beautiful beaming baby barefooted to show her bashful pink toe nails!
One liners five: Alliteration - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2015
You lay down with a man
For the very first time
Unknowingly conceive a child
That will soon die
And now you can’t figure out why
You didn’t make him wear protection
So you wouldn’t end up pregnant
And to save your body from infection
Now this child who deserved a chance
Will die before become a fetus
You could have taken care of that child
Or given it to family you could trust
But this one night
Of infatuation and lust
Brought about unplanned pregnancy
But you choose not to
Face up to your responsibility
You go and abort this child
Without thinking twice
But you know in your heart
That its just not right
You’re only sixteen
But what does that mean?
You were old enough to spread your legs
And old enough to have a man in your bed
But can’t take care of a child
You had without being wed
So because of your naïve childish ways
Your baby never got to see
The light of one day
Copyright © Lanikka Wright | Year Posted 2006
My pet alligator sits under my feet.
He waits for food to fall while I simply eat.
He likes to chase the ball and bite with his sharp teeth.
His claws are super pointy, and he walks upon a leash.
He’s scaly without baths,
Smelly when not clean.
He’s very good at “sit,”
And trained to not be mean.
He likes the water much, except for when it rains.
And when we’re gone,
All day long,
We keep him in a crate.
My pet alligator is the best pet on this Earth,
I’d never trade him ever, for everything he’s worth.
Copyright © Emily Marshall | Year Posted 2013
6 years old
Not SUMMER TIME YET.
NOT even close
AUTUMN AT MOST
THE PURPOSE OF
Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2015
I almost can't bare it , I keep running for Fun.
This contest is crazy , I wanna be lazy
But I shall keep on running . I'm becoming hazy
I was told I would. I was told it was no Fun.
I decided to try it for the heck of it. It's so crazy.
Now I'm being Lazy and I 'm a little more hazy.
Never I again shall I . Enter a running contest not
Until the far away day. That I shall die. I keep running.
Sweat dripping all over the place. And it's covering my face
Oh Boy what a disgrace. I am almost there. And I of
course made it . Now I shall be even more Lazy
Copyright © mariah malone | Year Posted 2013
Yeah I can get so hyped up with life so high I'm so freaking verbally drunk like a psycho,
Mind so wrong nothing in my vocabulary at that time in my mind can get right though,
A piece of this hate cake in this corrupt dictionary I'm going to have to take a bite though,
Whether the answer is written in hell yeah or heck no,
Im going to shoot through your deer less body like a scoped out rifle,
You just another liar if you say my words aint make your mind shake and awake with a stifle,
Im shooting sideways, up, down, so much I get high low,
I could be telling true lies when you see my fake gun ridden smiles,
I might just shoot self in head because Im getting a little too suicidal,
Im in need of God because I keep skipping planned revivals,
Im reading the rhyme master Shakespeare I aint reading the Bible,
Im playing with word bullets shiny as a burning star struggling for simple survival,
I want people to tell the truth but cant help but keep telling themselves lies though,
Hiidden demons in the book of lifes closet dont tell me how it is because I know,
I too onced played with life like a toy plastic as Tyco,
Im going to stand out in this world like the tower of Eifel,
Im going to bring out all my freaking hidden poetic files,
Im putting word ryhme puzzles together like floor tiles
Im going to do it now not later gator or after while crocodile,
I got little time in life left on the sun dial,
I got but few years or even months left before I face my ultimate trial,
But first Im going to have some fun into the night sun until I get riled,
But family comes first I must start to think of my own seed, my very own child,
I got to stop the ways of living stupid like Im out of hand so wild,
I must drink from the fountain of life like the Egyptians do from the Nile,
Pull my own way out this ****ing trash, this bull *****pile,
I got to stay strong in the mean time because everything in life takes a little while,
Sometimes I dont give a **** about nobody because it feels as if I have nothing to live for, but now I got a child I would die for
So now I must keep living because if I die I know I would leave behind a child behind that I would cry for,
I must walk that road less traveled like a car breaking down on the open road still trying to idle,
Walking amongst greats is going to be my own personal hypo,
I will walk strong in the days that I die in my last UNSEEN MILES......
Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012
Something starts smiles and sniggers with my son and his sister
Sitting silently in the satchel; a swish sweet and savoury snack selection
Copyright © Alexander Seal | Year Posted 2015
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.
Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time--
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
.In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend
Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
Copyright © Diwash Sharma | Year Posted 2015
Father, who never cared
Father, who was never there
Father, who missed it all
Father, who caused me to fall
Father, who broke my heart
Father, who hated me from the start
Father, who missed his chance
Father, who will never see my last dance
Father, who said goodbye
Daughter, who is to strong to cry.
Copyright © Alexis Hogg | Year Posted 2015
Daddy tickles his tiny toes
He tickles them with a tockity tickle as well as a tickle
When his toes get a tickle
With a tockity tickle
They’ve been tockity tickled
When his toes get a tockity tickle
He has a wriggle, a wiggle and a giggle
Then Mummy walks in:
Whos been making you wriggle, wiggle and giggle?
I think Daddy’s been tickling your toes with tockity tickles
Copyright © Alexander Seal | Year Posted 2015
Man child. Mean manacle meaningless.
Painfully pondering potent powerlessness.
What and where and why the worst.
Found fear of failing. This the first.
Faced foe fist for fist.
Gaining gentlemen game gist.
Soon shattered, smoked so surely.
Error eternal, earning effects early.
Different daily dues dutifully dealt.
Alone, angered. Agony and anguish felt.
Many memories meaningfully marred.
Solemn son. Soulfully scarred.
Hiding hurt hinders healing.
Frightened, fearful fettered feeling.
Knowing now not known then.
Damage done. Never again.
Life's lessons learned of late.
Heaving heart hemming hate.
Copyright © Ryan Tyler | Year Posted 2016
Growing through the thorns; strong;
Calling out for help when the days seem long.
When it’s realized that lifes not a breeze,
That only where you go-is what one sees.
Then the hills don’t seem so steep,
The weak aren’t only the ones who weep.
Listen close with ears ready,
Not all have the choice to have a body steady.
Deaf, blind, mentally challenged; it’s touch,
Looking around with meak eyes; what does that word mean? Rough.
Whose to say your glass doesn’t shine,
Cleaned or dirty- it’s all going to be fine.
Some need to hear this,
Others it becomes a hit or miss,
If you have the ability,
Don’t put it up for humility,
You’re capable; learn,
Don’t leave the minutes to count down; to burn.
Who says you can’t; don’t give up,
The potions all stirred up in a cup;
Think of it as a little trip; magic.
Drink up; it’s imagination not tragic,
As the legs move forward; slow and in tone,
As the hands of your own have the ability to pick up that phone,
Calling for the help needed.
Keep the mouth unheated.
Know others have it hard everyday,
Know others don’t have a place to call home ; stray.
This human race keeps on going,
Make sure you’re helping the race with growing,
Growing like a weed,
Another conceives her child like a small seed.
This child may not be perfect; never,
But the eye of the parent it’s their lever.
Their lever at the end of work,
The one they go to when things don’t lurk,
Open up the head,
Put that pencil down-use pen not lead,
Write down the real things that show,
And the truth in the arrow of the bow,
Nothing revolves around one man,
All others just become a fan,
Glissening isn’t what the road leads to,
Maybe you haven’t made the realization; add it; and do,
The withholder of the treasure is you,
Go out and remember what matters; and who is who.
Copyright © Stacey Behal | Year Posted 2012
When all he sees is your
smile during campaigns,
only to get sighs whenever
he cries and complains;
the time you would know
you are niether wise nor
is when that innocent kid
is immersed in insincerity.
You ask for votes with your
ever vibrant voice,
only to leave a cheerful
child with no better choice
than to sleep nude on the
nails of nature at night,
lo, you feed a fair flower
with the force to fight.
When the parliament has
parrots as the main players
and lies lurks in the lips of
Lords, leaders and lawyers,
yet, the one who yearns
and yawn is a youth,
lo, you are taming a tender
tongue to twist the truth.
If the hallowed hut is filled
with hurts and hates,
family and friends will but
have flagrant fates;
bend a budding bloom
with the brooms of
you groom not a garden
but the grave of greatness.
Copyright © Adeleke Adeite | Year Posted 2012
god has an infinite supply ofthis
for his delectation
an infinite mind
to suck his desires
pure evil isn.t he.
Copyright © Anthony Dover | Year Posted 2016
YO I JUST WANNA MAKE LOVE TO YOU
IN A VILLA IN CENTRAL PERU
KISSING' YOU LIKE A SCHOOLGIRL WHO CAN'T CONTROL HERSELF
CAN'T IMAGINE MAKING' LOVE IN THE WEST KEY ABORIGINES
MAKING LOVE LIKE THE PORTUGUESE AMORE
TABLE TOPS TO RUG BURN ON THE BACKSIDE
THE MYSTIC LOOK OF TEARS WELLING' UP IN YA EYES
THE PENETRATION YOU MAKE BETWEEN MY VIBE
CATASTROPHIC, EVOLVING, EVOLUTIONS AS EMOTIONS ERUPT
ENDING ENDLESS ETERNAL EXOTIC ECSTASIES
A BEAUTY BOWING, BOASTING BROADCASTING BENEVOLENTLY
BONDING BODIES BY BUBONIC BONDS
PROTONS POSITIVELY POTENT POISON PENSIVE PASSION
POLLUTING PURE PUSCY WITH PURE PENIS
COMMANDING CONTROL AND COMPASSION
COMPARING COMBINATIONS OF CUM EJACULATIONS
CONSEQUENCE IS CONCEIVING A MYSTERY NOT A MISTAKE
A MAN'S CHILD NOT A LOVE CHILD
MUGGY MORNING MEETINGS FOR MONOGAMOUS MANAJ'TRES OR
MANAJ’TRES IN MONOGAMY
MIND MASTURBATING MENTAL MEMORIES IN THE MIDNIGHT MOON
LIKE EVE IN EDEN THAT ONE LAST BITE KILLED YOUR CURIOSITY
GROOVING IN THE WATERS OF THE WEST INDIES
DANCE WITH ME
FOREVER FIENDING FOR FLOWING FOREPLAY
FAVORITE FLAVOR FUDGE
INTRUDING INTRINSIC INTUITIONS INTO IMPOSSIBLE INTERVENTIONS
INTRIGUING IMPULSES INVITING INVASION IMPROVISING INCISIONS
PRECISELY PLACING PELVIS TO PELVIS
PRIVATE TO PRIVATE
THE PERFORMANCE IN PROCESS PRODUCES PENNY PEOPLE WITH NO
O DID I FORGET TO MENTION ALL THAT MUSHY SHH ABOUT:
YOUR FINGERS IN MY HAIR?
MY EYES GAZING INTO YOURS?
MY HEART BEATS FASTER WITH EVERY TOUCH?
YOU KNOW, ALL THAT JAZZ AND SUCH-HOLLA.
Copyright © Norey Bailey | Year Posted 2006
One day, little Red Riding Hood’s mother told her to deliver a basket of food to her elder grandmother.
She told Red not to talk to any strangers and to stay on the path to old grandmother’s house.
Little Red concurred,
and left hastily.
Not long after her departure, she met a man
sitting under a tree.
He was skinny and twisted and evil
like a petrified tree she had once seen.
She still remembered it.
He lay there, sulking in the darkness,
contorting a caterpillar between his bony fingers,
who had been helplessly inching along.
It was a rather beautiful creature to Red.
He looked up at Red, eyes as black as heroin,
The clashing of dark and light had finally made its debut on this joyous earth.
Come here, he said.
But mother told me to stay on the path and not to talk to strangers.
He set the mangled caterpillar on the cold earth,
picked his gangly body up,
And extended his long curious hand in a rather excited manner.
She dubiously met her hand with his.
Chills ran across her body like soldiers charging in war.
The mood changed.
Red cape, blonde hair, eyes as viridescent as ecstasy.
She runs from the wolf.
The wind dragging his sharp claws through her mangled hair.
Racing through patches of thistles
pricking the bottoms of her soft baby feet.
The feeling of abandonment sets in as the shadows grow closer.
Red! Come to grandmother!
She hears a familiar voice in the near distance.
Grandmother! She calls
Grandmother hovers over her,
She picks Red up by her wrist and drags her across the ground.
The curious cherub notices:
why Grandmother, what big ears you have!
All the better to hear you with, my dear.
Why Grandmother, what big eyes you have!
All the better to see you with, my dear.
Why Grandmother, what big hands you have!
All the better to steal you with!
Grandmother rips off her gown and a petrified tree emerges from the shadows.
Red, submerged in the darkness, lets out one last cry.
A wise old huntsman approaches the path
that Red and her assailant are embarking on.
He hears the cry of the poor child.
He goes running towards the terror-stricken girl
in hopes of becoming a hero.
To his dismay, he finds the girl.
Her wrists bruised,
her hair matted with mud and leaves,
cape -- torn.
Consumed by the wolf, the girl lie there,
no more worries must she face.
There is no hero today, nor will there ever be.
Copyright © Morgan Houck | Year Posted 2016