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That five-seven-five is a scam,
Just nature plus seasonal spam.
A frog in a bog—
Wow! A leaf! And some fog!
It’s a tweet with a syllable jam.

Now limericks think they’re so sly,
With their jigs and their wink of the eye.
But their punchlines grow stale,
Like a bar yuck from Yale—
It’s the dad joke of poetry. Why?

Oh Shakespeare, forgive what’s been done—
Fourteen lines on a love that won’t run.
With their iambic moans,
And romanticized groans—
They're just Tinder swipes dressed as the sun.

Repetition’s the name of its game,
But by stanza three, it’s all shame.
You repeat and repeat,
Till your brain hits delete—
Was it clever, or just all the same?

Acrostics spell TRY HARD down the side,
A format no critic can abide.
Each line bends and breaks,
Just for symmetry’s sake—
And the message gets lost in the ride.

Free verse gets a pass, but just barely—
Too often it screams “Look, I’m arty!”
With no rhythm or aim,
Just vibes and a name—
Like a drunk giving TED Talks at parties.

---

There once was a muse unconfined,
Who laughed at each rule tightly lined.
When pure thought took flight,
It outshone every rite—
For raw truth outclasses form every time.
Your pupils shrink,
then expand,
Boundless void at the brink of consuming
crystals of storm. I withdraw my hand
From above the cyclone: the void disappears,
the sunbeams refract, my
cerebral processes falling
short.
For my best friend, shroomlin shroomster
Conquest.
Soldiers need release.
80 years ago, I,
young lady, Chinese,
would've been a slave—
thrusted deep in the front lines
rotting bodies,         disease, and knives
inside me.             I am
the evidence they must hide.

Lucky me. I watch Japanese TV
and music and teens. I love
Japanese novels and Japanese comics
and Japanese history. Lucky me,
two-thousand-twenty-five,
age fifteen, Chinese.
Comfort women, most commonly from Korea, China, and Southeast Asia, were forced into s_xual slavery to "comfort" Japanese soldiers during the war. They were often sent to the front lines, treated incredibly harshly, and massacred at the end of the war to hide the evidence. I'm not supporting hate towards Japan. The government has already apologized and paid reparation to the comfort women hurt during World War II. This shows humility and is a good example of how atrocities during war should be dealt with. This poem was just a thought I had while studying history and visiting World War II museums.
What if two souls of symphonic stanza
With hearts full of haikus' hope
Met right here on Hello Poetry
By reading what the other wrote.

They'd send messages of meter
With affectionate allusions
This couldn't get any sweeter
Free verses with no conclusions

A poem crafted with emotions true
Was sent to one of the two last night.
It wants to say, "I love you more than words."
But instead reads, "I love the way you write."

They'll figure out in time that they're meant to be together
And I am sure that they'll make the cutest couple(t) ever!
Two poets are almost always meant to be
Especially if they meet on Hello Poetry!
I listen to a voice inside head telling me to stop
Endorphins flying too high
Skull spinning like top
The lights overhead emit such heat I start to sweat
Hopes soaring like birds I increase my bet
Turning gears in my mind squeaking like hungry mice
Afraid looking at the results
Paying ultimate price
Inviting demons to come take a stroll with me and play
Curtains shut blocking outside
Avoiding light of day
When I glance at the clock I see that hours have gone by
Transported to realm somewhere in the sky
Other individuals do not exist
Just me and this shiny machine
Once I begin it's all or nothing
No such thing as in-between
Eyes glazed I stare at the shapes moving through glass
Hypnotized
Expressionless
Even hitting an impasse
People speak sentences to me but I don't even hear
Words don't bother to enter (much less exit) each ear
Where did stack of money disappear to so fast?
Things are shuffling so quickly
Building too vast
And it's true time flies but dollar bills have wings too
When you're in that moment logic just won't do
It's like being controlled by some invisible puppeteer
Unable to change actions despite how hard you steer
You reflect back and feel stupid for your lack of rationality
Mirror revealing your flawed personality
Only noticing problem after it's too late
When speeding too fast to decelerate
And witness the inescapable facts no amount of panic justifies
Obvious yet still somehow takes you by surprise
Now wishing you had not commenced gambling at all
Your wallet was once thick
How did it shrink so small?!
Because it makes zero difference how much cash you win
Always end up a loser when you do "just one more" spin
 Mar 27 From the ashes
ymmiJ
sunday morning shoes
bright and shiny like brand new
pray my soul is too
It helped me get through lonely nights
and gave me courage for a bit
It wasn't until I tried to quit
That's when I learned it bites

The way it fights
Can't turn your back
Always staring
Ready to attack

It's my fault
I should have more sense
I shouldn't have done what I did
Under the influence

I wasn't myself
Now I'm facing the pain
But I will learn to live again
I quit today
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