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Best Poems Written by Allie Rosenthal

Below are the all-time best Allie Rosenthal poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Poem For Children

There is so many stories telling a child how to grow up, the difference between right and wrong. to follow the rules, to see in color, how to stand strong. But still, you are children, with innocence in your eyes! Children who still get surprised when you discover that the butterfly really flies. Little boys who idolize things such as the man who plays with crocodiles, even though we call him the crocodile hunter, he doesn’t actually hunt them, and just like those little boys that idolize him, he just plays… And the little girls that know the disney princesses are wise beyond their years, and recognize the wicked witch of a mother in Tangled, and the different kinds of love in Frozen, and that beauty isn’t just on the outside in Beauty and the Beast. 
	So what else is there to teach you little princes and princesses who will one day rule the world? Because Dr. Suess told you that a person is a person no matter how small, and the Little Mermaid told you that no matter what happens you have to stand tall. So what else is there to teach you??
	Well I have 7 short things to teach you! can you count that high? 1-2-7! ohh oops did I forget something? Oh well I bet you can’t count higher than 11.
	Number one is that parents are people too. Or even better, parents are children, like you and you and you. Parents want to have fun, and even if they tell you they don’t, they do believe that Santa is real. And no matter how you feel, they love you and will always protect you. After all where would Simba be without Mufasa? Because Mufasa saw that his son was in trouble, and he opened his maw, and let out a roar that could be heard shore to shore, and he saved his son.
	Now on to number two, which might sound a little crazy but I swear its the best thing that you will ever do is DO NOT let anyone put you in a cage. Think of Repunzal. She was locked in a tower where she had no power, left to pick the petals off of flowers when all she wanted to do was see the lights. So yes, instead of doing exactly what was right, instead of seeing things in black and white, she let the world get a little hazy and saw things in a nice shade of grey… or gold…. and climbed right out of her cage and ran off into the night with a thief who i guess was technically her Knight in shining armor.
	2 plus 2 equals 4, which just happens to be next. oh no! honestly how could i forget about number three when it’s all about honesty! Aladdin lied to Jasmine and we all know how that ended. so no, lying is not recommended. You probably won’t end up at the bottom of a river with just a lamp with a little blue genie in it, but lets not tempt that trend.
	Now 4, 5 and 6. Four, do exactly what scares you, Five, make it happen, Six, sometimes you just have to tough it out. Do exactly what scares you, step out of your comfort zone. into the unknown. How do you think all these princesses got their thrones?? You have to make it happen! If your paper airplane heart wants to fly away, you have to grow your own wings. Because I can tell you right now, Peter Pan is not going to show up at your window and take your hand, pulling you away to Neverland. Even if you wish on exactly the right star, he’s not going to fly in on pixie dust and save you. You have to do it yourself and make it happen. But sometimes you can’t save yourself so you just have to tough it out. While it’s true that a broken heart hurts worse than a skinned knee, in the moment your skinned knee hurts pretty bad. Pocahontas told us not every story has a happy ending, so you have to tough it out, suck it up buttercup, and pick up your crown. 
	Now the last thing is number seven. Don’t be afraid of 7! I know 6 is, because 7 ate 9, but don’t worry you don’t have to be afraid. What you should be is yourself! Because what you see when you look in the mirror should be exactly what you want to be, not what everyone else wants to see. That is the key to happiness. You don’t need a fairy godmother to make you a dress with glass shoes. Because when the clock strikes midnight and no one else is around, you shouldn’t have to change from what you were to what you actually are. So really, there is nothing else to do except to be you.
	Every story begins with Once Upon A Time, and even though you can’t see what comes right around the riverbend, with a little bit of magic and the right rhyme, never say it won’t end with Happily Ever After…. The End.

Copyright © Allie Rosenthal | Year Posted 2015



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Confessions of An Alcoholic

I used to pretend you were a glass of sweet red wine, a crystal glass full of something that made my head spin. and you promised that you wouldn't hurt me, aged to perfection, pure, with just the right amount of sin. 
They told me to drink you down slowly, to simply enjoy the taste of you tattooed on my lips. But from the moment you first stained my tongue red, the moment your fingers traced my hips, I know I would let you draw maps on my skin.
Until the bottles were all empty, I parted my lips and drank you in. I was a soft, golden champagne, tinted by the red hue of you, Perfection in a crystal glass I thought I called mine.
But you were just they dirty smoke of cigarettes at midnight, the pain of an angry red wine.
People kept telling me that I shouldn't have drank you down so fast, that bottles like you don't last, and you would be gone in the morning. 
I should have listened, I should have cared, but instead I drank you down, because I liked the way you made me feel. Your lips felt like heaven, and I was so high I couldn't get much higher. But then, like a falling star, I came crashing down when I found out it wasn't real.
You were an angry red wine, pour into a goblet made of stone. You held my hand and watched as my lips stained themselves red...
I hope this new kind of vodka will taste as good as you, with your lips like heaven and your eyes straight from hell.
This new kind of vodka burns a lot more than you ever did... and it told me a secret, one that I can never tell.
That I hope this new kind of vodka tastes as good as you, because if I can't find something that will make me the same kind of numb,
I don't know what I'm going to do.

Copyright © Allie Rosenthal | Year Posted 2015

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Skipwreck

When you first said you were in love, we were standing at the edge of the sea, just you and me and the sand beneath our feet, staring out over the water to where the sun and sea meet. 
You said you were in love with a girl who had shipwrecks in her smile, and eyes like a storm. The kind of eyes that every once in a while, would clear into the bluest of skies, and you could fly away right into them. 
I couldn't bring myself to look up at you, so I just looked at the water that kisses my toes, because god only knows that a boy like you could never be talking about a girl like me. But then you said my name, and I swear no one will ever be able to say it the same way you did, and I couldn't stop myself from looking at you and smiling just a bit. And you just had to say the worlds that stopped my heart for the second time that day, "there it is, that shipwreck of a smile..." And in that moment in time, everything was just fine. 
But baby, if only you knew what a shipwreck the rest of me was. 
Because I loved you like the ocean loves the shore, a love that makes you constantly come back for more. And you loved me the way the morning sun loves the dew on a leaf, in the brief moment it's there, the sun makes the dew shine and sparkle like something brand new, but all to quickly, it dries up and is gone.
And now I realize that I could never make you stay. 
Because when I showed you more than my shipwreck smile, and you saw shipwreck that was my soul that had sunk to the bottom of the ocean, you knew I was far to broken... And you left me here, with sand in my bed and a hurricane in my head. 
Because I loved you with every drop of water in the sea, but you never took the time to learn how to swim... Instead you crawled out of the surf and walked down the beach, just out of my reach, until I was left alone with my shipwrecks and sand castle home.
So my blue eyes have turned back to gray, and I'm back at the edge of the sea. But this time there is no you, all there is, is me. And now its bittersweet, that I can feel the same sand under my feet as I dive into the waves and swim away to the place where the sun and sea meet. Maybe I'll find you there, at the place where the sun and sea meet.

Copyright © Allie Rosenthal | Year Posted 2015

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Cigarettes -An Odd Villanelle-

I was addicted to the taste of cigarette smoke and lies,
and the way your eyes matched the pattern of the stars at midnight.
But I was to drugged by your words to remember that poisonous beasts have the most colorful eyes.

They told me it wasn't love, but when I thought I was alone, you muffled my drunken cries.
It wasn't love but I still wrote you a book, pages telling how you set me on fire without a light,
 but you took it and tore out the pages and off my clothes, kissing my skin with razor sharp lies.

You told me that I was the kind of song you wanted to memorize, 
a song where the drum synced with the beat of your heart just right.
You told me I was pretty enough to be a picture, but the flash of the camera always hurt my eyes. 

He swore that he would turn my blood into alcohol and my reflection into someone I didn't recognize,
I wanted out of my skin so bad, I didn't scream when he ripped it apart, to numb to even fight.
Then he took a paint brush to my body, painting me into a masterpiece, singing me sweet lies.

I fell in love with a boy that threw me off a cliff, screaming 'Lets see if she flies'. 
And I fell willingly, while shooting his love into my veins, his drugs that faded my world to white.

Copyright © Allie Rosenthal | Year Posted 2015

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Graveyard On the Hill

1, 2, 3...
white stones as far as I could see...
This is for the boys that never got the chance to grow up. Because they put on that uniform, tied their shoes, kissed their mothers goodbye, and walked out to die.
105, 106, 107...
How many angels flew to Heaven in the middle of the night, with the idea in their mind they would love to see another fight. This is for the husbands that would never get to see their women smile. Because with every step, mile after mile, they marched until their feet bled red and their lips were blue.
5001, 5002, 5003...
Do you think they knew the price of fighting to be free? Fighting for people like you and me. Was it worth it?
10000, 10001,10002...
I tried to count all the little stones, that smiled up at me with perfectly straight teeth. Reminding me of the boys that died with a smile on their face, sent to rest in a place they've never seen... The honor they died for... What did it even mean?
20000, 40000, 60000...
I wanted to run through this sea, to prove the stones really did end. And that the death wasn't just a horror that continued passed the sun rise... How many stones would i have to cut my fingers on just to bleed a drop of blood for every man and boy who died for this country?
100000, 200000, 300000...
I'm standing in the middle of a white sea with a hole in my soul I can't fill. Even with all the dirt from every single grave. How many men could we save? How many boys could we save? How many humans lost their humanity to another that was just shooting into the darkness? How many little letters were delivered... How many tears were cried at home? Was it worth it?
800000, 900000, 1000000...
This is for the boys that never got to grow up.
This is for all the mean who died for us.
This is for them. 
For those who bled to dye the stripes red.
For those who's stones color the stars white.
For those who kissed death with their lips colored blue.

Copyright © Allie Rosenthal | Year Posted 2015



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Skin Like Stained Glass -An Incorrect Sonnet-

My life is shattered pieces of stained glass,
a thousand puzzle pieces on the ground,
under a skeleton of amder brass,
red, blue, green, yellow, breaks without a sound.

I pick up pieces, trying to see me,
but I just cut my fingers on the side.
Now just an obscure view is all I see, 
and it makes me wonder how much I hide.

But its those moments when the rain falls down,
and the rust washes right off my skin.
When I catch a speak at my glowing crown,
and the clear glass lets me see within.

So I put together my stained mirror, 
and swore that I wouldn't break, or disappear.

Copyright © Allie Rosenthal | Year Posted 2015

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Sun and Moon

Do you ever stop to think,
maybe- the Sun is in love
with the Moon.
He wants to glow in her soft light,
those brief moments they have together,
are snatched away- to soon.
The Moon wishes she could breathe,
during the day like the Sun.
To feel the warmth over her pale skin, 
reaching to places in her heart,
her remedy when there is none.
The Sun wishes he could hide in the shadow,
to see the forms of people below.
Because the Moon understand the parts of people
the sunlight doesn't show.
Two loves- so different- 
one filled with fiery passion.
one filled with a love so cold.
A tragedy- so bold.
And in those moments
when they were together in the sky...
they collide and pronounce a love so deep.
A love- that will never die.

Copyright © Allie Rosenthal | Year Posted 2015


Book: Shattered Sighs