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The Red Rain of Kerala wrote this Plague
Un-supported by Evidence and Song
As it wept and bled that once-thirsty Plain
Locals knew their throats will not dry too long
But how could they drink this very strange Guilt
When their Sheets un-furled like the Flags of War
And not until the Google-Heads came in
They realised it was foreign before
Samples were taken in pursuit of Cause
Then page by page those Suspects came to light
Was it Bacteria? Or Lichens-at-Lost
Either way there was some Blood to incite.
When those Findings end, much was to conclude
Which Creation's Purchase falls upon you.
In the New Forest my Base had discovered
The Rites of Pannage those Back-Breakers do
Sows and their Cousins their Instinct recovered
Took a Year's Break from Storage and Stew
Which Proud Members chose Estovers on-edge
Then for Dessert from their Month's Turbary
A Better Concern than Motors bred at-stake,
A chance for their King to pay his Duty
So, my Conqueror, tell me that Ballad
Or must I force that Verderer to Sing
With Acorns, Truffles and all Nuts at-hand
Till he spits out the Seed which bore my Ring.
Tell you what. This Porker you just provide
I'll relish its Pudding and wear its Hide.
Salto Angel dances an Aqua-Skirt
Such Fashion pleased the Tourists below
How else can the Latin earn your Fervour
But surpass your Record of height and snow?
Funny, how her Majesty can suppress
Even more when viewing up from this Point
Like a Crone who often tries to oppress
A Revolt which a Priest failed to Anoint
And lowering my Camera, I see
The many Prizes I did Hit-and-Miss
But she roared with showers raining gently
And, enough! They saw Rainbows turn to bliss.
So I sat on a Rock to watch and live
Hoping my Partner would rise to forgive.
Francesco Bianco and his Wage-Stock Men,
In keeping current with their Rooting Age
Built his Charity on a Stone-House then
As Leisure played a better word for Rage
Not much for Surplus Capital enjoyed
At least for some Tips won by droplets fall
That petty, really. Plus some Papers browsed
For those Picklings shared by survey and toll
Yes, the Compliment of those Blue-Bloods past
Of only their Musk to commensurate
Eve bowed out; Abel only if Forecast
By Cain and his Friends allowed him too late.
You would wonder how such Time could afford
And invest your Years for such brisk Concord.
The Dragon's Blood Tree standing cross the Horn
Shedding its Bark to reveal those Red Tears
Crying for its Content and its Forlorn
Why such Organism left out its Years
Truly a Wonder did this Being adjust
Where Needed Friend Man requested its Juice
The same Crimson Drops whose Benefits must
Recycle to Dye and other Good Use
But as it thought of its Charity gave
Thinking how it could graft a New Best Friend
It remembered its Roots; Thus it re-made
Bearing Bright Flowers would last till the End.
Mama Africa smiles. You made her proud
Despite the Pirate's Threats your Leaves sing loud.
Weeping Zaire, her Bleeding Flannel blew
Over the Land this Serenity bequeath
What happened, then, to the Children you knew
Took out their Armites; And shot Mercy beneath
Salt from their Riches they greatly export
And infected your Brothers in the Dark
With Mums, Flesh-Spermed Tales of Horror consort
Lost all but their Shelled Samples in the Park
Our Dear Hands sprout! And cry to Heaven's Name
Asking the Saviour when this Madness ends
As the Radio's Red Tape is all just the same,
All just Light-Shows; But very few Amends.
These Congo Apes weep black at the Event
Not just the Brother; But Habitat meant.
Here the Anopheles Mosquito lay
Her timed seeds programmed to promote her Brood
So when I saw my Water-Cup in place
It startled me that Tension filled with Blood
But why should you be mopped in such disgrace
When the Blood you saw was all but your own?
Had it been your fault when you should save face
That your Life's Assignment Cover was blown?
This whole Area's disgusting. If you could
Try a Lamb's Digest in still water's drink
He drinks barely folly; And if you would
Allow my Shepherd to point your Destine.
Yet this same Insect bit the Shepherd's arm
Struck her with his Cane but flew without harm.
Joanna Jul 8
Watching outside, I see the sun begin to set.
Framing the horizon with a warm and misty
glow, I find myself, touched to my soul.

And as day becomes evening, I am filled
with delight, taking in an explosion of color
that will soon fade from sight.
To read more of my writings go to: http://reflectionsoflight7.wixsite.com/home
cleo Feb 2017
i don’t count aloud anymore
i can't stand to hear your name,
such a common word
it doesn't matter the context
i still go quiet every time

i used to pick up pennies, called them lucky
i remember picking up a few
on our way back to your place.
nowadays i don't give them a second glance
it's not their worth i've forgotten

they say one is the loneliest number
is that why you did it?
because you felt you’d earned it
after all this time being by yourself--
that you deserved it?
what about me,
did i?

i remember exactly what i wore that day:
short shorts, a baggy t shirt
i haven't worn those shoes since (and i so loved them)
they were these expensive purple velvet platforms;
i actually had to beg my mother to buy them for me.
"you better wear them", she warned.
that day i went home with you was
the first time i'd ever worn those shoes,
and the last
sorry mom
Kaleigh Vaughn May 2013
Your eyes smile so sweetly
Especially when your teeth are gently digging into my flesh -your evening delicacy
There's something about your love that I fancy
Your eager hands, maybe..
And the way you make me feel so **** ****
GoldenAmbitionz May 2016
You shouldn't lie to her
because if you look deep into her eyes
you can see that she clings on to every last word that you have ever said,
it's not fair to her to have to live up to the standards of me
she'll never reach those expectations.
she's trying to take possession of your heart
- trying to play my part
"Now she's calling your phone
and rolling her eyes at me
like I'm the one who did her wrong"
she knows that my love still lingers through the halls of your mind
and these facts just continue to mold her into the possessive little fein she is
JayceeJellies Feb 2018
I lost myself in you.

I tried my best to be the best, for you.

I felt a loneliness each day as I'd wait for you to say hi, until I met the ones that helped my eyes to not cry.

I slowly overcame that rope that so tightly kept me attached to my bed, to dwell in the sadness I felt. The sadness you helped to grow.

I realized that I didn't have to be the version of me that worked with you the most. I could be the best version of me for myself, and not anyone else.

That was the moment I knew we didn't fit. It was all an illusion I had created in my head. So I wished you the best, and we said goodbye, and now to you I'll be remembered as "girl number five."

If girl number five could give you any kind of advice, she would tell you to get over all five of the girls you've had in your life before looking for number six. Maybe if you do that, six will be the one that fits with you.
I'm happy without you.
Nebi Jul 2014
How did this all happen
I turned around for a split second
and this whole being an adult
decided to sneak up on me

Maybe I am easily startled
but this horror show
wasn't kidding around
leaving me defenseless

Stumbling into responsibility
almost like an accident have I learned
how to be around others
without always craving to run

Being so very used to the inbetween
I could almost taste the ways
I wanted to go, the direction
I was someday bound to take

But now being actually on the other side
I think the past is really behind me
for the first time in my life
every day is a surprise

being full of hope
once again
makes my head spin
and my dreams come alive.
Thank you to all the beautiful people that share my life. <3
Cerro Aconcagua sat on his Feet
Watching his children browse his Bones below
Either for Sport or for Samples replete
As they enjoyed the Splendour of his Brow
And how you hugged the Wind which sprayed your Frost
Then took your Role as a Giant-of-Salt
This the Rockies felt the best you can boast
Though in that Line conscience comes to halt
For what they discovered, an Inca wrapped
Possibly a Victim of Sacrifice
Flesh still worn; Of Fibres long-live sapped
For the Sky-God's Hunger he did suffice.
The only Wonder as far as I see
How Sturdy are you yet Motherly be.
The Black Cat of Killakee combs his Fur
Whilst waiting his Feed to divert his Curse:
A Tunney from him; And a Brush from her
For his Mood satisfy the Lady's Purse
Which, nay, see the Tears from his Beelzing Eyes
Oft we assume he was asking for milk
Then, drawing near, strike miser claws of ice
Yet lick your searing wounds as soft as silk
Still makes no sense, save to leave it alone
And cast the door open for its taste to leave
Cot! Fear! Disobey his Instruction bone
Then his Name's Allusion bleed your reprieve.
The Artist knew this, and Painted his Mark
At least on a Dine it knows not to Bark.
B L Mar 2013
My hands still ache –
I’m convinced it’s my atoms splitting
No one asked me how I got addicted –
They said the focus was on quitting

But I’m here in the present
So I must have a had a past
It’s too bad “Where’d you come from”
Is a question never asked.

I went through hell to get here
So it should matter where I’m from
I tell them “it should matter what I’ve seen…
It should matter what I’ve done.”
He then responded like a father and began his sentence, “Son…
It’s the shock, not the trauma, that makes the body the numb.”
He said, “The thing you search is silence.”
“And yet you let your monsters drum.”

You start to figure things out. You know --
When you’re locked up all that time.
But you learn not from what you’re taught,
Instead, you learn from what you find.
And I found mine in the written word,
I found it in a rhyme.


Numbers always helped me think, so I looked for something to count
And as I pondered that man’s words, the room’s only light went out.
So I counted the only thing that I could feel aside from air,
And his seven words made sense, as I counted the one thing
That in the dark was always there.
I’m my own favorite number, so I began counting,
“One…”
But this time I didn’t count to two.
And the monsters didn’t drum.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t rely on someone else
For the first time, in the dark, I counted on myself.
I then knew why “Where’d you come from” was never asked --
Both they and I lived in the present; we couldn’t act upon the past.
It doesn’t matter where you came from, or even why you’re here.
For your past dictates your penance, but the present is your frontier.
Bella Jun 2018
I want to write a number poem
So,

1) the number of boys I fallen in love with

2) the number of houses you lived away from me

3) the years it's been since we broke up
I know this isn't how number poems work but let's skip,
to five 5

5) the months we were together

7) the days a week I think of you

how about 12)
the month you broke up with me

21) the day you broke up with me

22) what would have been our 6 months

183) the number of days we were together

1,000,000) the number of times I've come back to you

3,159,353,015) a number I will always remember for you

∞) the amount of people I tried to replace you with

∞) the number of times I've cried over you

∞) the number of people I've dragged into this

∞) the number of poems I've written you
letters I've written you
texts I've written you

∞) the number of hours we spent on the phone

∞) The number I hold in the pit of my stomach because I know it will never be us.
The first number poem I wrote (a while ago)
Ian Johan-Gomez Mar 2016
I feel a grim satisfaction as mud splatters on my white shoes.
What an appropriate metaphor for early adulthood.

My problems are not my own.
The sociological imagination has never
seemed so applicable.
We’ve all been dosed up
On dashes of passion,
splashes of intelligence
and just enough anxiety and depression
to approach existential nihilism and
We’re fed these lies of individuality but
We Know
we are only products of our youth and culture,
ones of many in the long production line
We claim
We are Art,
but We Feel
we’re just generated from streams of code,
prepared to fight to the death for
some algorithm that doesn’t even matter
And so I protest
I can’t just be a number
I am flesh and blood,
my knees are buckling under the
weight of this artificial perfection.
I’m not just a number,
My eyes are staring at the
the marks that
determine my worth, knowing
success is my only option
i am not just a number
My sanity is sinking and
drowning and
constantly fighting to stay afloat
But I am not just a number. -
My mind tells me I’m not making it--
How are these other people making it?
I’m determining my worth
on sets of standards that are as worthy as dust
And it is with these standards i am told
I am just a number.

I feel like
I can no longer speak
because I’ve been
shouting
at the top of my lungs
I AM NOT JUST A NUMBER

But my voice
is too quiet
And the world
is too loud.

I’m so tired of trying to be heard.
Yet these words still sound better
when I scream them,
not just scrawl them down
on scraps of paper.


for someone so happy
I'm so very angry.
for someone so happy
I'm so very sad.
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
The little zero is big magic.
Count on any number in the number set.
Zero can give the heaps the giant leap,
yet no number can square it,
not even the complete set of digits.

Science trailing through the zero and one  
leads the digital age, continues to grow.
What's in a number is in the know,
but what's in a zero?

Now let’s take a trip into the matrix
without the arithmetic pill of the zero orb.
This time let it be with a poetic dose!

Should you not bask in the sun,
dipped only dew-deep,
shimmering in the sea of its deep
shadow in one little drop?
Can you touch a moon
up high, waxing lyrical  
above the billowing ocean?
Sasha Raven Mar 19
With every day, your Sundown, maybe is the last,
your life story will end, one day, in which you cast ...
Everything has its uprising and it is so sad — downfall,
sometimes you feel so tall, then again so small ...
With seven hundred and seventy-seven ways I love,
my angel, I send prayers for you, to the God above ...
With your deeds you will be closer to h**l or to heaven,
her sacred number is seven hundred and seventy-seven ...
She is always talking about that — her sacred number,
I would love to listen, all the time, but I have to slumber ...
But, before I fall into asleep, give me your — the sweetest kiss,
just want to be dreaming my dreams with blessing — bliss ...
michael cera Oct 2018
the first one's a treat,
i speak what i mean,
two gives me laughter,
i know what im after,
three gives me love,
im pure as a dove,
four is my edge,
it shows me a ledge.
five gives me trouble,
my edges are rough.
six is a number,
not nearly enough.
Every good curse
Is written in verse
   But making the victim do the work is the key...
   Close to their ear,
   So that only they hear...
Say:
   "No one will ever know it was me!"
Another birthday another year gone.
What have I done
To make my dream come true.
A brand new decorated bedroom
In May.

I  so long for my book to be published.
I long to  make the  young and old alike.
To see them laugh cry.

The years have flown by
Time cannot be wasted.
I must not be hasty.
I just need a focus
To achieve my goal.
Tommy Randell Nov 2014
Up steep streets
I repeat
In a dream
Words seen in windows
To myself
Sub-vocally

Turning right
And Northward
Left and Westwood
Checking number plates
For initial surprises
Numbers for primes

Multiplying
The number of years
By the number of days
Adding the leaps
The few left over
Beats

To arrive in the viewfinder
To stand on the edge
To look at the scene
To breathe with the light
To know finally that I am
The lens

I'm very good with numbers; Always been inside my brain
They freely shift and move about; Allowed to dance and play
However, one equation baffles and confuses me
That one plus one will equal two; This is not what I see

It's people who must be confused; Wrong value they give "one"
Because the single integer alone can't have much fun
It's only with another "one" first one will come to life
With purpose, reason, starts to smile; Now feeling satisfied

The presence of the second one gives first one happiness
When one is standing all alone life has not much to give
Can not survive a vacuum; It is dark and empty space
No digit there to interact; One's value just a waste

Some people disagree with me; Say one is fine alone
And doesn't need another one for value to be shown
I don't completely disagree but my experience
That I feel most fulfilled with life when I receive and give

The elegance of the exchange; Where miracles exist
Life's greatest gift is that of love but with it there's one twist
How it takes two to tango; Love is not a solo dance
To give another all your heart is taking a big chance

But can't compare reward to risk; The blissful ecstasy
Cause "one" is more like just a half but with love it's complete
Written: October 24, 2018

All rights reserved.
[Iambic Heptameter format]
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
October is ending soon
London is still in bloom!
Already in the winter hall
numerating in blue!
Shea Mar 15
Every time you faint
I feel a piece of me die
I love you with all my heart
And you're the only person
That I know for sure,
I love.
What did you ever do to deserve
All these diseases?
Nothing.
You've done nothing to go through this
And that's what I hate.
All you've ever done is heal
And bless other people.
So I'm sorry life never blessed you.
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