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Keira Jun 10
I still remember
third grade.
When poetry was made
of rhymes...
Oh, the good times.

We were taught the sun
was a happy thing
and we would sit on a swing
smiling at its wonder,
unable to wait for summer.

And I know while
the sun's wonder
does indeed bring summer,
it also gives way to thunder
and rain.

Now that I'm older
poems have grown colder
and I know sorrows
are not conveyed
in rhymes.
Emma jean Dec 2018
Our youth is ending,
   Ginger beer and snickers bars swapped        for cheap ***** and cold laughs
                Drip drip, the bottle spills
           Drip drip our limbs spread out
    A harmony held high over our heads
We swim down stream
   Our stomachs to the sky
    All scales and notes and melodies
A song composed in an series of summers
  A song sung through the rocks, our finger     tips glow
        Stinging,
                 slipping,
                      stuttering
A stutter, a song stuck in motion
    An unspoken emotion, stays behind
All I want is to be back at the creek, with you, loving me
In our fall we were wild and wise
And reason was worn to our childish eyes
But that season has quickly come to pass
And a bitter wind now shakes the grass.
I have a blanket to wrap you in
Let the sun sleep, and the world not spin
Place your heart now on my pillow
Wrapped in the roots of this weathered willow
Wonder up into its rustling leaves
And rest your head on times simpler than these.
2 million way to go                                green.
0 number of people we want to

Die for a reason we can        easily fix.
Only time will tell, but in this
Late hour, please explain to me,                  What is time?
Longing to live               peacefully,
Again, when times were            simpler          and the
Rain didn't fall so hard.

Now sitting underneath this
Old Cork Tree,
Shaded from the falling rain; the
Evening looking beautiful, I call out, "Give me a pen & call me, Mrs.

Benzedrine!"
                                              ­And now
Laughing; soaking wet, from         standing in the rain.
Everywhere I go, people look at me like     I'm a nobody...
Even though,    I'm more of a somebody    then    them.
Don't lose  control   on reality.....  *it's all a dream, anyways.
copyright; 2011 McNally, Inc.
another poem written from mind to page...not really thinking about it, just to make small corrections.
came from the song 20 Dollar Nose Bleed by Fall Out Boy, along with the quote, Mrs. Benzedrine, is Mr. in the lyric, I changed it to fit me. <3
Jordan Rowan Aug 2015
There's a chill in the air and wind 'neath your boots
There's clouds in the sky and trees with roots
If all were to fall onto your crying head,
Would you carry it home or lie down dead?
The strength you have defines your choice
Will you whimper and cry or show your voice?
Through sorrow and pain and happiness and joy
You either run and hide from all those you employ
Or show them what you're made of inside
For what you do becomes who you have to hide
Not what you say with fury or a gentle tone
But the actions you take when you're all alone
When you're down and out, almost recluse
And you feel as if you have no use
If you still get up and challenge yourself
You will become prisoner to no one else

There's a song in the air and dirt 'neath your boots
A song that carries on down to your roots
Back from the days of no chores or worry
When nothing was done in any sort of hurry
You can hear these words in the back of your mind
And it takes you back to a simpler time
These little moments, spontaneous and surreal
Show you how you can always feel
Feel good and joyous even through the worst
When tired and hungry, they give you thirst
These little moments are found throughout life
They can break you free from worldly strife
And these things define who you were before
And change who you are to forever something more
Harkening back to when you were innocent and clean
Can make you try your best to better your scene

Your moments in life are yours to keep
When daydreaming or your lost in sleep
The worst will come and so will the best
The dark before the dawn always sets to the west
You can succumb to the pain that comes with years
Or you can fight back the stress and fight back the tears
Through everything that comes your way
Only you can change how you live out your stay
Others will come and others will leave
But what holds together is what you believe
Strength is within and without you
Within is taken while without is beside you
Hold onto a grain of meaningless sand
And notice how it's light in your hand
Just for that moment it's harmless and vain
But if you hold on forever it builds into pain
Word *****. Complete rambling of someone trying to make themselves feel better by trying to describe with actual strength is.
Nobody Sep 2017
Your suffering is always greater than mine,
you claim your fears are bigger.
Whine your feelings are better than mine,
insist my feelings are simpler.

Try to laugh my feats away like a joke,
but my will is more forward than yours.
Now don’t expect any warmth from me,
my spirit won’t be ignored.

You think you can quiet my defiance,
but I'm used to standing alone;
still these ego trips never get old,
they only harden my resolve.

So you timidly try and silence me,
then make excuses to escape.
‘Cause your wits won't handle me long,
I’m the one you can’t sedate.
Rob Atkinson Dec 2012
It’s strange to think we fear the darkness
when we are younger,
A form of innocence that we harnessed
I’d much rather prefer.
Now that sounds crazy but hear me out
it’s something that you’ll see,
When innocence is gone you’ll come about
to find it hides in me.
That same darkness resides in you
I dread it’s greater than,
The darkness wrapped around your room
that you feared at age ten.
It’s something that grew inside your mind
and clung to your rib cage,
With every breath you come to find
the wars inside you wage.
It hides in every crevice and corner
bound to your bone marrow,
It tears apart your soul and worse
sometimes it even shows.
So I’d prefer those simpler days
with light came faith and trust,
The flick of a switch can’t keep at bay
the darkness inside all of us.
©RobbyAtkinson
Turoa Feb 10
One step forward
Followed by another
Losing sight of an end
Given time
The destination
Doesn't matter

Never have two words
Been simpler
Or meant more
Than those from someone who cares
Who's always been there
Standing, waiting
Holding a door.

..Stop running
To: You
A certain special person said this, someone inspires and always surprises me; she has been there from the start. Thank you, no words can express how much you mean to this old jack of all trades-dancing-vagabond-cowboy.
From: Me
Andrew Rueter Jun 2017
Somewhere in the forest
There is a paradise
Hidden in a circus tent
Blocked by a bramble thicket

There are ways we want to live
And ways we must live
But a spectrum is discovered
When the way we must live
Diminishes the way we want to live
And the way we want to live
Dictates the way we must live

We eat and then ****
Life tastes adequate when we're dining
So we keep feeding
Our appetite becomes insatiable
We devour what opportunity grants us
Ignoring the rumbling in our stomachs
Until we must face the unpleasantness of our waste
Even when we're wise enough to know the effects of eating
We continue eating
Learning minor methods of mitigating damage to digestion
It becomes hard to swallow
That this is all it takes to be human
As humanity's power becomes planetary
Meals turn to feasts
And **** piles up
As the rancid fumes plague us with mental monsters
We yearn for a simpler time
When rations were the size of a sunflower seed
And excrement exited as ethereal gas
An age that never existed

The way I wanted to live became the way I had to live
But now that I'm living the way I have to
I can't tell the difference between what I want and what I need
I guess that could be a good thing
Because the space between what I want and what I got
Is where fulfillment is found
LK Aug 27
My eyes tell a story in a language he can’t read,
So he put them back on the shelf and picked simpler ones.
But i was willing to translate.
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2013
Blown by a warm south wind, I sail off to sea,
that's the path it seems that life has had for me.
Adventure whispers in my ear and calls me out it seems,
and gathers me along with all my hopes and dreams.

I dream of all the trips I'll take when life is simpler still,
and I wait to walk on beaches until I have had my fill.
I gaze into the eyes of my true love who stands here by my side,
as I watch for the rising of the sun and of the morning tide.  

I hold on to the hand of this true miracle of men,
and I'll keep him in this heart of mine until the very end.
The man I speak of truly was a gift from up above,
and I cannot live without him or without his gift of love.

He came to me a stranger, then became a steadfast friend
and led me from my misery and helped my heart to mend.
He guided me with his hand to be the woman I am now
and helped me to the place that started with a vow.

Now as the trade winds ******* I cannot help but think,
of the beauty by my side and the love that doesn't sink.
When adventure calls to me and whispers in my ear,
I cannot help but hold your hand and pray that you'll be here.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
L Maughan Jul 21
and who can gage
the worth in acts of love
their palmistry of sorts
and clairvoyance
    
to catch the wind
within a jar  
or stop
a quickened stream
simpler far
than to predict
just when
loves downy seed
will land upon your skin
    
those acts exist
to crack
the gated yards
of clocks
where seasons
of indifference
dry up
            
               drop

impulsively
a heart unfastens
its captivity
finds liberty
within another chest
Patricia LeDuc Mar 2018
Ohio my childhood home
An innocent time
A simpler life
A place where corn fields go on for miles and miles
The fields wave and sway beckoning you
To make secret forts in their midst
The original corn maze
In there we eat cow corn
Never thinking to ask
Was it fresh or clean?
It was organic at its best

Playing in the water down at the “crick”
No such worries of a chemical spill
No one got sick
No parents around
Nobody drowned

Tornadoes come by
What a scary thrill
Mother Nature at her worst
Toppling trees each way
Providing us a strange place to play
In between the branches
We made our mansions
Safe maybe not...
But we played anyway

Far from the city lights
We spend our nights
Watching natural sights
UFO’S hovering over
Tall trees in the front yard
In an eerie alien fog
Fireflies glowing looking for love
The tree frogs are singing out for a mate
Mother raccoons bring their young from the nest
As skunks delight us with their odorous best
All under the Moons sight
As I close my eyes I can see
Ohio my memory home
February 9, 2018
I want to be moved
Day to day
To revel
To  weep
Even in strangers conceit

But why can’t the thing that moves me just be my own two feet?
The cricket's  rhythmic chivalry
slows to Autumn's droning crawl
like an unwound eight-day clock
unconsciously neglected by time

The Sounds of summer that fall silent
are never really noticed until gone
things we often take for granite,
a mistake rendering life benign

Dreams living only in our minds
beheld within, the love that keeps us alive
never caring, never needing to know,
"fifty ways to leave your lover" behind

So many miles spinning faster,
so much weight to weigh you down
it never really was a simpler time
just a window with a different view

Fleeting time may shine like shooting star
an irreverent kind of blinding light come to pass
a different hue of colours cast and sown
an  eerie silence may befall unprovoked

As if you found an urgent message
in a bottle drifting through your tides
you can spend the rest a lifetime trying
to catch lightening in that bottle thence

Don't look away from a moment
      too long ... in the blink of an eye
             it'll all be gone


someone you used to know ... September 16, 2017
Notes: "fifty ways to leave your lover"...Paul Simon
love is a rhythm i choose not to edit
burning serpents in syncopated tones
stolen vibrations from conquered nations
i am amazed at slavery's undertones
doomsday hypothesis
insufferable hypocrisy
is this the way we are meant to perceive
reality's final throes
perhaps a last attempt at infatuation
another insurgency toward our situation
there is music in the millipedes
1,000 feet stomping on the hot pavement
midday heat is burning the gentlest of trees
and yet saving lives of anteaters in need
grief is complete and not wasted
never jumbled by threads of frailty
insipid lipids deftly crawl upon caterpillars shoulders
starry eyed soldiers
sold to the streets in shivering brokenness
i am madness incarnate
the west is a spectacle of insubstantial lunacy
if you wish to conquer this reality

open your heart and kiss the feet of kindness
blindness is worshipped as if it was wisdom
sincere victims of another’s prison
simpler lives define simpler times
keepers of the rhythm
keepers of the rhyme
i dine on salamanders and supine slivers of the moon’s heartbeat
fault no one but yourself
gifts are wealth
i am salt and sulphur is the mother of the soul
loose cannons explode
she rode the wild shadows
and took the backroads all the way home
infinite living history
his memory serving beauty forever
for a lifetime i am looking for truth
in shattered space and respecting the face of the ancestors
self aware shades of solidarity
harvested by hands made light with clarity
is this music
is this meaning
her openness is our healing
this majesty surrounds us all
resolve to rise and your bound to fall
small instances of randomness daily
semantics are happenstance
you graduate from school with a bouquet of flowers
that rot in the morning’s splattering of paint
as garbage heaps resist *******
issues of power and surface tension
i am dreading the exceptions
give love now or move out of the way
stay awake and aware
while sadhana is beckoning to us all
Damaré M Aug 2016
How I wish I knew you, oh im almost absolutely positive that things will be much simpler. I would no longer chase the race of these small minded women who constantly run away from their true escape. Too frightened to heighten their righteousness. A real man in 2016 is intimidating but not for you he is. You're a goddess who only should be standing aside a man with a Godly frame. The look in you're eyes explain to me how a dude with small hands cannot complete your task. I have to ask. Are you finish settling for these dull minded homosapiens? You are the idol of mankind who any ol' kind of men cannot apprehend. If you look into my eyes, press up against my forceful figure, without words witness how the heavens speak wisdom to our spirits. As we have connected eyes an exchange take place. You take my strength and I take your weaknesses. Oh how I hope to get to know you.
this one's for you.
Eleanor Sinclair Sep 2018
Here I am laying, filling my head
At 3 A.M rerunning every word I have said
I suppose my tears are the blood from my soul
Happy or sad it overflows out of me and I can’t seem to feel whole
I don’t want to die anymore because things aren’t too bad
But I’m tired constantly and I miss my mom and dad
That’s the thing about being an adult
You make the tough decisions yourself and if they’re wrong it’s your fault
You choose right from wrong and no one is there to tell you otherwise
No one is there to catch you in your lies or wipe the stream of tears from your eyes
Momma isn’t there to hold your hair when you *****
Daddy isn’t there to point to the sky at the comets
It’s more like a hollow and dark lonely place
Days feel like years yet weeks seem to race
I suppose we take for granted our youthful state
We don’t know what we have until it’s a little too late
I’d give anything to go back to a day before loans
Spend a day with my family before I wanted to become skin and bones
Give my brother a hug and tell him I care
Tell my father that the things he calls my mother are wrong and unfair
Play with my dog before the cancer took him away
Show up to work with enthusiasm as though it was my first day
See my town like I did through an adolescent lens
Bike through my neighborhood to the house that once was my friend’s
Run in the yard and climb that one crooked tree
Relive the trip to the forest that ended with bees
Laugh at myself when I fell off my bike
Not take myself so seriously and be willing to admit who’s right
Tell my sister “thank you” for yelling at me to not speak English
She kept me fluent and that was her wish
Go trick or treating from door to door
“Here’s some candy, would you like some more?”
My eyes fill with liquid nostalgia as they sparkle and close
My head bobs and nods as I catch it then doze
I miss the world before it got complex
Before I had to worry about what came next
I’d live for a day at the age of ten
Before things began to hurt and I was mistreated by men
I’d watch the stars with Jessica and talk about life
I’d give her a hug after a sleepover and get back on my bike
Pedaling home in the cool fall breeze
Everything was simpler back then and I took it for granted with ease
I wish to go back to a time almost half my life ago
I wake from my sleep to realize it can't be so
Nadia Jul 2
City trees, weak and stunted,
bear relentless mockery by
country and wild cousins,
though everyone agrees that
suburban trees are least
esteemed, paltry excuses
overcompensating for their
deficits in diversity (of size or
shape) with excess pageantry

The enlightened ones, city and
suburban, wave manicured
tips, speaking in whispered
thrums - how relieved they are
not to be unprotected forest
trees, in constant danger of the
ravages of capitalism and neglect

The forest trees laugh at their
ignorant cousins - they know
the freedom of the wild places
where true peace can be found;
they will gladly face the danger
proudly rooted, in wild ground

The older trees, between naps,
wheeze of many, many
springtimes ago, of cleaner air
and bigger trees, of simpler
lives and clearer skies and
creatures long since gone;
they know change will come,
And change will go, and
Still they will root on

NCL July 2019
Fenix Flight Feb 11
Can we go back to simpler days?
When I didnt think this was all a mistake.
When there was nothing but love,
and I knew the taste of your embrace.
s Aug 26
bake the cake in time lapse
and boomerang the icing,
mark yourself on the map
but act like no-one’s watching.
swipe along the filters,
pick the gif it deserves,
couldn’t be any simpler,
yet I'm a bundle of nerves.

used to be hard to know
if it’s dream or memory,
but now I think its borrowed
from your Instagram story;
I need to reconfigure
truth from media feed,
it seems I’ve bartered reality
for the comfort of this gleam;

and crossing a trembling icon
on that five inch screen,
is no longer killing the application,
but just a version of me.
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