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Driving alone in the moonlight
An hour or two before dawn
Jackson Browne on the radio
Big wheels all humming along

Rounding a curve in the highway
I see deer in the road ahead
The littlest one forgot to run
I hit her and knew she was dead

The body lay still and broken
Soft unseeing eyes open wide
Kneeling I took her up in my arms
And I sobbed, and wept, and I cried

I cried for her broken body
And I wept for her stolen life
I sobbed for all the loves I've lost
Through all the years of my life
Copyright 2010 by Michael S. Simpson. All rights reserved.
PoserPersona Jun 2018
Yes, it's seemingly a nonsensical rhetorical question, but, for that precise reason, it will illustrate a lesson, if you so desire to tag along for this short session.

Per Wikipedia, "The horse (Equus ferus caballus) is one of two extant subspecies of Equus ferus. It is an odd-toed ungulate mammal belonging to the taxonomic family Equidae." Hmmm... I much prefer that the horse goes "Nay," eats hay, has a mane, and is ridden by cowboys, cowgirls, Indians, equestrians, knights, jockeys, conquistadors, Mongols, and all. Even better, just point a horse out or otherwise show a picture to a kid and they will never be mistaken again. Even the littlest ones will never be stumped when faced with a rhino, tiger, giraffe, camel, and such.

Admittedly, there is a worry that we could be fooled with that of a donkey or mule. How come no one has taken advantage of this?! What a scam to get us rich! "Duh doy," you say, cause we all know when we see a horse, so why would anyone try to trick us with an ***?! Well I ask you in turn, why does anyone try to trick us with good art versus bad, let alone art versus crap? How could anyone fall for that?!
The littlest things we dream about, that was so dear
Can be detrimental, because of modern technology
The lack of touch, the loss of sound, gone forever:
Yue Wang Yidhna Mar 2018
Some voices are silent
Because they have nothing
Meaningful to say

Some voices are silent
Because they know perfectly
Words have weight

Some of them walk away
Because they don’t understand you
And are too indifferent to try to
Anyway

But
Some of them won’t stay
Because they feel too much
To not be hurt by the smallest things
You may say

They both feel the same way
Silent, indifferent, hurtful and
Angry
So, you keep your hopes up
And pray
So, you never yield your love
And wait

But, don’t wait
A soul that will love you
Like you love them
Will also be the same

You are one that feels everything
And so every little thing hurts you
In every possible way
You are impossibly and impractically
Stubborn
You will believe something again and again
And you will love with all of you
No matter how many times you’ve been hurt

But you love in your own way
Unreserved, unyielding, loud
Yet sometimes completely
Silent

You are covered in calluses
And so are they
There are simple words
You struggle to say
And like you
They will take the littlest things
In the worse way

You are exactly the same
Yet, when you are together
You might seem universes away

If you wait
They will wait
A soul perfect for you
Might never come your way
Even if you’re right next to each other
At the same place

The mirror will only reflect what’s right in front of your face

That soul might love you for all of eternity
Till the end of time and space
But
If you wait
Their love might be words
You will never hear them say

Because, everyone wants to feel safe
And everyone wants to be loved
And not someone whose heart
Gets to be thrown away

They would rather keep quiet
Than to loudly love anyone
That they might love back
Bare and purely, with an open heart
So prone to be hurt

So, don’t wait
Love bravely with your already callous heart
Those that seem to back away
And don’t give up
The most beautiful souls will take eternity
To feel safe.
Advent Feb 8
You–I, we saw the world. The allegiance of mankind to rising of the sun. The treachery of actions to life. We shared spectacles of the remote lands atop mountains and boulders. Butterfly kisses made us weak, hushed promises and dreams made us vulnerable, and nape grabs always led your lips on mine.

You–I, we were one of a kind, self-aware, and spirited. You learned to thirst for open air and I also buried myself in your cosmos of black and white–of objectivity, ambitions, and pursuit of balance. We embraced one another’s quirks and differences.

You–I, were each other’s halves. Our souls met halfway as there were no words, definitely no words, left unsaid even through the darkest or littlest bickers we’ve had. Everything was real and translucent. We saw through each other, effortlessly. And everything wasn’t so bad.

We were us, together. With our dreams and aspirations. And as a team, we almost perfected compromise. Trying closely to weigh the good and bad banking on our values, beliefs, and priorities.

Until finally, we surrendered to our fragmented relationship and irreconcilable differences which made us grew better together and apart.

And maybe, that’s why we broke up.

―a.t.
Emma Ottinger Jun 2018
Fallow brown, like he's poured his whole soul out through the gold sieve and lies in wait to be replenished.

2. The color of the ocean. Blue, I guess, but that’s not even the half of it. All the ruggedness of the waves—forming up, breaking, and forming again like life is only the motions. Her eyes are blue, but you could hardly tell.

3. A hand-painted bowl of fresh chocolate frosting from which the most immature hands soonest get a mouthful.

4. Beautiful. Like, drop dead gorgeous. I’d dig my own grave and stick to rolling in it if she ever looked at me some type of way. Their color? I don’t know. But most of all, I dare to wonder about the bludgeoned scar between them.

5. Sturdy cobalt. Far more indicative of her steady heart than gold could ever hope to be. Still susceptible to tear, but not so easily warped by heat or stress.

6. Simply brown. No, red? It’s always been hard to tell through the fog. Truthful like the rawest earth, I’ll call her mahogany.

7. Faded blue spray paint over a slate gray wall. Forcibly muted after her years of blasting music, but there’s still that rogue twinkle to them that I pray slips through the cracks.

8. Coffee, with all the vim and vigor to make you click your heels and fall in love.

9. Unripe lime seen lazing in the shade. Not fit for a margarita just yet, but straining at the bit nonetheless.

10. Hazel, although I still don’t know what the **** that actually is. Whatever. It looks nice on her resume.

11. Green. Or were they blue? The memories of her were too wonderful, too important, that I had to let the littlest details fade away first.

12. The crystallized seafoam that made me realize I deserved to feel alive, too.
Dedicated to any pair of eyes that's ever struggled to raise itself from the sights they've grown used to.
Akshi Hargoon Feb 13
Farewell my dear friend is what I have to say;
though I wish from my heart that you could stay.
You have been an amazing friend thus far;
A true gem, a shinning star.
You have been there in the littlest of ways;
Just to show that you care always.
Here's a message from me to you;
Just remember my words are true.
The worlds your oyster as they say;
So you just go along and play.
My wish for you is all of lifes best treasures;
Coz my friend you are truly special beyond measure.
Always remain as you are;
A perfect masterpiece by far.
Viona Lauren Sep 17
if you make me believe,
every word that dripped off
like pure honey
off your lips,
had the littlest white truth hidden in it,
i would have thrown away the books in my hands,
almost slipping over the papers on the floor, running to you,
like a girl in a sunflower field,
running to meet her lover.
unfortunately (atleast for you),
it’s not the same anymore.
the words coming out of your mouth
are poisonous, vicious
lies, basic lies.
i know you’ll watch me walk away nonchalantly from you,
knowing i was your going to be your biggest loss,
and maybe,
i’ll throw a grin away at you,
a little something
for you to remember
me by.

©️ Written by Viona Lauren 2019
Donall Dempsey Dec 2018
SCATTERED DREAMS

Whenever I fell
asleep

my father came
& cupped me in his hands

carried me to bed
as if I were as precious

as water
in a hot dry land


or draped like discarded clothing
on a couch...in a garden


on a bench or a beach
I would be gathered up


& awake to find myself
back in the safety of my own bed.


And I would have thought
I had flown


or being magically
transported by a spell


but it was only the ordinary
magic of my father


cradling me in his arms
gathering up the littlest


of my scattered dreams
stroking my hair

& tip-toeing backwards
out of the room

his voice
full of tenderness


casting a spell
“Good night son...goodnight...goodnight.”
Elk Öberg Jul 2018
Flesh is stripped away in grisly ribbons,
It wraps around their mouths— suffocating.
Twisted into the red string of fate,
It ties stone crosses
To the backs of martyrs,
And crowns their skulls with poppies.
Still, the rook will crow,
And thick blood runs in opaque veils
Down the innocent’s face.

The ribbon floats back home,
Washed up on English rocks,
Where the lover, the friend, and the family member,
Allow it to curl around their littlest finger.
Their tears join the sea.
SCATTERED DREAMS

Whenever I fell
asleep

my father came
cupped me in his hands

carried me to bed

as if I were as precious
as water

in a hot dry land

or draped like discarded clothing
on a couch...in a garden on a bench or a beach

I would be
gathered up

& awake to find myself
back in the safety of my own bed.

And I would have thought
I had flown

or being magically
transported by a spell

but it was only
the ordinary

magic of my father

cradling me
in his arms

gathering up the littlest
of my scattered dreams

stroking my hair

& tip-toeing backwards
out of the room

his voice
full of tenderness

casting a spell

“Good night son...goodnight...goodnight.”
The littlest cracks bring us back,
To the places we hide within.

The knack we have for baring all we have,
And we wait for nothing in return.

Plant the flag upon our minuscule mountaintop,
Just for the wind to blow it over,
So we can practice picking it up again.

Our glass-paned hearts shatter overnight,
Thinking of the ones who we don't think think of us.
Only to be replaced every new day morning.

The mesmerizing memories pull us into the dancing trances that we couldn't bear to escape.
The fates laugh their little hearts out,
At our struggles and our lives.

But,
With every rising of the sun comes new chances to prove them wrong.
Pain fades just like that summer scar.
It never really goes away,
But becomes easier to forget.

Hang on.
Fragile hearts just so happen to be the strongest ones we have, and while they keep breaking,
We are the Olympians at gluing our lovely hearts back together again.

~Robert van Lingen

Plumbers who've never had to fix a pipe,
Won't be very good at their job.

Hearts that have never been broken,
Don't really know how to love.
Response to "One More" by Hannah Thomas
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2878138/one-more/
Because my kiss is like frequency and measure as the waves
My lips stays Plumper as a ripe cherry on a hot day
Just waiting to be kiss, in the moonlight:

The littlest things we dream about, that is so dear
Can be detrimental, because of modern technology
The lack of touch, the loss of sound, gone forever:

Shall we continued to forget the walks in the park
Making love in the dark, under the starry sky
Just to be trade in by the late nights video chatting?

Being an advocate of love, a unmasked spiritual intruder:
I enter the winging maypole of merry gestor: In my mind

because, my kiss is like frequency and measure as the waves
my opinion on the subject matter, never matters

P.S
**Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.” Dr Suess
+-
I'm in shock today
I lost my phone
___

I made mistakes
Too
I know

I
Know

I know!

Which
Makes things
So much
Worse

It wasn't even an accident
I did it all
With purpose

And I feel torn

Yesterday,
I went back to my past
Butler Elementary
School

Bobcat
A bob
Kitten

This year I've been
Searching out memories

Trying to honor them
With acceptance
With compassion
With new eyes

From there I
Write them into
Web of stars

I wrote
Yes

But I took photos
Too

No one was there
But I was still scared

I surely looked like a creep
To all the Mormon mommies

I love them all but I know they
Need to be watched
Out for

I was flood
With memories
Good, bad

Some even fantastical

Which, now as an adult,
Seems completely
Unreal

Like how could of they let
Things like that happen
To children
To me

I'm lost in the last day of school
Twelve years old and
About to
Move

Away from Salt Lake City
Away from everyone I knew
Away from all my friends

To start anew
In Heber City,
Utah

So my parents could fulfill
Their dream of living
Back on a farm

Now it's my first day
Of kindergarten
And I'm crying or

Was he crying?
One of us, Colin or I
Were crying

My identical twin and I
Were always inseparable
True then

And true especially after
They kept me in straight jacket
In the hospital

And I stopped believing
In adults

Back to my last day of school,
A dream team of 6th
Graders get to challenge the
Teachers in volleyball

An annual tradition along
With the auction fundraiser

One of the items is to shave the
Principal's head
And I won't buy it but I always
Liked watching it

Now I'm
Crying in a closet
Asked to take my wet pants
Off and put on some
Spares

Now I'm in another
Bathroom and I'm being
Punched in the gut

Over and over
I Lose my breathe
Again and again

Next thing I know I'm on top of the hill
All alone looking over Butler

A 30 year old
Human
Lost in
20 years ago

Sitting by a tennis court
That I played my
First game at
Approximately
21 years ago

I moved my car to the other side
By Butler Middle School
And the Ice Rink
I learned to
Skate
In

I take a few pictures

And very
quickly

I look both ways
And turn around
And look both ways

Again and one more
For good measure

I make sure no one
Is around
And...

I pull down
My pants

I snap three pics
Of the wolf pup
On my diaper

I am incontinent
Or at least my littlest alter is

We have:
Dissociative
Identity
Disorder

I make a post to my
little alter's private
Instagram

We have a couple thousand
Followers but who is
Counting

JK - we count

I never thought
Anyone would love him
Sweet Pea

My little alter...
So he counts each and every
Single like and cherishes them

I post the pictures on Instagram
With the caption
Let's play ball!

#caseyatbat
(Casey was my name back then)

I write another poem
Sitting on the bench
Looking over the
Four empty

Tennis courts

And when I look up
I am captivated by the pool
Where I first learned
To swim

The pool with the Olympic
Diving board

It took all of my bravery
Just for one
Jump
'
'
'
'
'
'
6^^^^^^^^6

Cannonball

I see myself in
Every jumper

Remember what it felt like
To be back
There

Big Sweet Pea
AKA: BSP cause he thinks
His name is embarrassing

He is our oldest male
little alter
#DID

He is also our main
Photographer

Quickly he captures
A video of pool
Jumper

Splash!

He makes a post to
Karl's Jr.'s Facebook page
Which is the name of
His Facebook
Page

A real clown he
Thinks himself

And next thing
I know
...
The cops are here
...
I didn't see them coming
I forgot where I was
I wasn't sure
Who I was

There are
Three of them
Here

Next thing I know I'm
Back into Big Sweet Pea

Without control
Over my alter

BSP
Is also the alter
That holds the most
Memories of my
Abuse

The abuse, some of which,
Had happened right
Here

Or right there

I'm crying
They are looking through
My phone
Now

Commenting on the pictures
They ask me why there
Are pictures of
Me in a diaper
With a wolf
On it

While
I sit on a hill
Overlooking a pool
Where a lot of young children
Are in states of undress and I'm

Taking videos
Of it

I am
Taking pictures
Of a

Public Pool
With children

And now three male
Masculine cops are looking
At three pictures of
30 year old me
In a wolf
Diaper

On the tennis court
30 meters away from there

One asks me
Why is there a video of
People in swimsuits?

What was the gender
Of the person that
Jumped?

Officer Mustache asks me

"I don't know"

I try to explain
But I'm five years old
In my head now

What can I say other than
I remembered jumping
And wanted to
Feel it again
Estelle Jan 11
I sat in the tub, shivering.  Dad had left in the middle of my bath and I had no idea where he was.  I was three and I remember every detail of this first time he left me. I remember staring at my loose littlest pet shops floating upside down in the water.  That's how I felt that day. So helpless,  alone,  scattered, floating.  Each one on their own.  I stood up and carefully tried to climb over the edge of the tub to get out and find where my dad could have gone forty minutes ago while we were having so much fun splashing around.  But as I was yelling "daddy" I slipped on the cold splash water on the ground.  My knee was scraped and I cried I cried I cried I cried of course I cried because this was the first time.  That my dad left.
Stephanie May 25
and that is why
to be fool in love
is okay... I mean...
to smile for littlest reason
and sing lalala
the cheesy lines, PDA's
that's okay

but to fool your love
is never okay,
remember: you aren't a ****.








or are you? hmm
12:12 am thoughts
Anna Patricia Sep 24
i have nothing left to say.
i will keep everything in,
– bottled up, like i always do.

i have nothing left to say.
all our cherished, beautiful dreams,
i'll let them float away upon the sea of oblivion.

towards the far horizon,
i'll quietly surrender.
out of sight, out mind, out of touch.

fading quickly while the moon rises,
i have nothing left to say.
everything comes to an end.

i want to open up and release
everything that has been tearing me apart.
but i don't want to be that person
who killed the littlest rays of sunshine left in you.
i don't ever want to take that away from you.
not now, not ever.

hence,
i have nothing left to say now.
Classy J Sep 2
Coming out of a comatose,
Running round bout to post,
That bail money, then travel past the coast.
Real survivor like a roach.
And just like a golfer it’s all about my approach.
I like to look at life positively unlike Oscar the grouch.
Got that new whip,
Spreading my message like some cool whip,
And I don’t **** with people who got the case of the loose lips,
For the moment they open up they mouth,
Imma fill it up with a couple of clips.
Bang.
Pop off a shorty in order to keep others in their lanes.
Got to think smart, like General krang.
If you don’t want to end up like Citizen Kane.
Dang.
Don’t want to end up like Citizen Kane.
Dreaming of rose buds, man this ain’t no candy land game.
Wannabe be upstarts snorting their own *******.
It’s such a shame, in fact it’s insane.
Breaking one’s back over the littlest of things.
Don’t you realize that a lot of yawl are no more than petty cliches.
Trying to keep things private, when we live in a public domain.
Truth is in this day and age, we don’t actually own anything.
Yet we feel entitled to everything.
Thinking we are owed something.
Yet we are owed nothing.
Putting on elaborate acts, but life isn’t supposed to be treated like charades.
Trying to act like your an entree, but you don’t realize that means nothing at a buffet.
You only live once, you won’t get no replay.
Thinking your free, when your really in chains.
Thinking your unique, but when you die will anyone actually remember your name?
Name.
Name.
Uh, but **** it!
When I got that new whip,
Spreading my message like some cool whip,
And I don’t **** with people who got the case of the loose lips,
For the moment they open up they mouth,
Imma fill it up with a couple of clips.
Bang.
Pop off a shorty in order to keep others in their lanes.
Got to think smart, like General krang.
If you don’t want to end up like Citizen Kane.
Dang.
- jn Nov 2018
Realize that this girl is a hurricane dressed up as a rainbow. Behind her pretty exterior she has the potential to hurt you and break you down completely.
Know that she has a way with words. She knows all the right things to say to make a girl swoon but she also knows exactly what to say to make a girl leave.
Know that she is a mess. She’s a natural disaster but she’s one of those natural disasters that are named after people because she makes an impact on every girl she meets-whether it’s negative or positive.
Understand that every pretty rainbow ultimately comes from a storm. Realize that behind all the ****** things she’s a great person. She will do the littlest things to make you happy and will try her hardest to make you smile like no tomorrow. She will value your relationship and friendship more than anything and will do anything to make sure it stays intact.
Please know that this girl needs someone who truly cares and will love her like no other. Please hold her when she’s anxious and listen to her stories about her past. Learn everything about her and never let her push you away. Fight for her through everything.
If you’re the lucky one to have her next, please never let her go.
A little angel winks from up above,
The littlest fireman in God’s domain,
Bathed in God’s Grace, covered with His love,
Untouched by earthly cares, worries, or pain.

Too soon your race was done, Devon, dear child,
Only five summers’ suns warmed your sweet face,
And yet you brought much joy for one so mild,
To all who knew your smile, felt your embrace.

Tears mark your passing in a time too brief,
We wish God had less pressing need of you,
Your family struggles now to bear their grief,
Lord, grant them peace and strength their whole lives through.

Your spirit flies now high above the sky,
Lifted by love that will not, cannot die.
From Of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems. This sonnet was written on a sympathy card to a next door neighbor and friend whose grandson tragically died in his son's property by falling into an old well. He was five years old and fervently wanted to be a fire fighter like his dad, a decorated veteran firefighter. He was buried with his dad's commendation on his chest.
Carly jo Aug 2018
Do you believe In fate
Or is everything just strung together like a series of mistakes on a thread.
I’m happy now
That’s what I keep repeating to the reflection in the mirror.
Happy.
What a stupid broad word.
This digital world we live in. Where our only memories live in our phones. Mindless.
Meanwhile we’re killing each other over our complexion.
My person asks me why I cry so much and all I respond with is why wouldn’t I.
Everything hurts and I don’t know how to bandage myself.
Am I even healing if I’m just covering it all up?
I miss writing with a pencil or a pen scribbling all my thoughts and mishaps.
Now when We feel things we post  something to covey even the littlest amount of emotion.
A picture is worth a thousand words. But what are our words worth?
Dear Sensitive Souls,
They call us emotional, fragile and weak as though these are the only words to describe us. Did they not see beyond the fact that we feel too much? that we are also empathetic and compassionate? Did they overlook all the beautiful qualities that came along with being sensitive.

So often we took our sensitivity as a curse for making us drown in an ocean of emotions. For being hurt by noticing the intricacies in people's body language, attitude and hesitations. For leaving us sore, drained at the end of the day. For making our problems look so insignificant in the eyes of others that we wouldn't even feel like opening up because if we did, word would just spill and eyes would just flood. For making us feel no one would understand the intensity of our emotions. For just letting us feel we were weak because every word, every vibe, every energy would just penetrate right through our heart leaving us to feel broken.

For making us feel so overwhelmed that it would be a struggle to get through the day. For making us face their statements and questions "Why are you so emotional?" "You're like a volcano ready to just explode" "Just toughen up" "You're such a mess". Sensitivity initially left me feeling so weak and broken for being affected so easily at the littlest of
things.

But over the years I met beautiful and kind souls who admired sensitivity as one of the rare and crucial part of humanity. Spending time with them changed my perspective about sensitivity and started to embrace it as a part of me.

The word "Sensitive" that once sounded like an insult became a compliment. The sensitivity I used to once spend my day hating became something so beautiful to me. It was when I started to embrace my sensitivity did I allow my emotions to be acknowledged, felt and be expressed.
Lexii1602 Sep 2018
ight, so i aint tryna be those girls that always look for a complament ....
im being dead *** with this **** so ....

i look in the mirror ....
i think in my head ....
'i give up!'
i try and try ....
i really do ....
you made me feel some type of way ....
i really thought you could cuff me ....
we all good on Friday ,
you feelin all up on me ,
you huggin on me ,
you walkin me to my bus ....
now today tho ....
you actin all fake ....
you barely talkin to me ....
you keepin secrets ....
like **** outta here ....
why me tho ?
im so loyal ,
i stay by you no matter what ,
ion let no *** try and take you ....
but i got my hopes up ....
& you just killed em ....
like what is it about me no one likes ....
like all these hoes getting boys on their knees beggin for them
(mostly cuh they want their **** ****** ....)
but hey !
what bout me im
loyal
i stay by you
ion take you for granted
i give you hugs
i do all that ....
what dont people like bout me ?
am i not cute enough ....
am i not thic enough ....
is it cuz i wont **** yo **** ?
like bruh  ....
please tell me ....
i just want someone who wants me for me ....
someone who will stay by me ....
someone who would tell me i look good even when i look like a *** ....
someone who will show me off to their friends ....
and hype me up on the littlest things ....
ig thats just askin too much ....
mann i just give up tho ....
i aint those girls who be askin for complements ! im just sayin what i gotta say ! ion even wants no complements from no 1 cuh i just dont so dont waist your time on trying to make me feel better .... ik you couldnt care less bout me .... thanks for reading this tho !
Angela Liyanto Dec 2018
You say you love, depriving me!
I see ten thousand lovers’ kisses,
Beside their dying babes,
O speak of their love, due, profound,
Touch the fire, with your heart.

You say you love, strangely me,
What do, the painful sleep of agony
Steep, thrusting, bled the blue in me
O wishing star, love me fair
Sting of an angel, you do to me

You say you love, clear speeches
It lives to fail with sad character,
A mossy act of false, what empty love!
With richer fondness you can cherish
My wailing heart of golden fire

You say you love, truly?
My vein bleeds a lofty care
My jealous merriment, for you
On my fixed love, it bruised my heart!
With twice nets beneath the blade

You say you love, grand cues but,
What sad cheeks you turn to me,
O show your fire - o show a littlest fire,
Which blow to deepen bliss to love
With stain, will bloom my daft heart!
Inspired by Keats

— The End —