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Niobe Nov 2017
I have been many people.

I have been clueless,
thoughtless and shoeless,
I have been a dream spinner,
have been a trophy winner.

I have been sad and I have been lost,
I have been made to pay the cost
of all of the things I have found,
have been the coin tossed to the ground.

I have been broken and on my knees,
have sang to the birds, listened to bees.
I have been small and I have been weak,
have been the rosy hue of my own cheek.

I have been afraid of the world for so long,
I have forgotten what it is to be strong,
But I will always remember when she was me -

         I have been a flower picker and a lover,
         Been the angel under cover,
         I have been hearth-fire and friend,
         Hoped to be something to be proud of,
     And in the end,
I was.

I will always remember
And be proudest of
When she was me.
I cannot keep on going back
To her like this.
I consume nothing but
I reveal tears of pain.
“I regret a stain that
Nothing can erase.”
Wrote this ages ago and now I’ve changed it according to my situation
what is a (has been) doing here
writing outmoded poems
which never of others
will entirely endear

heck there's but one thing to do
get off the poetry site
and let talented penners
entertain you

since it's a dud at the art
of poetry creation
it'll be taking a no hoper's
extended vacation

the fossilized matter must
bore no more in **-hum fashion
tis time to exhibit departing
compassion
Imran Islam Oct 2017
It's been a long day for me
I need to get sleep now, it's very late
I'm tired, I stayed up long enough
to put my clothes out to dry.

My health isn't good
It’s going down day by day
from doing everything .

I try to take care of myself
I can't promise that, it's just hard
It's just hard when I run a house alone
I have no choice nobody else will do it
I don't get a day off, I just get more stuff to do.

That's all about myself I have right now to say
Sure, I’ll tell about my hurt next time
that is if I'm not busy.
Story of someone
Brenda Mukisa Aug 2017
In a culture where reading is corny
Writing is even worse.
How do you explain child hood.
If all you had was a stuck of magazines.
Dreams dreamt.
At so tender an age.
Vision built.
Life looked at at a different perspective.
A beautiful perspective.

How do you explain.
That childhood can be books and stories.
How do you explain that its okay.
To not play in the hot afternoon sun.
To not mingle with the neighbourhood kids.
Because Beckham looks better on that magazine cover.
And you prefer to understand every bit of his wedding.

Is it wrong to grow up so fast.
Is it wrong to know about the world at 4.
And explain it better than the teacher...
Because you've read the story over and over...
Is it wrong to try to understand.
Actual things apart from dodge ball and running.

Maybe knowing is the greatest strength.
A gift open to readers.
Whereas others were born to live.
Others were born to do much more.
To spell life out.
To record moments.
To write down history.
And to proudly read it out......
To remind the world of a beauty they are too busy to record.
Paul Jones Jul 2017
I drift with the flow      that will carry me
a thousand miles far,     a thousand nearer.
12:00 - 02/07/17
State of mind: joy.

Thoughts: from thinking - If you listen very carefully and thoughtfully, directions can be found in everything... the choices we make; a yes or no to the emerging map of our existence, unfolding like the petals of a flower.

Questions: what direction is taken if given?
Kaitlyn Rebecca May 2017
out of the billions of possibilities and endless amounts of ways to describe my affection for you, I could never string together a simple sentence of endearing words that could ever come close to conveying my message as fondly as i feel it.

out of the 3,500,000,000 men that are walking this earth, i could never imagine a life as fulfilling and heart warming as one i could have with solely, and only, you.

out of all of the places on this earth, all 57,308,738 square miles of land, the only place id like to be is laying next to you. I would follow you to the ends of the earth if it meant i could hold your hand in the process.

out of the 10,000,000 colors we can process, you out do the brightness of every single one imaginable. you are more vibrant than the sun's fiery colors, more mellow than the deepest ocean blues.

out of the billions and billions of textures we can touch, not one will ever come close to the euphoric feeling i get when your skin presses on mine. I tingle with every touch you give, even my skin crawls with excitement.

out of the trillions of smells detectable, not one can make me as happy as the smell of your cologne lingering on my clothes or the faint smell of your shampoo as you lay your head on my chest.

out of all of the thousands of tastes i have previously enjoyed, not one could possibly come close to the amount in which i crave the taste of you.

out of all the sounds in the world, out of all the things i wish to hear, your voice surpasses all else. It transcends the birds singing in the morning, and the sound of rain on a metal roof. It outdoes the sound of a fire burning and my favorite songs, it outdoes a cat's purr and the ocean's crash of waves. and of all the possibilities i'd wish to hear from you, "I love you" is really the only words i long for.
Holly Apr 2017
I'm here.
Floating on.
Above the surface.
Not for long.

I'm sin.
That wraps around you in the night.
Makes your heart beat.
Gives you fright.

I'm heaven.
That you breathe in.
Lost in bliss.
Don't forget, I'm sin.

I'm gone.
In a moments time.
The sun comes up.
You're not mine.

Like a bullet shot through your brain.
You become intoxicated with pain.
If fills you up; the taste of "we".
Misery loves company.
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