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Anna-Marie Rose Oct 2018
Show the skills
Precisely to your likely
******* as though
Its my only
True indulgent

Wicked lashes
Sinful lips
Satisfying
Him
My mission


I Kneel
Focusing
On drinking
That
Beautiful load

Swallowing my Daddy's
***
I look up and smile
Accomplishing
My goal
Such a talented tongue!
Dougie,DADDY, Little, Babygirl
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2017
A message heart delivered by a musing troubadour
left footprints upon a well weathered rivers’ rocky shoal

the lazy days of the summer’s simmering
ethereal breezes lazily waft astir

Unknown distance ‘tween yonder skies azure;
thoughts of nebulous distances fearlessly ignored to be sure,
connectedness sown and deference’s soar from high above,
yet beyond vast breadth afar the great divide

His brimful heart in hand fulfills passersby thirst

needing love here, hearts on sleeves sincere,
wellspring sensibilities handed out willingly here
voids filled by word of quill …
right now is the known needed time

Glasses half empty suffused to their half full brims;
do unto others you will reap just what ye sow,
a poet beyond the bounds of his own demure,
bearing immense understanding

The quintessential essence of family love
drips from heart like heavens rain,
testifies the heart's purpose for being

A poet’s voice speaks in soul’s timeless tongues
unknown breaths from another understanding realm
too deep for words;
yet the word sayer struggles to see his forest ‘s poetic beauty
for to see beyond the pendant beauty
within its magnificent grandeur
of his own gifted heart’s nurtured trees.

~

The Twist

This poem was not written by me.
It was written almost four years ago,
lying fallow in some passing cloud.

Writ for me by someone effervescently more talented than I,
and one of the poets whose quality of work, and command of our shared language is something to which all of us should aspire.

I post it now as yet another homage to the true author.

For in reading it, never was a poem was far more clearly,
an unwitting self-portrait.

It was written on August 21st, 2013
by Harlon Rivers


by Nat Lipstadt
one of us, his tongue Moses-stung, with a hot coal of language's divinity
~
this would-be poet,
weighty troubled by misdirected words
of a musing troubadour,
for if ever a reflecting pool ought be
a two-way mirror reconfigured,
this poem is deservedly reversed
and of him homaged

by time, well weathered the poem above,
it's simple elegance tips and tilts the scales,
double blinding the justices supremely,
binding them for honesty for the subject,
is the auteur, one who sees too well
and yet l!
cannot perceive himself in his own words,
when now needs the judgement of their verdict
and your worthy recognition

now I ken better distance 'tween artist and art,
I, a workingman's daily dallying in simplistic machine craft,
my works deservedly lost in the waterfalling
of the endless also rans

non-nebulous distances.between skies of
Oregon country blue
and
the worldy worn asphalt grayed words of a graying man aging,
then let clarity speak, in plainest harmony,
know my deference’s soars to the high above,
one of us at birth, god gifted,
not I,
one of us, his tongue, like Moses-stung
with a hot coal of language's divinity

blessings, the keenest of nature,
where they divide and how they intersect
his brimful heart in our eyes fulfills the passerby's thirst
for revelations, small shards of shared sensibilities

my voids filled by the words of his quill

"to see his forest ‘s poetic beauty
for to see beyond the pendant beauty
within its magnificent grandeur
of his own gifted heart’s nurtured trees"

This was written April 15, 2017
for Harlon Rivers
by Nat Lipstadt

behind the poems,  travels another world…
Jemevic Mar 17
Talented people out there
Make this world bright and colourful.
I see people every day
At the alleys,
At the market,
And in my home.
They have always been a part of life.
Their anger,
Agony,
Happiness,
Worry.
Express the world with sincerity.
To me,
People make the world very bright and happy,
To me,
Everyone is talented.
Daan Vandelay May 2014
I feel her grip fading, slowly is
she leaving, hopping off the ice.
She says it didn't go very well,
but I couldn't say.
Speechless,
because she was so pretty,
impressed,
because she was so talented,
touched,
because she looked divine.
It hurts to think about it,
to accept she'll never be mine.

Time will pass and she'll forget,
we'll drift apart like we never met,
to me it's more than sight,
I have dared to love her with all my might
and cried because it didn't work.

I don't know what to change this time,
choice, my appearance, my act,
my voice, my talks, my jokes or walks.
What did I do wrong, this time.
She's gone
I am not
the prettiest girl
or the sexiest

not the smartest
or most talented

but I am a unique
array assembled
of whozeewhatsits

(razor blade analogies
fluorescent petal lips
coloring book flips shifting
hues and lines in real time
intense passion pigments
softened by maniacal sillies
black glitter, tears, tongue, teeth
synaptic syntax screams
billowing belly cavern
sacred swallows swimming
serifs seeping thru sweat
into fluffiest warm cotton
pinksugar dewbloom)

that will render
equivalent yet opposing
inverted complementary
juxta pair of anglepants

exquisitely speechless
with sheer me-ness

hallow mirrors blinding
four egoic eyes igniting
incinerating the dim

and in that stillness
I will feel their them
and feel it feeling
my me

betwixt twisting
our empty brimming
with eternity

...

or maybe
that happened

already
Growly Wolfus Jul 10
Words have no meaning if you can't speak.
Don't get lost in your imagination with me.
I'll always be here, wanting to play.
Others don't understand what you feel everyday.
You can't hear any of this world's beauty.
You can only imagine the sounds of things we see.
You've been taught a language no one normal can read.
You're lost in your mind waiting to be set free.

Don't be afraid; I am here in your head,
But you sit and cry, filled with sorrow, instead.
No one can help, you'll make your own path.
Stand up to your fears and never turn back.
You may feel blind to this criticizing world,
but you are a unique, talented girl.
I am learning sign language.  It made me think about how deaf people feel when they are introduced to a hearing world.
Darianshae Jan 2018
Is it **** if you don't kick and scream? But you said no. But you drank ... it was your choice they would say so happily they found a crawl space to make it out for the future of this poor man. Is it **** if you never told anyone about it? Is it **** if you waited 3 years too long? You wanted so badly to run but your body didn't move throughout it all, so stiff you remembered. Why didn't you scream then is what they'll say. I wanted so badly to shout and run away. I wanted so badly to come out about this ****. But I didn't so, it's my fault they would victim blame. They would say since he has a platform, she only wanted attention off it. They would let him slide because after all he's so young and talented why would we want to ruin his life. Yet hers is already ruined .
The thing that hurts the most is the easiest thing to write about
G2 May 2018
“The innocent lover, talented guy,
whom I used for the upgradation of my intellect

The next one is a celebrity,
I knew whom I won't get
And is the cause of my occasional lust

Fall on the trap of a rich-good-looking lecher,
who had used many like me in recent past

The future one is a broken heart,
still living in someone's dream
and now my 'so-called' sweetheart.”
#boyfriend, #sad, #repent
Lizzie Nov 2017
Him, he goes to my school...
Breathtaking is the first thing that comes to mind when I think of him,
Which ironically is often...
His short red hair soft as fur, skin warm and comforting...
He probably doesn't  like me in any way, and that's okay...
Gosh he's so talented, his voice is bliss...
He makes me nervous, when I'm around him my words get trapped... How wack is that?
I'm not one for showing emotions, but I'm trying...
He's a gorgeous person and, I really like him...
I wonder if likes me to....
Levi Kips Dec 2018
I'm the one
I'm who you show your parents
I'm not who you tell friends
I'm safe choice
I'm the rebound
I'm the medicine for confidence
I'm below average
I'm Igor
I'm below average
I'm "some day"
I'm below average
I'm "not in a million years"
I'm talented-
But not enough to look athletic
I'm "you look like you're in the band"
I'm too short to be athlete
I'm black-
But I'm not the black you see in movies.
I'm "you know what I mean?"
I'm that guy,
somebody you used to know
but not somebody worthy of a song
I'm a place holder
I'm bare minimum
I'm the perfect shape on your personality search-
But I'm not the right height
But I'm not the right shade
But I'm not the right time
I'm not the right Greek organization
I'm what you looking for
But I'm not the one
Maybe either expand upon Greek organization line OR maybe get rid of it??? for funsies, see what happnes :D
Dan Filcek Apr 2015
observe the reader,
this semi-mythical figure
watch a blank white wall slowly turn into a mural,
a tapestry of vivid vignettes
captured by a team of illustrators.
stimulating and fiercely polite.
sandal-wearing earnestness,
curious, questioning, quick to laugh.
Bite the hand that feeds, but not too hard.
pull for the powerful and the talented,
the wittiest and best-designed,
the strongest for features,
the one most likely to reflect modern life.
disclosing its own sardonic wit.
This is where its culture has changed.
a farrago of power, corruption and lies,
The story erupted across all the media.
shining a fitful light on the mucky machinations of power.
the trail of dirt led all the way to the desk.
speaking truth to power
a defining moment in history.
a nice obit without going to the trouble of dying.
abiding belief in the free market
the seeds of its demise.
millions graze on it for nothing
This is not boom or bust, but both at once:
these millions of hits won’t pay our salaries.
The web giveth, and the web taketh away.
the knife had come close to the patient’s vital organs.
a chance to sculpt as well as to slash.
twiddling the knobs on digital.
glimmerings of light
you can learn new tricks.
This year for Poetry Month, I decided to post a "found poem" every day. If writing a poem is like painting, a "found poem" is like sculpting. source - https://www.1843magazine.com/content/ideas/tim-de-lisle/can-guardian-survive
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