                                    (by Sarah)
OK, they didn't count the syllables, but could you say they aren't good poetry?  And since they are about the season, we'd be justified to call them "modern haiku".
Paul Hansford Aug 2017
The rain makes everything fresh,
   the plants and the grass are like gold,
      the air is sparkling with joy
                                                           (by Sharon)

The rain is coming down.
   Look outside, everything is wet.
      The leaves glitter with the rain on them.
                                                           (by Tracey)

Rain makes the roof top wet,
   the grass is all wet and soggy,
      and mum cannot do the washing.
                                                        ­    (by Lee)
Samuel Hoffmann Jul 2018
It was just perfect,
Not knowing;
but not needing to know either.

Everything was peaceful,
Everything was pretty,
Everything was perfect.

You'd have fun,
And you had friends,
There was family,
And it was fabulous.

There were no problems,
No fights,
No bullies,
No real fears.

Just you,
And your stuffed elephant,
Against the monsters under the bed,
--And your siblings.

Life, life was awesome.
And then we grew up.
And despite's what everyone said,
And what everyone thought,
And how everyone acted,
And how everyone treated us.
I still think life is awesome.
oceans by Seafret <- great song :)
Donna Aug 2018
My kids have grown so
fast there off venturing the
big awkward flat world

With there partners they
walk hand in hand , and I and
my love are letting

them go one by one
Tis a new phase for me and
my love as well , as

we spend more time with
each other , life is slowing
down at an easy

pace and we get to
watch our favourite programmes and
eat our favourite food

Stock up on lots of
sweets , treat ourselfs to nice clothes
have more time to paint

and decorate our
house , yes it's still noisy and
loud but we love it

Even though our kids
still live at home , we can see
there wings are spreading

One day we shall be
grandparents somethink we both
are looking forward

to , but for now we
too hold hands as we both walk
together smiling
<3 **
Time flys by so fast I can remember when all my lot where little seems like only yesterday ** enjoy every moment with your kids cause they grow up so fast xxxz
grace snoddy Dec 2017
in the light of pure adolescence;
we see.
and in the air of willful disobedience;
we breathe.
our actions fuel off of the energy
of the violent sunsets.
and we find our individual tranquility
in the nights in which we wander.
not only do we wander, but we wonder.

the playful range of shades the sky possesses
makes us wonder and wander.
looking past on the identities
we were told to portray,
we create our own full of
vibrancy and reason.
this identity gives us a powerful passion
that thrives off of the rays of the sun.
a passion that gives us the motivation to
continue on this messy road of colors.
to continue on our ephemeral yet indelible
adventures throughout the course of life.
Steve Page Sep 2018
The forest of legs swayed in the moving shadows beneath the chatter over head, each threatening to block our path and crush our attempt to get to the first fallen crisps of the party season, which as yet laid undisturbed.

We weaved and advanced as fast as their legs allowed, eager to scavenge the waiting bounty before they were trampled underfoot by the oblivious adults who were intent on a seasonal ritual of their own that went on high over our heads.

We emerged unscathed at the edge of the forest and raced across the open parquet to the cover of the drapped, white topped trestle tables catching our breaths and crunching our snatched crisps planning our next move toward the plateau above.

Our scout had reported rich pickings, but when we looked around, seeking signs of our brave advance party, we could find no trace beyond a half eaten volovant and what might have been regurgitated mushroom. We shook our heads in despair at their folly. Every kid knows to stick to crisps and to processed meats, avoiding anything that might contain vegetables. We saw an open French window just beyond the trestles and heard plaintive heaves that had a distinct 6 year old strain.

We checked each other's resolve and saw on each other's faces that we believed our mission was more important than any one stomach. With a maturity that would have surprised our parents, we pushed the plight of our friend to the back of our minds and focused on the task at hand.

We each reached up with practiced stealth, taking only a second to check the food on offer and with a speed bred into us by the curse of older siblings, we each grabbed our prize.

Acknowledging the hazards of the return journey we devoured the meat at hand and with hyena grins savoured our just rewards. While our fallen friend heaved once more, we saluted one another: the season had started better than any of us could have hoped.
With thanks to Poetry Journal for the inspiration. And, yes, I acknowledge it's not poetic.  But it was fun to write.
KM Hanslik Dec 2018
Almost everybody wants to be here;
I don't know if it's
the drugs or the choice in music,
but it's hard not to feel calm with your
big-voice-gotta-laugh-thing going on,
or someone else talking a mile a minute about
the best ways to **** time in the suburbs.
At least one night this week, it kind of feels like we've got it going for us.
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