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Chasing ghosts through a fountain
Hoping when my eyes clear from this momentary blindness
You'll be right behind me
Holding me up when I feel haunted in the middle of the day
Sheldon Dsouza Mar 2015
It’s the beginning of the monsoons and of the week,
A clouded chilly one with the clouds blanketing the sun.
I’m struggling to get out of bed and into my daily routine,
Running late as always, there’s never time for fun.

The first rains of the season were not welcomed with a smile,
Cars, Buses and mopeds splashing and spraying water all around.
People cursing the rains and others on the roads,
Racing to the office is not as easy as it may sound.

It’s a dark dull day with no sunshine to light my path,
And the rain to rob me of the dryness I had left.  
As a child I remember this being different in every way,
The rain bringing me cheer and happiness, never indulging in theft.

Stopping at a red light, all wet and soggy,
I see this small figure making way between the vehicles standing.
On every window and door she knocked with enthusiasm,
This little girl hopping around in every puddle landing.

Trying to sell the water lilies she had in her hand,
Not letting the frowns or the drops of rain her spirit lower.
She shines off all the hate and the disgust,
Through the muck and water walking to sell this pretty flower.

All of the dullness and gloom she got rid.
A smile on my face and in my heart she brought,
This little girl with those bright water lilies,
Like the flower she sold, all eyes and hearts she caught.

Bringing smiles and spreading fragrances in times so dull,
The water lily blooms in the muck and conditions degrading.
So did this little ******* this dark rainy day,
Returning cheer and happiness drained in the rain by blooming.
bekka walker Apr 2016
I am an old stool that sits at the corner of a soggy bar.
Peoples names etched into me like rigged little scars.
Surrounded with scraps of sad saps coaxing demons from within their repertoire.
Shadows of pretty pale faces twisted in the dim light collect over the years.
I'm sticky from thousands of spilt beer and silent tears.
I cling to your worn jeans as you rest upon me.
You find it cozy; I am the only one that holds onto you with desperation and not the other way around.
But don't be outfoxed.
I don't need you.
I don't need you like the juke box ****** needs the needle hidden in his socks.
I don't need you like the bartender needs his private bottle of Jamison to soothe his own life's hard knocks.
I don't need you like the blonde at the end of the counter needs someone's beer stained breath hot against her coin slot.
Because I'm just a stool.
An old fool,
forgotten in the corner of your soggy cesspool.
Seanathon May 2016
This day is like the pouring rain, heavy falling and hard to swallow.
Dark as the memory of an old embrace,
Cold and mellow, like the cousin of a summer day.

Yet within this rain we are unchanged, just not the same.
I see the water as it cascades,
And floods the streets, to wipe the dogged dirt away.

It’s in my ears, it's on my mind, like a booming sigh.
The raindrops on the soggy ground.
Flooded I am washed away, but not far enough to leave this town.
Sometimes storms really creep up on you...
L B Oct 2016
I let you go
to Philadelphia
I let you go
thirteen goin' on “life”
to your momma-- (God rest her-- and keep you
--from wherever she is)
to your father in Philly
outa the picture

Sheepish in the doorway of my classroom
back again
one last time--

Say good-bye, kid, to your short stay in Scranton
a town that can't rhyme
whose name falls over its own misery
No use for outsiders

“Where's your book?
Found your binder in the rain
Soggy protest to school's demands?
Of course it's yours
I checked, ya know”

"No way!"

Desk's been empty, three weeks now
Still, gotta ask
“Whacha doin?
Where ya been?”

“Khmir,
I'm sorry for your loss....”
Thirty seconds shares our grief
Thirty seconds for your future's-- all I got

“Listen to your teachers!
Do your work!
Please-- be okay?”

Khmir
in your wooly black coat-- like a bear
like a dare
shruggin and dancin in the doorway
of the “show”

Homework? Aint happenin'
But one paper, though
on why--
YOU-- should be president

and I almost vote for you
"Life" refers to a long prison sentence.

This poem is meant to be an indictment of the American
"prisons for profit" system that disproportionately targets African-American males.
Kristaps Nov 2018
Cheeks: in ***** hue they
Glow, hide his wrinkly soggy
Eyes, give life to corpse.
zebra Jun 2017
she loved thunder storms most of all
the crackle of white hot bolts ripping through the sky
the shear immensity of power
she always thought it was him
her beloved God
big boy
Thor
with his flowing blond hair
blue aquatic eyes
washboard stomach
and delicately curved *****
finally a man good enough for her
even if he was fly by night

when the heavens thickened gray
like soggy cotton
she could feel atmospheres shift
it made her ******* pert
her mouth would salivate
like a lurid peach
her ***** swelled and dampened
tears of adoration and enchantment
filled her eyes

no longer able to contain her self
she would strip naked
fling off her *******
and run out to the lush verdant meadows
calling at the top of her lungs
yoooooooooo hooooooooooo

as the cool rain descended
she ran thrilled to the mud between her toes
seeing great claws of white lightening  echo
through the sky

without hesitation
she fell to the cool earth beneath her
wallowing in the delicious sloshing ooze
positioning her self on all fours
head thrown back
*** up high
calling to the heavens
come on, come on big boy
ive been waiting for you
let me have it good
her clitoral lips
drooled with anticipation
her ******
a pulsating aching

the sky rumbled
with stretching streaks of fire
like a great freight train
spanning infinity
while the earth shook like a
hollow moon
she swayed her hips
rhythmically to and fro
whispering a love song

oh sir
i need a man like you
wont you love me
adorations true

i kneel before
my sweet Lord Thor
where's that hammer
come on and score

you are so big
and im so little
how about it God
just a tickle

hit it now
give it to me good
kisses baby
like you only could


tears of desire cascaded
down her pink cheeks
as she recited her love mantra
her mouth naked wet

suddenly
a great bolt of lightening
shot down from heavens throne
entering her ******
splitting her in flames
her head turned dark mahogany
sent careening fifty yards
leaving her mouth
a yawning twisted smudge
of fossilized obsidian
with eyes
blackened flaring hollows

her tender pink ****
a chard flower
smoldering
like a
petite
grilled
calamari
Paul Hansford Aug 2017
The rain makes everything fresh,
   the plants and the grass are like gold,
      the air is sparkling with joy
                                                           (by Sharon)

The rain is coming down.
   Look outside, everything is wet.
      The leaves glitter with the rain on them.
                                                           (by Tracey)

Rain makes the roof top wet,
   the grass is all wet and soggy,
      and mum cannot do the washing.
                                                        ­    (by Lee)
juneau Jan 25
i sweat and sweat and sweat and sweat
my under arms are always wet
basting myself in my own vinaigrette
i’ll never be the cool guy in the corvette
blasting his tunes with an old school cassette
with a blonde on his right and in the back a brunette
i’ll always be this soggy piglet
you’d think i could just shower and then i’d be set
but NO! don’t you see these pits are a leaky faucet
January 25, 2019

fifty-seven
ew
zebra Jan 5
the worm burps crasanthyums
like hypnic ****
matter becomes metaphor

thats how the beast works with in us
we are a book of masks
and i'm up to my neck in
mirrors of the marvelous

midnight music beguiles like a blizzard of whispers
flaming candles heat like ovens
burning finger by finger
i melt flabbergasted in dark linoleum clouds

blood gluttonous
tender bites
lips like red rain and trussed thighs
she grins
a face of needles and mice

i think she wants me

this old man, soggy eyed mop
linen wrapped
before aortic aneurysms
i'm a living tarot card
the falling tower and the lovers
break downs and break throughs

my groin a slobbering clot
dreaming ******* drenched
straight jacketed on her knees
***** willow shadows
drooling exacerbations
a caffeinated candy
licked thickly
twitching blinks; rem ejaculations

her face; a tattooed ****
**** mouth smiles
brown one eyed gnome
**** the stinking cyclops
ennui; *** talk lubricates
a raspberry crumble
looking for god

omniscient
even in *****

the white swans utterance
incoherence's
dressed in a ****** negligee
her belly a thousand ******* mouths
and i press into her thunder
shattering dawns gravity
a pinhole of empty cups
Zoë Jul 2015
I don't remember how many cars passed,
Or if I saw Orion's belt.
I don't remember the night's smell,
Or what shoes I wore on my feet.
All I remember,
Is how much it hurt.
Tears rolled down my cheeks,
Soaking through my jeans when I neglected to wipe them away.
My sudden disbelief,
Hung in the soggy night air,
Like cigarette smoke.
Reality's hands tightened around my neck,
Choking me with the truth.
At some point
In that dark hazy hour,
My trust slipped through my fingers,
As quickly as a Sunday evening.
Nothing was "to be or not to be"
Between you and me.
For there is no such thing.
I simply tripped on strings of promises,
And sweet words that unraveled my sneaker laces,
only to bleed my trust all over you.
Sore and delusional,
I wrapped my heart up with a bow,
And gave you my love over and over again.
Although I didn't even consider for a moment,
That you would use it
to destroy me.
Ayesha Kumud Jan 23
My eyes were soggy,
My heart was dry without love...
Suddenly I received two special gifts,
Unique gifts that's are describing  tough.
My hands were stinky,
My mind was full of huge garbage,
Almighty was watching it i didn't know
I turned into beauty from living rough.
Debra in Silence Dec 2017
Gag
I'm sweating your ******* out of my skin and I'm soaking in it
I'm soaking
Wet
My soggy misinterpretation
Your narcissism is sublime
Above and beyond the call of duty
I'm
Choking
You're shoving it down my throat and I can't
breathe
back up
back up


.....
Alastur Berit Sep 2018
Some people feel like a fire
I feel more like an ember
still hot enough to
burn
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,
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
and
its heat kisses you,
after all the effort you put into
stoking back the flames,
will still always burn you.
Nightwolf Dec 2018
Opportunity surrounds me.

Like a restaurant menu I can
pick and choose which
items bet suit my palate,
though i'm afraid my mouth is
too dry
to fully appreciate the
savor off these new cuisines -
though they are quite fresh,
well prepared and
no doubt more nutritious than my
usual burger stand;
somehow, the burger sounds more
appetizing.

I know it is quite
strange to crave a
tasteless hamburger when
fillet mignon is on the table,
but I think what I really
desire is the familiar atmosphere;
people who understand
why I'm there because
they've been doing the same for years -
keeping with the
everyday tradition of
quick and familiar.

And, though we often
fantasize of gourmet, new would be
too much of a
bother to find agreeable.

Thus, we remain satisfied with the
every day grease ball burgers and
soggy fries.


©Nathan A. Brock 2018
Sonia Ettyang Dec 2018
Cloudy skies
Heavy downpour
Cold breeze
Swaying trees
Misty window panes
Traffic lights
Hooting cars
Gushing gutters
Drenched trench coats
Soggy feet
Colourful umbrellas
Crowded shelters
Empty side walks

The city skips a few hearbeats
And comes to a stand still
Soon as the pounding rain stops
Everything returns to normalcy

But rainy days call for
Steaming cups
Slouchy sweaters
Fluffy blankets
Snuggles
Cuddles
Novels
Notebooks
Gramophone tunes in the background
Enjoying a little piece of heaven
While the day is washed off
Setting stage for a clean fresh start
©Sonia Ettyang
Lover of rain
zero Jul 11
Our love is like an echo at the end of a hollowed-out tree trunk;
Catch me if you can or not at all.
However much you told me
that this was home,
the feeling of being grafted
leaves an impression
on the skin.
The story could never find a final sentence,
The poems are half-written
The words are never given.
I wonder if you understand how
Odd it is to stay up,
writing about people who actually live their lives
Whilst we are still avoiding ours.

Our love is like a car that has veered off the winding road,
and crashed, headfirst into a
Sleepless river.
It refuses to let us leave
because it fills us with warm water,
and hope of salvation,
with smiles and girls nights in,
with beers and old
fond memories of us in class,
And I wonder if the river ever thinks
About the relic’s it hides below it?
The people drowning.
The buried treasure and pure gold
Waiting to be drained and used
Like a doll to a child to a check to a businessman.

Our love is like a bottle of wine left unopened.
The sweet turns to sour-
The bubbles turn flat,
The cork is soggy and the red is a mess.
Sometimes I wonder if you even see this
House anymore?
How the pillows droop
And the flowers are dead
And the candles have melted
On the wooden tabletop in dread?
Tears stain the skirting boards like
blood splatter on the floor.
I just don't think I can do
us
Anymore.
-Z.xo
Maia Vasconez Dec 2016
My foreign friend once went through my bag and found a bottle of ibuprofen. She said I wonder if these are her anti-depressants because if so then they're not working. Once my friend, excuse the bruise, my friend thought the rope in my room was meant for a noose. Once I regected food all day and so she spooned the meal to my face. She said "good girl" when I made myself a sandwich. She used to cringe every time she saw my ****** up wrists. She said her dad ******* when she was a kid and once she took a pen to her own skin. She said you know that feeling when you throw up ice cream? and I was the only girl who got it. Who really, really got it.
So, I remember sitting in the park by the waterfront smoking flavored cigars. It's starting to get dark and your leaning on my arm. I wanna split a cigarette but you're saying how I always get the filter wet. You were both the hardest and softest girl I'd ever met. We got our cards read that weekend. The tarot lady said I'd fall in love, I said bring it on. Well, I remember nights in a used hotel room, wound up on the bed was the only time you let me hold you. I used to give you chapstick every time you asked for it. You said you only missed me when your lips got chapped. and those days we weren't friends were the worst ones that I don't remember too well. I forgot how we both pulled the devil when we got our cards read. What I remember is that you were there for the worst anxiety attack. It's still funny cause you're the only one in the room who was scared. And the next day I'm dead inside and somebody's in my ear telling me about how they're making an effort to be friendly and I'm the problem, I'm not reciprocating. You ask me why I'm wearing a hat, It's so I can hide my shame under it. Today I don't have a voice, I can't talk. Can't say what I'm upset about. And I remember somebody telling me that if I thought happy I'd be happy which lead to break down sobbing in the bathroom and you came in and talked me out. You never blamed me, never thought what happened to me was my fault. And you listened to me spew about what it's like to have no friends and to hate yourself so much. And you didn't ask questions... you just loved. Loved, loved, loved. So much that I saw it building up in myself. That first jump into the pool in our sweaters and sharing showers and drying in the sun. Listening to you mumble in your sleep, combing through your hair with my thumb. And you said the first time you saw me you thought ****! Another girl that's too pretty. I think we should still be... lying on a sun lit deck. You're reading my books, I'm wearing your shoes. We should still be out on the lake, eating lunch in one of those big red canoes. We should still be jumping off the dock, yelling when the fish swim near us. We should still be up on a hill where we can smoke and watch the sunset fall to dusk. I should still be waking up late in your tent and stealing the blankets. We should still be up all night talking politics and arguing semantics.
So yes, I remember lying in your arms those last few nights while watching shooting stars. Those nights I wished so long and hard to never feel lonely again, I realized this summer that's my biggest fear. And this summer! This summer I feel healed! You bandaged me up so the good bye was rough. I felt like child peeling old band aides off.
Before she left she told me what I needed to fix about myself. In our soggy t-shirts, we have our toes diped in the water. She grabs a pool noodle out of my hands and as she bends it in demonstration says I have no back bone she can take whatever she wants, she can just have it. I'm too flexible. But she opens up, tells me about the guys she's ****** and how she's never really been in love. She tells me about her girl crush. She says if I'd told her I'd loved her first, "like I SHOULD have" then she'd of been crushing on me instead. I just wish I could have been the one to drop her off at the airport. I helped her pack her bags and watched her slam the car door shut. It's different when you're forced to be apart, she didn't have the chance to make me hurt. I count the miles that seperate us. Guess I'll just love her from a distance.
This is probably the longest thing I've ever written. I've been working on this for a month and a half I think but I'm not sure how I feel about it. It's a true story, my summer with a British girl. We were in a big city but also spent most of our time in the woods in the middle of nowhere. Anyways, suggestions always welcome!
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