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Robin Lemmen Jul 2018
There is art
In your heart
Painting pictures
When I lay
My head down on your chest

There are songs in your eyes
Singing lullabies
When you hover
Pin me down
With your stare

There is a poem
On the tip
Of your tongue
I taste it
When I kiss you

You are tortured
Stereotyped
My jaded lover
I hear it
When you won't talk
Robin Lemmen Aug 2018
Our entire relationship I felt
like all I was doing
was waiting for you and I to break
like goodbye was only one kiss away

And when I finally started feeling
like maybe, just maybe
we would prove ourselves wrong
you left me in shambles on the floor
shards of our favorite memories
cutting deep and letting me bleed
flowers painted red

I can't seem to escape
everything feels laced
with your winter remnants
blooming a stark white contrast
to my deep dark wounds
leaving broken roses everywhere
Robin Lemmen Jul 2018
You are liquid fire
Come, sit down
Let me have a sip
I do am parched
Come, lay down
Next to me
And let me explore
Your body made of matches
I am made of pure
Burning
Golden desire
Come, take me down
We do burn so beautifully
After 2 am
In the morning light
Katlyn N Tester Feb 2015
A metaphor… love is a metaphor to everything of beauty. I found my metaphor in her arms. Her not a he and this is the things that we as human beings don’t comprehend. Love owns no gender, love owns no rules. We’ve been taught through life that there are certain kinds of people who shouldn’t be accepted when in reality we all are the same. Who I have sleeping in my bed in my arms at night owns the right to be who they are not who the world expects them to be. I found my metaphor my love. She opened a door to my heart that I thought only I had the key to when in all truth… I owned the spare she has the original. I was placed in a world where so many told me I had no place in being because my he was a she. My love owns no gender only a one person deal her name slips off of my tongue onto my pillow at night as I dream of the day I can kiss her in public and the stares will melt into a standing ovation… a day that I soon hope will come. Her heart owns mine, nothing in this world could take that from us. Only father time. We don’t know when or how we will die but I do know that I will find my peace by her side. When she dies it will be the most beautiful thing because nobody has ever died with their heart still beating… but this girl when she dies she will be alive within my chest, within this thing she calls hers. I am a girl and she is a girl but together we are the world. Society puts a warrant on the heads of the innocent who only try to find themselves in a way that they’re too simple to understand. Love is too complex these days… said nobody ever. Love is love no matter the gender no matter the *** recognition. You are who you are you love who your heart tells you to love. Changing to fit someone else’s perception of love or to be who they expect you to be is something I’ll never be able to do. I as a human being own the right to fight for something I love and believe in and that is her. I believe in her I love her I am a part of her as she is a part of me. Not even surgery could remove her from myself. We are merely two bodies with one soul and two separate minds. The problem with that is she constantly runs through mine. The world tells us that we are wrong… but something this wrong has never been so right. I’ll fight till the day I die to show the world our love through our eyes. Our love… something that no guy could supply. I have fallen for her, and fallen is a term used so loosely. This girl shoved me off the edge of a cliff only to jump as soon as she did, grabbing me by the arm rolling her sweet body underneath mine as we fell to our fate… she is my fate. It’s way too late for society to tell me that who I am who I love is something so wrong. They dispute our feelings for one another as if it’s debatable. My life is not a political meeting you cannot tell me who I can and cannot be with. Society sees it as just another “phase” I’m only here to show them that yes throughout our life’s we go through stages and phases that soon we grow out of only to find our final phase who defines us as who we are… I have found my final phase and society here is the big ******* to you because she’s the one who my final phase shall be spent with. Her touch is like no other, the way her hands slide over my body purely out of love. How she sees me in ways that I couldn’t possibly dream of seeing myself. Not only does she touch my body and make love to my body she undresses my thoughts as she watches them walk throughout my heart. She kisses the scars I’ve left on myself inside and out. The way I let society tell me who I was supposed to be, how listening to them almost destroyed me… took me to the point of no return no turning back now I have to take this wonderful weapon with a bullet in the chamber engraved with Katlyn the one who never came to know who she was in this cruel world… instead she was the gun and her heart was the bullet piercing through my mind and my soul creating the only thing that I’ve ever known. I found my metaphor in her eyes, the ones that shine so bright as they stare back into mine. I swear I can see the future through her beautiful deep brown eyes. I lose myself in them and pretend that I don’t know where I am going just to be able to stay a little longer. I long for the day when we’ll be united as one by the state and how we can declare our love to this world on paper… although it’s just a paper stating something we’ve known all along. I was born to find this girl in my life at a time where life was no longer my dreams where I had fallen to my knees begging for someone to take the knife away from me before I ended something so precious to someone I hadn’t had the chance to meet. In the same day I had taken that gun and placed it to my brains she sent me a message saying… I fell for you the first time I saw you. You tell me what you’d do… a girl you’ve had your eyes upon for so long and in your mind knowing you’d never be able to love the way that she so deserves messages you telling you that you are her future in this world… Society can let me bend over so they can press their lips to my sweet *** and kiss it firmly because this girl… this girl was born for me as I was for her. Kimberly is her name… and soon she’ll be my everlasting metaphor
Hannah thomas Apr 2016
We are evenly matched
Or so I thought
So I let down my guard
Thinking I'm alright.

But I placed my bishop
Diagonal three spaces
Perfect position to
put you in check

Realizing that
I've made a mistake
You move your knight
Two spaces forward,

one to the right
Halting my advances
Leaving only my queen
To defend the pride of her king

I defend from your every move
Until you capture her.
Leaving my king exposed
And defenseless

You marvel at it but
Are quick to place her
with the others you have
Captured and controlled

My king scurries
Space by space
Anxious to avoid
The inevitable capture

I am exhausted
Avoidance of you
is utterly impossible
So I give in

I tip over my king
in total surrender
How quick you are
to ****** it into your hands

You revel in your victory
Clinging to my king
My last piece
My last hope

But how quick you are
to discard it
How quickly you let it
tumble down onto the pile

But I forgot..

To you

This is just a game of chess
ˏˋDalPalˊˎ Sep 2014
how do you write a poem without love in it's meaning?
rarely is it ever about what they're talking about

are you being literal when you write about the tree and how rough the bark is?
or are you referring to our initials carved on the other side?
of course you are

hidden between each space in the type
the attachment to the dearest
and the gentle hearts of the unnoticed

all the indirect metaphors
and clever analogies
it's so very clear

so much power and meaning into those four letters
controlling every other emotion you feel
it is every emotion bundled up
into one poorly carved heart on pine wood

you're going to carve that tree with the greatest feeling of love every time
and it might just end with the worst feeling of love

but no matter the weather
it's going to stay there
does this make sense?
it's 4am and it just sounds very headass
Robin Lemmen Sep 2018
My favorite times with you were the ones well after twelve. Long after the clock had sung its midnight song. Eyes sticky with sleep, heavy from dreaming and the naked truth inviting. We found ourselves daring to walk into darkness. No trace of fear lingering onto our unmarked skin. It was you and me, two strangers, against the world. Together found, and for a sliver of time, happiness no longer seemed an eternity away. Love can exist for infinite times but sometimes that means not together but apart. Memories and warm hearts trapped inside the protection of a delicate glass world. Turned upside down and waking up, forgetting we ever said farewell at all. Snow starts falling, each and every time I whisper goodbye, to the ghost of our winter love. Stuck, forever, reliving memories inside the snow globe of my mind.
دema Mar 16
You gift me gold,
bringing back old habits,
remember though that
I never aimed for the stars
nor the way they shine,

I wear the gold around my neck,
with no sparkles in my eyes,
wishing it was silver instead,

you see;
gold bends and stretches,
but silver reflects and deflects,
it can handle reality,
even when things heat up.
remember that personalities shine brighter than any star
em Jan 2016
A steady minded person might tell you that everything can be measured, calculated and converted into a language of black and white, solutions worked out with sharpened pencils.

How do I measure my heart breaking?

Tell me,at what rate did my heartstrings snap when he told me he was leaving?
How long until all of my broken bones turn into dust?
Calculate at what speed the tears rolled down my checks.
How many doctors will it take to sew my heart back together?
Was it when he crumpled me up like a wasted idea etched onto a piece of notebook paper that everything started to bleed?
What part of my brain did his gentle hands touch that woke my monsters from their slumber?
How many days until this aching in my swollen chest turns into a gentle throb?
When will I be okay again?

Takes this pain and your sharpened pencils and rip the numbers from the dead hands of his name. Do away with the emotion like he did away with me.
I'm temporary.
king Oct 2018
Sometimes:
They don't rhyme
They don't have metaphors
They don't have personification
They don't have similes
They don't have idioms

                                                                       But sometimes these poems:
                                                          ­             They hit hard          
                                                                ­       They make you emotional
                                                                ­        They are the beautiful ones
Caleb Hess Aug 2018
We are slaves of our thoughts, as they bifurcate down crossroad after crossroad, as they diverge in all different directions and force us to obey, and if you must defy then prepare for the pain of cracking bones and resting your head on a cinder block to sleep at night as your brain comes up with new, insufferable ways of torture to force you back down onto your knees, making you bow down. Rebel against yourself all you want but there is no escape from the dystopian society in your head. Knowing this will only make your hunger for escape even greater for we want what we can’t have.
A good concept if you ask me. What the poem is about is pretty self explanatory.
lila Feb 21
writing words of revolutions
with the real stories
scribbled out between the lines
encased in beautiful metaphors
hidden in plain sight
1/30/2019
Robin Lemmen Jan 20
you told me this secret is ours and all I could reply, in heavy shades of blue, was - secrets are sad and lonely, so maybe it is best to forget and not dwell too long. we don't want to become etched in time for wrongful reasons.
Girard Tournesol Dec 2018
Dead Elves lay red-green vinyl metaphors
A lawn-full once happy helpful industrious
Now lifeless realities of common folk
Blown away by puffs of truth
Shane Leigh Jan 2018
This is not poetry,
and this is not heartstrings
playing sad lullabies
in the deep spaces of your mind.

This is not poetic;
this is not reading
stanza after stanza
wanting to know what's at the end.

This is not rhythmic,
nor sensual or smooth,
nor is it flowing like words should
from the tongues of those
that know which words to use.

This is simple.
These are words
that make sense
without peaking around corners
or hiding behind luscious similes
or over-used metaphors
and out of touch symbolism.

If this is not poetry,
then
I refuse to dub myself
a poet
and will continue on,
but write prose instead.
© Shane Leigh
Enjoy (:
Dirk Salimus Jul 2018
Don't get yourself a rock instead, an artifact
See dear,keep this perspective intact [ed]
It took hell-deep digging to find a unique and rare mineral
However,rocks are everywhere considered as a common material

Keep being patient,stop keeping what's not worthy of your pocket's space
Stop defying and catching everything like rocket's face
Instead,let everything move by itself and watch how it goes
And you'll learn how to stop poking your fingers on other's nose

Dig deep,dig deep,and you'll never get dissappointed
See, Everyone who has courage and endurance gets abundantly rewarded
And those who keep those pebbles had nothing but a frown
And had nothing to boast of all over the town

If you have the audacity,There is something that awaits
Without second thoughts,Love would open it's gates
And you would suddenly stop and smiled to the fact
It's not worth keeping a rock,instead keep an artifact
Rocks (People) are everywhere. Yes they are useful but not all of them are worth keeping,instead get yourself an artifact.
Misha Kroon Jun 2018
It's been one of those days,
Where I don't quite feel
Human.
Those days where my brain is elsewhere.

Like it's in the supermarket,  
And my bodies woken up in the car
Almost sure where it is.

Like I've just sat down,
And my brain's not sure where to sit.

Like I've lost track of how many drinks I've had,
But I can tell you I've been drunk 4 nights this week.
Listen I'm drunk af and I've been trying to work out how to explain the days where my brain is a little dissociative to someone that doesn't know it.
Onoma Oct 2018
in some

arise the

living metaphors

of light.

to die as the

shape

transcription has

taken.

for those who

may understand.

what a moment

means to mean.

when it's already

gone.
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