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Jack Jenkins Jun 2016
"Hey, how are you you doing?"

"I'm doing okay..."

I'm okay because I cannot describe all the different ways I'm feeling apathetic.
And I give you that smile that hides all the hairline fractures in my heart.

Every wonderful longing is swallowed alive,
I'm transcending my emotional capacity to live and love.
All my cheer is shallow and without substance,
Naught more than a cooked marshmallow:
Sweet and crisp without any nourishment.

My wretched self allows me to suffer thus.
Isolated when never alone,
Alone when in true love,
Irreversibly broken,
Choking on my frozen dust.
//On anxiety//
Donall Dempsey Aug 2018

"FIRE. . .FIRE!"

The house was busily
burning down.

"Quick. . .quick!"
Mum screeched .

"Go fetch the marshmallows!"

I dashed back
into the inferno

& emerged
long minutes later

my eyebrows ablaze
my nostril hairs slightly singed

The fire had greedily gobbled up
all the marshmallows

for itself.

"****!" said Mum.

slapping me
about the head


"I managed to save a loaf
of Mother's Pride!"
I cried.

"It will have to go!"
sighed Mum.

And so, we had
some toast
Viridian Aug 2018
I like using fire as an analogy, a metaphor, the punchline for most of my poetry

I often describe the heart as if it were a hearth, while its beats were the heat it radiated

I see it—sometimes a roaring flame, often times a steady bonfire, other times a dying match.

It could scorch you if you aren't careful, but it also provides you warmth and light. A sort of clarity. Comfort.

It allows some of the toughest things on Earth to become malleable and mold itself into something new

It turns the bitter into sweet, the biting cold to teeth-sinking warm, the tasteless into delicious

It allows the spirit to soar with columns of smoke to the heavens while the body becomes fertilizer for daisies

It takes beauty, and burns it black and ash to the point of no recognition

Fire is so precious, and dangerous, and essential, and beautiful, and ****—just like this hearth of a heart

Tended and regulated well, it's the greatest discovery of mankind

Allowed to burn out quick, or spread out of control, then it's the accident that burned down London in 1666

I believe I should end this by saying: find someone who will tend to your hearth as if it were their last dying light, instead of a person who would simply roast marshmallows with forest fires
is this the part where i say that i'm a bit burnt out?
Jon York Apr 27
We're   like   Cocoa
             and marshmallows:

                 Your   hot  and  I
              want  to  be  on top of
                   It  tastes  so  good
            because I've  been waiting
                   for  it for so long.
                                                           ­                         Jon York   2019
spacesoup Mar 10
I am ...
the marshmallow kid,
that lives
mostly in the present.

Inside locked rooms
I grab ...
whatever shows
and rolls around,

that looks,
I guess ...
so worthy of betraying
for the now.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2018
(from “A Love Song” by William Carlos Williams)


familiar that apple google and amazon
have me under 24 hour surveillance
e-specially now
as I am in their
geosphere of influence

but sending me a love poem of WCWs that isolates my locale, my intended inebriation status,
and is addressed to me personally (“you”),
that’s just creepy

so charged am I, obligated to oblige,
to counter-compose a love song of mine own,
under the pinot “influence,”
(in a manner of speaking)
which a love taught me to love

what if,
a new love song ecrit,
to an old and loverly land,
a woman-land designed to be desired,
no difference -
kissing a new girl first time,
a wet and unforgettable
when falling
on the neck of your one beloved anew renewed

now I tremble-tread
for the line of great predecessors,
“the land lover scribes”
skilled in natures homaging,
is like a line out the door,
around the corner as if
a new flavor ice cream
has just been isolated and mined and I...

but a novitiate
in a far away, wild untamed world
where my nature taken by her nature
cannot deny paying my just due:

late middle English, from self + edge

how perfect!
“an edge,
woven on a fabric during manufacture,
intended to prevent unraveling”

the pacific coast air
the irregular shoreline - expanding/receding,
god’s own forestry reserve,
the cascades, a goal on the horizon,
country roads where ancient wheat stalks grow wild
all a tonic intermingled, an alcohol to
imbibe through mouth nostrils eyes and skin

all will be my own selvage!
preventing the eastern unraveling disease,
a nearly incurable permafrost low grade
kate spaded infection,
brought along with me for decades,
my loon June companion, now stalling out,
lost from my happy head

a vineyard on every corner,
marijuana growing next door,
rivers that change like children growing up and down,
cheek to jowled property line
live the berries and the hazelnut groves,
god’s hay bales wrapped in plastic
like marshmallows dotting the landscape

all daring you to say

I could
it  here
A Love Song
William Carlos Williams, 1883 - 1963

I lie here thinking of you:—

the stain of love
is upon the world!
Yellow, yellow, yellow
it eats into the leaves,
smears with saffron
the horned branches that lean
against a smooth purple sky!
There is no light
only a honey-thick stain
that drips from leaf to leaf
and limb to limb
spoiling the colors
of the whole world—

you far off there under
the wine-red selvage of the west
Alastur Berit Sep 2018
Some people feel like a fire
I feel more like an ember
still hot enough to
if you get too close.
I can flare into a fire if the right wind
comes along, pushing me
into the sky, the kind of fire
that burns through the night
rages through forests
eats through earth
but settles down again
the kind to roast marshmallows over,
or keep a cabin warm
in winter. But
the thing about being an ember,
is the rain hurts.
Some people grow from a good soak
rising up through the earth
reaching up towards the sun
they feed, and pulse, and grow
I shrink
losing the warmth that
makes me,
soggy and steaming ash, acrid smoke
curling into the sky
gradually, until I disappear
An ember doesn't like the rain.
it's scared one day, the
rain will put it completely out.
And anyways,
who could learn to love,
something that,
at the end of the day,
after it tricks you with its warmth,
after it's kind
after it toasts
your food
its heat kisses you,
after all the effort you put into
stoking back the flames,
will still always burn you.
Amoy Mar 14
Mystical cosmic brush strokes of sprinkles,
Pink marshmallows and blue cotton candy
Left streaks across the sky, so magnificent
Each puff of cloud glowed as if kissed by a unicorn
The sun simmers softly below the horizon
painting the sky pink
Alaia Jun 7
This Texas night sky got me
full dipperin'
Tongue slippin' in the grease, frying pans on
the asphalt grit
Hot eggs n shaved legs n french fries,
moonpies and marshmallows
Good fellows, hot bellows under the bronze bull
boiling briskly
A child born in space doesn't age as fast,
lives longer,
and becomes callous to the people
"living in the dirt"
Heather's putting the clothes in the dishwasher
Yenson Sep 2018
The Marshmallows decided to have a top Party
Dressed gaily in white, pink, red, green and yellow
They mingled and floated around looking arty-farty
We're going to dance in town not partying in a garage
And guess what, We won't invite Toffee he's not like us

Go melt and burn says Toffee with rightful disdain
who wants to party with a bunch of soft silly buffoons
Overblown and presumptuous you lot melt in the rain
Nothing to you all but egging and hot air you poltroon
Who wants to dance with mixed up softies with no brains

I am Toffee hot and hard and always ready for the bite
You can't lick me in a hurry and I take a while to crack
I am brown with brawn and brains and ready to fight
Got rhythm with the moves, tastes and flavours top whack
Not some boring twirls or stumps gathered together tight

Come try me if you dare and see me squash you down flat
I'll go into you hard your softness yielding like knife on butter
Can marsh you with my strength till you're nothing but mellow
Or stick to your puffy wooly state and squeeze you still flatter
Till you beg and squeal your surrender showing you're shallow

I am not like you and don't think, see, look or taste like you
I am brown and sweet, hard and chewy and I really don't care
For emulsified vain brainless no substance marshmallow tools
Who can only be brave and big when all packed together like
So go party and kid yourselves softies I don't party with fools
Tommy Randell May 26
I want to Love you and Need you
To be the suitor that suits you
I want to believe your fate is my fate
I want us bruised at the lip, fused at the hip
I want to be the drum roll in your rock n roll heart rate

Sweeter than the wine in your summer of '69
Steeper than the high from the Park in '95
I want to place my vote in your smile of hope
I want to be the firewall written into your code

I want to savour the flavour of your laughter & tears
I want to wear you, ensnare you, be beside you down the years
I want to serve and deserve you
Be diverted and immersed in you
To be your future with no frontiers

Forget being a tick box in your list of likes
I want be the contraband in your daily life
The thing you crave when you don't know what's next
The chocolate and the caffeine, the marshmallows and the ***

Every place I've been, every perfect summer's eve
You define what my longing means
Your eyes have become the perfect tease
No day will be complete I don't try to walk a mile in your feet
Or look before you leap, or try to meet your needs

This Declaration, Here, is how I've felt all down the years
Saying it now may be unnecessary but I want it to be clear
You are to me more than a philosophy, more than a constancy
In my life you ARE - An inevitable certainty
For my Wife's Birthday
xo Dec 2018
touches of yellow
its puts me a mood
plays with my emotions
leaves me with shivers
hot chocolate is only temperately
the marshmallows disappear
that is winter
that is you
winter .
this poem speaks of how one can go through a season with a partner and that relationship will sometimes be confusing and unpleasant, the treats -love- will feel great  until you're cold again and the love disappears. #RELATIONSHIP #LOVE #COMPASSION #WINTER
Summers in Maine all have a similar rhythm and
tone — teenagers, fresh from high school’s early
morning classes, driving along miles of paved high-
way into the big city (66,000 people, barely a city
at all). We were desperate to feel independent, to
escape what we had deemed boring and mundane.
We would hurtle through the days, splayed like star-
fish on beaches with salt clumping our hair, sorting
through pocket change for enough quarters to buy a
one-scoop raspberry ice cream in a sugar cone. Not
enough sunscreen, but enough time in the sun to render
us pink and sore, patches of skin we’d poke at before
flinging ourselves back into the whirl. There was some-
thing endless in those evenings spent around fires,
slapping our legs to rid them of mosquitoes, licking
melted marshmallows from our fingertips, sandals
discarded and bare toes buried in fine silt mixed with
ash. Once we sat below the lighthouse and ate cherries,
burying the stones beneath the rosebushes around us,
and when our mouths were stained red and our hands
smelled like earth and roses, we drove on, ever looking
for a new horizon.
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