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r m b May 2017
It's strange
how childhood felt
like a train ride
that would never stop
like reading a book
with an infinite number of pages

But now you're 19-turning-twenty
and the train has finally
come to a definite stop
the tracks have changed its path
and you've reached the end
the epilogue

It's time to move on
move along and grow up
step off that train
and on to the next adventure
close that book
and start a new chapter

Be brave and brace yourself
for there is more to come
beginnings can be daunting
because it also means
saying goodbye to a life
you've lived and loved.
Note to self.
Happy 20th to me.
hello adulthood I don't want to be here
Tyler Atherton Sep 2018
My Teenage years;
Teenage years with people saying 'sit down and shut up'
Teenage years with no one caring
Teenage years with physical abuse
Teenage years with razor blades
Teenage years with no mother
Teenage years with bottles of pills
Teenage years with ****** assualt
Teenage years with suicide attempts
Teenage years with no reason to live
Teenage years spent pining for what was lost.



© Copyright Tyler Atherton
CK Baker Feb 2018
lines cut heavy
on a button stretched brow
thick rubber shoes
and dragon canes
fill out the closet floor
gospel sounds
and narratives (drowned)
apparitions set sullenly
with voices of the past

finger pins
and crosswords
find the favor list
point men and preachers
tip up their tuscany caps
twitching and sign gazing
with spectacles held firm
recurring evening news
and beadledom views

clappers and caregivers
raise a crooked foot
grips and rockers
settle in on the front porch
gertrude grimaces
at an untimely turn
as the gooseberry pie
(with a smidgen of cloves)
chills by the night watch
Ago
I fell in love
Her voice cracked and
I heard my own
Crack

Open
I exploded in
To a story I knew
Was hers and mine
Too

Evie
Led me along
A time and a dream
Riches to rags
Back
Aching
For
Her
...
Did
You Get
The
...
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3306594/rivals/
ˏˋDalPalˊˎ Oct 2014
Here's a thanks to my grade school teachers

thanking my first grade teacher
for getting me into writing

thanking my second grade teacher
for letting me write a longer book than anyone else
and teaching me it was alright to be different

thanking my third grade teacher
for being stern with me
and letting me know that not everyone is going speak to you with sugar coated words

thanking my fourth grade teacher
for showing me to share a little bit of yourself with everyone

thanking my fifth grade teachers
for helping me with the first year of middle school when no one else would

thanking my sixth grade teachers
for probably the greatest year of my life and teaching me life lessons I wouldn't have gotten until now

thanking my seventh grade teachers
for teaching me that being funny and creative is nothing to be afraid about and giving feels just as good as receiving

thanking my eighth grade teachers
for making me feel alright about the scary transition coming up and bonding with my classmates even more

thank you for helping me grow up
Just going down memory lane
ejb Jun 2015
a years gone by since I realized I loved you
and everything has changed

a years gone by
and I finally don't love you

a years gone by
and I realized that maybe I never even loved you at all

a years gone by
and the idea of you still sounds great

a years gone by
but I don't really love YOU

a years gone by
and I've wasted it thinking about you

a years gone by
and I'm no longer filled with hope

a years gone by
and all I am is sad and confused  

a years gone by
and I'm still falling apart

a years gone by
and I'm still just as confused and afriad as I was on day one

a years gone by
and nothing's changed

a years gone by since I realized I loved you
and I still don't know what to do
Vicki Kralapp Dec 2018
I woke upon this winter’s morn,
with Christmas in my heart,
despite the news across the earth,
and grayness it imparts.

Reports of quakes and Etna,
with its crest blown to the sky,
while Central Sulawes’ floods,
chased people for their lives.

In Syria, its people mourn,
the tears and blood they’ve shed,
their civil war, it rages still,
marks eight years with its dead.

The fires that swept our golden state,
left thousands without homes,
its victims living now in tents,
with nothing of their own.

While winds of last year’s hurricanes,
have raged on southern shores,
in Florida and eastern coasts,
all shook us to the core.

The caravan of people fled,
from countries to the south,
have braved too much already,
for a wall to shut them out.

Our country, now divided,
on beliefs we hold too close,
while people spew their hatred at,
those who challenge them the most.

And those who are in power,
cannot see beyond their nose,
to what tomorrow wants from us,
and what our world needs most.

But still, I see the kindness,
and the love in passersby,
when someone gives a hand to those,
who need it more than I.

I see the hope in children’s eyes,
where love and truth prevail,
when treated as tomorrow’s hope,
when peace on earth has failed.

So let us focus on the grace,
so often overlooked,
and make our resolution be,
to share our love on earth!
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Ted Jun 2018
When I was 10, I had a hamster.
Its whole world was in my room,
It's life in the hands of a child.

My whole world was on 10 acres of land,
In the hands of two grown children.
Their hands as reckless as mine.

How does something grow within a cage.
Does freedom have a place in it's mind.
How to acquire the thoughts of freedom,
Of peace.
Will the captured know when the cage door is gone, with nothing holding it in.
How will it even recognize grass underfoot,
A world beyond 10 acres,
and the hamster wheel gone.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2016
~took a walk in the city today,
and this happened in the O'Henry tradition~


the blind man crossing E. 15th,
does not look, nor does he care,
all foes on-coming,
come hither, he dares

his light is red,
yet his cane extended,
he click clacks steadily ahead,
unaware and unbeknownst,
his new step by step sidekick,
Sheriff Natty,
is writing an air poem to a
taxi driver with his
shotgun *******,
a NY gesture of
welcoming *******...

a green light means passage
is a taxi's right,
but my left shoe firm
attached to his bumper,
plus multiple looks mine,
any of which could ****,
his argumentation poses
do somewhat chill...

the sheriff of the city, his motto,
sic transit finger gloria

~

among the sadder sights
of city life
is contrast...

the dark-only coolness
of an Irish bar,
on a bright spring day
when life and love
is bud sprouting
while old white men,
on single soiled solitary stools,
their colored cheeks green
from the reflection of
TV emerald diamond fields,
sipping many pre-game $3
Guinness draughts

around the second inning,
they switch, onto
boilermakers to make
the languid afternoon stretch on,
this I know for sure,
for in the large gilded mirror
behind the bar,
see the barkeep's back asking me,
"what will it be for you
this fine spring day?"


~


next to the bar, in the corner market,
an old man's hands tremble in an old man's way,
in a way I only know thru his testimony,
as he does his daily self-feeding,
his wallet removed, fumbling for two
single soiled solitary one dollar bills.

the shopkeeper's fingers
beat the counter impatiently,
the old man's beer brown bagged,
transport ready, though the old one
rather be next door,
the extra Dollar saved causes
a last minute delay, shaky fingers,
asking for an extra purchase,
a small can of dog food please,
so he can watch the game at home
and share the same meal
with the man's real and best,
and only true spring weather friend

~

the mayor proclaimed as a matter of
public safety, public decorum,
a pack of three or more woman
wearing all black Lululemon athletic wear,
were now banned from being outside after nightfall

later this night, in Carl Schurz Park,
many vamp(ire) voices were heard
singing the lyrics to
"i want to do bad things to you,"
but they staked him only
to a free color reeducation

~

these takes I witnessed,
all or some,
these tales I took
some or all,
from beneath my skin,
where city streets grit
injected beneath my skin
came with the title,
City Boy,
and honored me
with its O'Henry life and lore,
and the vision to believe what is
in my bloodstream
just another true tale of life in Manhattan.com~
published her 4/14/14
Morgan Mercury Dec 2013
Someday your pain
will be beneath you.
Someday you'll see
that all that crying
bloomed flowers
under your feet.

When the sun rises,
I'll see you across the room.
It's been years since I've disappeared
but I did it all to protect you.
Keep you safe from the dark
that follows you and
tries to hurt you.

I ran into the darkness for you,
this was my plan
and now I've returned from the black for anew,
and I owe you a thousand apologies
In the morning,
I'll approach you.
It's been three years.
The story has ended
and I have shed my own tears.

"Don't apologize to me."
Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Sherlock BBC
Jon York Jun 2011
Words of my love for her
come every day,
I just don't know what else to say.
Her eyes show the real  beauty,
that is relected in her soul.

The passion that she shows,
and her beauty as a woman,
with the passing years only grows.

Her love appeared to me
out of nowhere and along
with it came the tears.

They were tears of joy
because we finally found
one another after all
of these years.

We share so much more
then either knew was possible,
and the sixty years that it took
to find her seemed but the
blink of an eye.

Time doesn't matter now,
what is important is that
we are together and every
day that we have is a special
blessing from above.                  Jon York      2011
karin naude Jun 2013
people pretend to care far more than what they really do
we play these mental and emotional games with each other
endangering the self while living an emence high
how ironic
when we crash and burn
we wallow in self pity and expect our victims to run and help
how twisted the human mind can be
400 years of evolution living at the top of the food chain
am i ee Feb 2016
years pass

things that
bothered me

songs that
pierced my heart

songs that
brought only
sad memories

don't,
anymore.
how i kick my
****
for getting rid of you

vinyl and CD
but especially
vinyl
****... why did i let you go
steeping in the memories

songs
music
how fast
they take
us
right back

to those moments
bittersweet memories
with ones we loved
so seemingly deep
or not
such great passion
such great wisdom

don't hurry through
your pain
but don't ever
think you cannot
get through it
if you so choose

sometimes it is time
to check out
who am i
to say

but....
maybe...
another day.....
another moment...
will change how
you feel
what you think.....

i say...
plan it out
be very detailed
but do not be impetuous

take your time

for you have all
the time in the world
all the time in the
universe

for there is no where to go
nothing to do
and
all the time to
get there

if you might
ever ask for my advice
and i caution you
you may not want to
do that

procrastination in
some things
is the very best
hand.....

now what the ****
am i talking about...

i know.
do you????
Egeria Litha May 11
I miss you in a whirlwind
trails of wind whip my skin
left high and dry
volume in my hair
dust in my eyes
sand in the grit
I  miss you in a tailspin
you were just here
tread marks where you been
I miss you in a time capsule
I swallow each mourning
Christian Ek Dec 2014
The promises you have avoided every new year, make them a reality this time around. Its a fresh start, wiping clean the grime off the window.
Procrastination is out that window.
Priorities have entered, therefore, I must accomplish what I've been putting off for so long. A friend told me each person is destined for greatness and each year i want to remind myself of that saying. If your trying to reach above the clouds there is no looking down. Cruising through the city, rocking and a rolling completely satisfied with knowing where i am going, that's going to happen NOW.
I want to be able to breath and smile every day without a worry. These are the best years of my life and I want to keep that going.
It's been twenty long years
Puppet to entertain
Stepping back from it now
I'm in awe; Can't explain
Like that saying is said
Definition: insane
To repeat the same actions
Expect not the same
Final outcome, results
Thinking somehow they'll change
Foolishly I'd go back
And would replay our game
Said each time it's the last
I'm done feeling this pain
Once the moment has passed
My conviction will fade

I am stuck in the past
History here to stay
If unknown will relapse
Help me tie off a vein
It all happens so fast
Find myself in a grave
As I'm dying, you laugh
Your messed up and depraved
But the buck I can't pass
I'm the one who's to blame
'Cause the actions I act
Full control I contain
Simply get what is asked
Have no right to complain
Can no longer react
Must take hold of the reigns

If I can't make a path
Set the forest ablaze
Leaving nothing but ash
Flatten over and pave
Stop this ride or I'll crash
Can no longer sustain
My permission not asked
But that all ends today
A court jester for laughs
No more; I will not play
Jump to first; Had been last
Discontinued the race
Hoisted sail on the mast
Moving forward with faith
Don't let door hit your ***
Time you be on your way
Written: June 21, 2019

All rights reserved.
[Anapestic Tetrameter format]
Weaving itself—the dream-spider:
I see an aged man
Wearing his evening time-machined body,
Walking,
Traipsing upon the jogging track
At a pace which nature observes.

His frame battered,
Pummeled by age's indignation—
Of youth's battle lost.
His mowed grass-like hair showcasing
a white hue patented by age's theme of perseverance.

Beholden to years which he beheld.

His suspenders holding matter elegantly
Despite the invisible mass adhered to his layers
Excreted by years matured;
Increasing his gravity
Making him denser, heavier;
Decreeing excess energy.

Yet he obliges with his compromised gait
in reiterating the verbs of motion.
Taking twice as much time to complete a revolution,
Taking twice as much
As his yesteryears.

In a witness' capacity, I relay:
Everything is a disciple of change,
But your energy...
Your energy remaineth the constant
to the proportionality of age and will.
Jack Jenkins Aug 2018
Time was not the healer
I was promised it would be
just a threadbare bandage

I still love you
hate that I hate you
hate that I love you

Locked away feelings
it's better this way
to have no heart

Love was not a waste
just a taste though
was a price too high

Mind
incoherence but no amnesia
just let me forget it all

Broken body
inflamed and twisted
given to too many anyways

Heart is dead
died fighting the good fight
lost the war

Do I have peace?
At least the lesser half
Yes
//On life//
LexiSully Dec 2016
Oh the fun we had as little six year olds,
Laughing loudly and acting crazy,
Staying up till the wee hours laying on the floor watching Hairspray

Oh the hyper times we had as ten year olds,
Sipping a little too much caffeine,
Running around acting like animals in the front yard

Oh the crazy times we had as twelve year olds,
Not afraid to get down and *****,
Camping and sliding down dirt in the ravine

Oh the terrifying times we had as fourteen year olds,
Living together for a whole week,
Trying to **** each other with words shortly after

Oh the bonding times we had as fifteen year olds,
The darkest time in my life,
Where we cried and I knew we would always be friends

Oh the lively times we had as sixteen year olds,
Both getting our licenses,
Driving around everywhere just to take fun pictures

Oh the tiresome times we had as seventeen year olds,
Sitting in your car before school,
Ranting and laughing about every aspect of life

Oh the amazing times yet to come,
Attending college and growing older,
Still talking and ranting and laughing like every time before.
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