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"retainer" poems
i haven’t worn my retainer in weeks i decided that tonight would be the night that i reacquaint my teeth with its plastic metal friend and the pain, oh the pain of my teeth being moved back into place who could have thought that bone could be swayed by a piece of plastic and who could have thought that i would still be kept awake by the thought of you i haven’t thought about you in weeks but here i lay, teeth aching and heart aching
0
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 1:41 AM UTC
retainer baby
I got braces when I was 16 that year I never kissed anyone but I made boys steal things from pricy bookstores I measure time by my teeth every year they get more crooked the older I get they seem to shift back to old territory old habits old now even smoking cigarettes feels boring when I walk into bookstores I leave sticky notes with advice I wish someone would have told me then they did but maybe if I had found it somewhere I was looking I might have paid more attention my retainer sits in a shelf collecting grime
0
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC
Retainer
We're all ingredients in the humanity stew The sad clowns The prescription abusers The chickens running around without their heads This dish can never be out done It's killing me Ashes from Pompeii The braces of teenage heart throbs ****** black and blues from abusive relationships Fill the pots and pans A homemade meal per say Chain linked sausage fences Add some Epsom salt Some beef chuck Giblets And Simonides of Ceos Daphoenus bones A dentist and a retainer Cornets, pirouettes and percocets Awkward magazine subscriptions You can buy the cookbook in all its opacity See it in the Intrepid Museum There is work to be done on Mount Olympus Therefore we should go see a movie at the drive in -Tommy Johnson
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Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
Humanity Stew
Hey it rained today Here on Rehoboth Beach I don't have much to say As I laugh at each Of the idiots on this beach Twas not just rain But a storm And unlike the norm People here claim the terrain As would a leach. One in particular Was strapped...with a baby. Above the law for sure On bath salts maybe Did run to the shore in agony. Life with no umbrella Must make one sad fella For such measures of magnitude To ruin the attitude Of everyone here on Rehoboth Beach All dem beach biddies. Yoloswagin up in here Gettin my swag on it cities And all over dat pier. Rockin dem flippy floppies Engage slomoswag Drunk on lemon poppies With my gift shop bag. Soak it up ladies The wife beater The shadies Come on over here Mmm taste that retainer Of champions! Can't contain her Sweet two ton European.
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Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 2:47 AM UTC
Money Holds Many Wonders
the webmaster has become quite the recluse he's been away without offering a viable excuse it was back in March that he fled from this egress   not issuing any of us a forwarding address on Tuesday we sent out twenty four scouts to ascertain intelligence as to his whereabouts but the search party had no good news to impart all of them were so disconsolate of heart the domain is rather down in the dumps since our webmaster pulled up his stumps we are desirous of him returning to home ground it will be such a relief knowing he's safe and sound an APB was posted on the worldwide web by Brianna Jason Trent and Kaleb    to seek out the now cloistered maintainer who's deserted his position as our house retainer
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Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 7:04 PM UTC
Retainer
late last night i got home and the skin between my nose and my upper lip was raw from your mustache and i didn't put lotion on it, which is something i would normally do and i didn't brush my teeth or put my retainer in and dental hygiene is important to me. i just walked in through my front door and sighed a deep happy sigh like the sighs you sigh for me so often. my hand smelled like your hair. and i've been taking hourlong baths lately which is something i don't normally do my room is getting more and more ***** every day and i can't find motivation to do laundry (this is so not like me) and i find myself daydreaming about you while at work and my heart starts beating. it's never had a beat before, i swear. and it's fastfastfast and hard like the way we kiss but then we slow way down and we play little games with our lips. i love smiling into your mouth because i can't help it.
0
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 8:15 AM UTC
too fast
Big Red Empty But not for long Socks Rapidly shot in Just like a basketball at the buzzer Boxers next Shoved and forgotten Undershirts crisp and white Blanket the bottom like snow Colorful shirts Folded and at attention Mimick a soldier at ready Are deployed in The warzone Long pants Almost forgotten But, not quite Athletic shorts Scrunched up Ready to jump at a moments notice Swim shorts are strewn over As a makeshift barricade between Regular and Fancy Comfortable Collared shirts Zip Unzip Another pocket IN go phone chargers! IN goes computer charger! IN goes deck of cards! As fast as the eye can see Zip Clip on The black bag of magic Toothbrushes Toothpaste Dental floss Retainer case Last but not least The most holy of holies Deodorant is Gingerly, gently slid into place All Effluvia of The Travelers Trade Zip closed
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Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC
Effluvia of the travelers trade
it’s really hard to breathe. I can’t eat anything, I’m starving and nauseous. and I wish maturity was a thing but instead, i’m stuck defending myself against cell phone applications that find you affection from someone just as infected and you already have that low of an opinion to believe these are the kinds of people I want to share my death bed with I wanted to remain friends but I don’t think that saying **** you is effective when I already have and when I did you held me above you and told me you loved me, I didn’t realize you were trying  to pull yourself up too your own reflection masked with my skin this false perception you knew you lacked within
0
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC
the last teenage heartbreak and i found my retainer.
She was a childhood friend of mine, even if quite briefly, who was the type of girl who would trap mosquitoes in her books, or put her retainer on a napkin beside her lunch tray. And she'd give me a very condescending look (one eyebrow raised, and the like) if ever I mentioned my poetry.
0
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
Cheryl-Anne
A change of scenery and a new life. An innocent beginning, as all beginnings seem to be. Still, after all these years remnants of that incipience still remain. **A new adventure Packed, moved, unloaded, emptied All but for a few** Boxes with pieces of me packed away and disregarded. Never to bask in the sun or live in all their glory. Too little too late. Like a lost retainer straining to fit shifted teeth, they no longer belong to me these bits and pieces. **Long since forgotten Secrets held within their walls Hiding shattered dreams** They had gone unnoticed for so long. Yet, the secrets of how I came to be the me before you, remain in those dusty boxes, so neatly stacked and so easily overlooked. They may no longer fit the puzzle, but they are still part of the picture adding splashes of color and bringing zeal and **Artful shading To my self-portrait painted in hues of joy and pain**
0
Jun 23, 2010
Jun 23, 2010 at 10:53 PM UTC
Bits and Pieces (a Haibun)
teeth shouldn't lie on pavement and blood shouldn't run down your face and as i dragged myself along the side of the road i thought to myself *this is the lowest moment of my life* flat on my back staring into the 12 o'clock high sun and sobbing *i wanted to die before this moment but now it's only reinforced cemented in place that in fact i can't do anything right* some wise woman supposed sage of ages once told my mother that for every great emotion a person needs a physical container to put it in but what should one do when their container has always been a retainer that now doesn't fit? hit where it hurts most my mouth years spent suffering so i can wake up every morning with a fresh twenty dollar smile and now that's all gone i suppose maybe i'm vain or maybe i'm dumb but the smile makes the woman and mine is looking like i'm not so human penny for my thoughts? i'd give a lifetime of change jars to get back my perfect teeth
0
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 10:23 PM UTC
we're all one broken tooth away from looking like we work at walmart
A bleeding heart will fill up fast and I am sooner drowning in myself
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Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
Retainer
The little boy Growing into his own shoes, His very own big boy pants too! He has premature features that remind me of someone... someone... But who? A sincere childish smile with Protruding teeth that melts any passerby What about his popping belly? To rub, To feel during his hugs, To love love love! It really does remind me of someone... But let me tell you about his nails How they always seem to be just too long Or the way he blushes when he's caught singing a song Silly little boy with nails too long, soft fingers, and growing hands He might tuck them in his pants The way Daddy does Girl crushes and science tests and soon Those big boy pants will walk him out to middle school His charming retainer lisp will soon fade away And remind me more of Dad everyday They share a name My dad's pride and joy He's his mold, his little boy The way he reads, even holds his posture And all the little things just like his father
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Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
Little Knacks
curled up down the end of the bed where loose feet hang, comfort purrs, doused, incontent. easy game. so i sleep a little more: outside, everything will churn continually in cyclic tone, oil-slick, patterns always look the same. further out, little is left but the low rush of breaking wavelets over shallowing stone retainer walls kept, keeping the weight of this inestimable machine on track. breathe stale air, smile, the skyline accumulates; handfuls of grey at a time.
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Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC
six
I've got this poem, it's most astounding. It's big and juicy like the best grilled steak. I've pushed the publish, more times than i'd liked. This sites full of holes, imperfections like freaks. Unlike yours this one is defined. It didn't need self diagnosis or shrink on retainer. For this poem was just too immense. A fix for this would be a no-brainer. Full of imagery not fit for your eyes. This gateway it did not fit. A warning for all freaks. 502 - Its really really ****
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Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 8:47 PM UTC
502 gateway
you serenaded a soul with words my ears have never comprehended, overused the concept of love, wringing the word out until it was left dry, there was a hope in me that the author in you would display himself for me as well, that your stanzas correlated to the feeling between us. i was searching for the words in your mouth, my hands sinking in like a dentist on a mission, hoping to pry out the sudden surprise of a few letters from between your teeth, something to make me feel like there were still things to discovered, that you were not going to be like the others, but everything fit wrong, like when i had not worn my retainer in a week.
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May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 12:15 AM UTC
teeth
my retainer broke and i held it in my hand my nails were ***** because we were at camp it was red plastic despite tasting like metal and you were there, we walked into a boat abandoned in the dry sand piled high i kept seeing flies and i felt my heart it was enormous and i couldn't stand you made a face to show that you felt the same when i told you about my fear of them, and i made a face when you said you'd forgotten to let me know, that in seven weeks it would be goodbye, and you were leaving for the empty deserts of California i thought about the days and how to tell you that i loved you, that i loved you, here, that goodbye was all i had and all i could give because my mouth was full from all the camp food and the darkness you had chased away you told me to sit by you later when we watched the symphony play when i woke up i couldn't shake the feeling that you had died
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Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
thank god we aren't asleep
the brilliance of the darkness served only to annunciate the loudness of the passing silence While the pervasiveness of the defeated idea continues to occur in self-[a.s.s].embly lines The nano utilizes a scope of micro to flesh out the macro Simultaneous non-being duly correlates to the emptiness of the tao’s pot-shaped,quantum hat Possibility is endless, until you enlist knowledge as your retainer The origin of all particular things is lost through the knower being zenly slapped, I just would have loved to help schroedinger's cat pur......... what a ***** he wouldn’t even open the box to check her. Dear ∞ this is my letter to you while I let her be bound in quite comfortably in lazer-light leather.
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Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
Non-nano Being
1am you knock at my door i open it, standing there in my oversized tshirt and my hair done in braids i let you in you have a new speaker you're so excited you apologize because your retainer is still in your mouth and your hair looks like you haven't brushed it and i don't know how to tell you that you are the most beautiful person i have ever seen you ask me for music preference but i say whatever you want because you are my melody and i could dance to you all night long you climb on my roommate's bed and sit there because she's out of town and i get in bed we sit in silence you with your retainer and me with my glasses we're listening to indie music and laughing saying maybe today the world isn't so ****** and this bass is just so **** perfect and we're not lovers we're just friends and that is so much better than anything i could ask for you ask me how we are so perfect together and i tell you that it is because your presence feels so much like home to me it gets later in the night and you're falling asleep we talk about your dreams you want to return to cape town and become someone dedicated to service and love and i don't know how to tell you that you are so perfect to me and i love the way you hold yourself and always strive to be someone better, stronger, greater we're listening to songs in languages i don't speak but gosh your eyes light up when we speak of the fields and the ceremonies you feel like you belong there and i feel like i would like to be somewhere near you so that after you're done saving the world for the day you can come lie next to me and we can listen to indie songs until we fall asleep.
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Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
this is what dreams are made of
1am you knock at my door i open it, standing there in my oversized tshirt and my hair done in braids i let you in you have a new speaker you're so excited you apologize because your retainer is still in your mouth and your hair looks like you haven't brushed it and i don't know how to tell you that you are the most beautiful person i have ever seen you ask me for music preference but i say whatever you want because you are my melody and i could dance to you all night long you climb on my roommate's bed and sit there because she's out of town and i get in bed we sit in silence you with your retainer and me with my glasses we're listening to indie music and laughing saying maybe today the world isn't so ****** and this bass is just so **** perfect and we're not lovers we're just friends and that is so much better than anything i could ask for you ask me how we are so perfect together and i tell you that it is because your presence feels so much like home to me it gets later in the night and you're falling asleep we talk about your dreams you want to return to cape town and become someone dedicated to service and love and i don't know how to tell you that you are so perfect to me and i love the way you hold yourself and always strive to be someone better, stronger, greater we're listening to songs in languages i don't speak but gosh your eyes light up when we speak of the fields and the ceremonies you feel like you belong there and i feel like i would like to be somewhere near you so that after you're done saving the world for the day you can come lie next to me and we can listen to indie songs until we fall asleep.
Continue reading...
79
The first time I can remember writing a poem was in 3rd grade. We wrote haikus about springtime and when we had 4 we sewed the paper together with pink yarn and gave it to our mothers for valentine's day. The first poem that I read was about friendship.I didn't like it.The first poem that touched me was about suicide. It talked about pretty elfin faces turned up to the light and how when the blood splattered it looked like a rose a bouquet of flowers between her legs she said no he said yes, more. The thing was I thought that pulling a trigger on yourself was beautiful. I had this image of a skinny girl in a white dress leaning over a toilet letting all the bad pour out of her pink lips. thought that carving his name into your stomach fat was meaningful and that scars were a thing to be proud of. I thought that only eating celery and working out until you fainted was cinematic. The reality is that the blood splattered because the bullet cut a dime sized hole in the back of her mouth and came out where her ponytail would have been. The pressure shattered her larynx and lodged pieces of bone, teeth, and cartilage in the surrounding skin. Her tongue was torn to shreds and her metal retainer melted into her gums. There weren't flowers between her legs, there wasn't even a condom. She never said no but she never said yes. They were in love and wanted to be together but she didn't want him. She pretended she enjoyed it and cried in the bathroom when he fell asleep. When you zoom into the picture of the bulimic girl in a white dress you will see that she isn't a teenager she's 40 but she still looks like a child. Starvation prevented her bones from growing. Her lips are chapped and she has sores lining her gums, burst blood vessels in both eyes. Her hair is long but thin and dry and her eyelashes had fallen out and never grown back. She is kneeling over her daughter who offered to pay for rehab's toilet because she ate too much during thanksgiving. She bruises easily and the purple isn't the color of a night sky it is the color of deoxygenated blood vessels popping under her skin and congealing like fat on a turkey. Carving your name into your rolls doesn't make him come back to you, it prevents you from ever wearing a bikini. Stop making self harm and mental disorders seem beautiful and romantic, because there is nothing beautiful about having to bury your only child because he forgot to eat and used the razors one too many times.
0
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
Spoken word 1
The first time I can remember writing a poem was in 3rd grade. We wrote haikus about springtime and when we had 4 we sewed the paper together with pink yarn and gave it to our mothers for valentine's day. The first poem that I read was about friendship.I didn't like it.The first poem that touched me was about suicide. It talked about pretty elfin faces turned up to the light and how when the blood splattered it looked like a rose a bouquet of flowers between her legs she said no he said yes, more. The thing was I thought that pulling a trigger on yourself was beautiful. I had this image of a skinny girl in a white dress leaning over a toilet letting all the bad pour out of her pink lips. thought that carving his name into your stomach fat was meaningful and that scars were a thing to be proud of. I thought that only eating celery and working out until you fainted was cinematic. The reality is that the blood splattered because the bullet cut a dime sized hole in the back of her mouth and came out where her ponytail would have been. The pressure shattered her larynx and lodged pieces of bone, teeth, and cartilage in the surrounding skin. Her tongue was torn to shreds and her metal retainer melted into her gums. There weren't flowers between her legs, there wasn't even a condom. She never said no but she never said yes. They were in love and wanted to be together but she didn't want him. She pretended she enjoyed it and cried in the bathroom when he fell asleep. When you zoom into the picture of the bulimic girl in a white dress you will see that she isn't a teenager she's 40 but she still looks like a child. Starvation prevented her bones from growing. Her lips are chapped and she has sores lining her gums, burst blood vessels in both eyes. Her hair is long but thin and dry and her eyelashes had fallen out and never grown back. She is kneeling over her daughter who offered to pay for rehab's toilet because she ate too much during thanksgiving. She bruises easily and the purple isn't the color of a night sky it is the color of deoxygenated blood vessels popping under her skin and congealing like fat on a turkey. Carving your name into your rolls doesn't make him come back to you, it prevents you from ever wearing a bikini. Stop making self harm and mental disorders seem beautiful and romantic, because there is nothing beautiful about having to bury your only child because he forgot to eat and used the razors one too many times.
Continue reading...
1
You cause hurt like my retainer. My mouth has no taste since we never laid a hand upon the other. But you caused sleepless nights, anxiety attacks worse than the others. I listen to sad songs since you hated all of those. I need to face you in person, but to do that I have to look into your dark eyes and make you cry.
0
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
Dark Eyes
I like the way teeth are when they don't fit together Overcrowded and coffee stained I didn't want a string of pearls Or an assembly line of bleached profits Much to my dismay I was blessed with metal wires chaining my freedom down. Two years and a mouth full of venom later they were stripped from my bones and left the enamel screaming. "Now, wear your retainer" mother says But the wiser me decides that my teeth were never meant to be straight just as my crooked mind is going straight to hell And I like the way my best friend says my name with her tongue protruding her unaltered grin How the 'S' sounds like a  sly snake stealing from the thrift store on the busiest corner in town The way my heart stings as if I've been bitten I am Medusa I try to convince myself I cannot turn myself to stone But there I freeze as the alarms ring
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Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 2:29 AM UTC
Crook(ed)
A \\\* of earl grey             -- Clay container (3) Is the \\\\\*, they say,       -- Inclined lea (5) From unrighteous \\\*     -- Turf retainer (3) To the hand of \\\*.          -- Deity (3)
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Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
Censored Crossword Clues
I am so Boring That… Morpheus takes my correspondence course I teach the House of Lords how to induce snores I make strong men yawn with my tired metaphors I am on retainer with all the best sleep clinics I am the reason the grooms in Macbeth slept Hypnos and Nix envy me and my skills Rip Van Winkle was wonked out by my rhymes My verses make for Odin’s yearly sleep I wield my Sword of Soporificity And the condemned oversleep their executions Look upon my cliches’, ye mighty, and despair, hahahahahaha…!
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Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 5:15 PM UTC
A Response to the Exciting ConnectHook
there is a thin layer of grease over everything that i touch yet the skin over my knuckles is dry and red lips cracked i try and try and try but never manage to be enough maybe they put hate in the cleaner i soak my retainer in because i feel it every time my teeth clench i know your name your order your lunchtime nuances about your dogs grandchildren your job and house little useless details about what makes everyone in this town who they are but you don't know me and neither do i
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Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
details