help mrs. muse is gone and my mind is shooting blanks
my friend called inspiration is trying to walk the plank
motivation just married mr lazy
and confidence started acting really crazy
cousin common sense is on vacation out of town
and aunt intelligence is nowhere to be found
uncle rational is at the casino gambling his life away
and my best friend happiness never wants to stay
my neighbor opportunity doesnt knock on my door anymore
and my girlfriend love is really just a whore
my partner pride is always full of himself
and sister sympathy is busy with someone else
grandpa wisdom is smart enough not to say a word
and grandma compassion is seen but never heard
the only friends that ever come to town
is anger and disgust and they always hang around
my high school sweat heart infatuation doesnt really call
and my childhood friend imagination doesnt exist at all
Copyright © John Castro | Year Posted 2012
Love was in the air when he laid eyes on her.
Childhood; elementary and even high school with her.
Walking towards her, he greeted her.
Anxiety spiraled as he hugged her.
Conversation grew deeper as he sat with her.
Wanting to get closer because he was falling for her.
Another woman called pausing the time he was having with her.
Knowing he had to answer; he stepped away and spoke to her.
She stated that something wasn't quite right with her.
She said that her stomach had been bothering her.
Now he's thinking back if he came inside her.
Thinking if she lied to him about her tubes being tied within her.
Does he blame himself for listening to her?
Knowing right from wrong and yet he can't blame her.
Does he blame the devil for allowing him to be intimate with her?
Is he not a human that makes mistakes just like her?
Begging God to make a way for him and her.
Asking God to forgive him for committing the sin with her.
God said, "relax my son, you were only dreaming of her."
Copyright © Pace INK-U-SCRIPT | Year Posted 2012
Primose path leads to the slaughter of American
dream delete pause proficiency with internetty
webbegone after thoughts of yahoo googleyed
interred intracacises that shed benign capsules of
mom entary apple pie delquiences cooling
the soul shopping for the next alias avenue of
pointless me procurement mauling an ongoing
onerous dildodate vis a vie meme.com/me in
an engaging omnipresence of sextext no tact
spell ckeck chicshicshakplak no sense tic tac.
Talk? Walk? Balk? Chalk? Sue? Sulk?
Dinosaur diligence posse with the senior
gestages gestulating, we r forevre 21 and ying yang
dung. Yes, good f ing luck with that!! Look at your
petridish parents and see what box u check to lid close
and abscond with the lost liberal leftovers. That
is you in reverse in a few carnal years after Hilter youth
children decide to screw us as the new
generation which skewer post present parental postulates
to the oldster outhouse outlets so u can be "youf" free. Little
do they notknow as they cumulatively co opulate
that they set the stooge stage for no thanx ahole actions.
The DOS does'nt fall from the Apple tree. Leave it,
love it, learn it while ye may, the kid crisp cosmos of
offspring social dicktates are biting at your heartbeatbit
empty elmo enterprises. Pause parenatal prenatal
preferences prepearing perinatal persons pretasking
postnatal practices, in which you have veno papa preparation.
Think before you For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge and Analyze
your ass-incarnate initiate. Borrow berofe u basterdize,
condomize before u copu culminate, decide before
u dicktate, envision before u envy, fail before u foil,
grasp before u germinate, halt before u hinder,
illuminate before u illerate, jump before u jinx,
kill before u keep, love before u lay, meaning before
moaning, neutralize before u now, obilerate before
u ooops! presence before predicament, quit before
quake, resilience before ridiculous, sanity before
sexusensuality, thinkth before u thumpth, utilize
before u unionize, victory before victimization, we
before want, xx nor xy, zen before zeal. Pocket
passion files fly in the face of ruined reason residules
to the point of pronounced perplextion plagued
prominantly with no recall references to problematic
protocals for near north normalicies in my buckeye
life measures of simpatico silly symbiosis sublime
of mini me monophile mucous made misdemeanor
milktoast memories. Pass go, collect $200.
Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013
YOU’RE THE WEAK ONE
You’re the weak one, you’re a bully. The weak one is definitely
The bully is always the weak one, but your weakness you can’t
seem to see.
So, I’m going to try to shed a little light on your weak and inappropriate ways.
Your weakness began on your first bullying day.
Your false sense of power is not strength at all; it is a cry for help desperately trying to break through.
I actually feel a little sorry for you.
Weak kids like you always seek to find other kids they can dominate.
Bullies do this with vicious words, inappropriate actions, and misguided hate.
Is being a weak bully the banner you want to carry for the rest of your life?
Get rid of the bully banner forever; take up a banner that shows respect,
understanding, and tolerance for others, and always hold that one very high.
Copyright © Al Johnson | Year Posted 2012
How the years seem to flow
More quickly with each passing one
And less, it seems that we get done
With what years we’ve now left
Let this not, though,
Be our shame
Let us use each year the same
As we would use our waning breath
Until at last our earthly death
Does come, one final
by Donna Golden
May 23, 2005 (A few months before my twenty year high school reunion!)
Copyright © Donna Golden | Year Posted 2007
I do not know?
In the childhood home her mother spins her child
Round and round we go happiness seems to overflow
And the childhood goes by; faster, faster
A growing child with so much energy running and having fun
Careless and free he runs across the yard
He is growing up; faster, faster
Only in middle school and already a rebel
Sticking up for a friend and getting in a fight
He has courage but still he runs; faster, faster
High school has come at last
The odd man out he cries for attention
Into depression he spirals; faster, faster
At the high school prom he meets a girl
The hearts beet together and the music beats in their ears
They are falling madly in love; faster, faster
Barely a year and a kid on the way
To work and back the same routine, every hour, every day
A wedding is coming closer; faster, faster
So far a happy life, and a good career
They buy a home and outside he spins his child
Another childhood is going by; faster, faster
His life was long another one has started from it
But now the ambulance move; faster, faster
And his heartbeat fails; slower, slower
Copyright © Evan Zeitler | Year Posted 2010
Oh Lord, why do I feel this way?
My body is fatigued and just wants to lay
On soft pillows under a ceiling fan
Where peace is tranquil and divine.
No pain or stressors are involved.
Just me free of troubles and another’s problems.
Where the world is outside and I am indoors,
To achieve the level of contentment I search for,
This is what I call pure existence.
A bliss of equanimity that refines person.
Is there such quintessence?
Therefore, I must set the perfect example.
Penned March 28, 2015!
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015
Lost in Youth
Rainbows in the clouds, walking on railroad tracks , locomotives up close
Kickball games , I am left footed, spooky reflections in a mirror, running naked
Wooden desks and chairs, kids in the classroom , the little girl across the street
Black and white T.V., Air conditioning , a new blue car, exhaust fumes
The farm, coal fired furnace , warm heating ducts
a collie , a cocker spaniel and a horse named Thunder
Dark starry nights , telescopes , comets and satellites
Northern winters, snow covered fields ,sledding, frozen lakes , and Orion
Camping in fields , mosquitoes bites , quiet dawns and heavy morning dew,
Grandparents ,riding lawn mowers , apple trees , flower and vegetable gardens
Southern Summers , warm muggy nights , ceiling fans ,open screened windows
Screened in porches, ancient toys, , tiny transistor radios, baseball games talking late into the night
Badminton , side lawns , and long rides home
Public pools , icy waters and underwater swims
Trombone , marching band and high school football games
Sleepy classes, friends , lunchroom games, and girls
High school graduation , college and final goodbyes
Copyright © jim joyce | Year Posted 2012
Of all the trials and test this year
A lot of nerves, a lot of fear
By the grace of God I’m here to tell
It all ended up going very well
If life is a journey, school is a maze
A wonderful way to spend your days
So much diversity, so much culture
Feels so good to no longer be a vulture
Picking scraps up off the bone
Heart encased in a block of stone
I simply love being tender and true
Like a billowy cloud in a sky so blue
Floating on air for the world to see
Like a peacock strutting proud as can be
Yet, forever humble and forever true
Eyes no longer red they’re clear and blue
No longer living all tired and funky
I kicked the crap up out of my monkey
Kid’s gather to me like chicks to a trough
I welcome them in I never shrug them off
Which is truly as strange as strange can be
I once would have said, “Get away from me”
“Nothing in me should be considered good”
“You’re looking for a hero, I’m no Robin Hood”
Today, I’m first to school and first in my seat
With exuberance for life, which can’t be beat
With kids gathering to me looking to study
Listening in awe to their gray headed buddy
I’m forever speaking on life and all that it entails
Guiding my younger friends down happy trails
Being very careful to not criticize or judge
You can’t help someone holding a grudge
I tell all the youngsters with a heart so true
I traveled one hell of a road to get to you
I have a single goal before I enter my grave
I want to teach you all how to not be slaves
Don’t let fears and addictions control your life
That’s an endless road of sorrow and strife
Make your dream and grab your star
Let the world see who and what you are
Whatever you do, do it with a smile
Life is truly a gift enjoy it for awhile
It feels so strange to feel so good
We all have it in us to be Robin Hood
I dedicate this poem to all the youngsters
who come over to my house to study. You
know, I never would have dreamed that I
would be considered a good example. It's
truly amazing what the Lord can do in our
lives. The correlation I'm speaking of with
Robin Hood; is that we all have it in us to
take from the bad and give to the good.
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2010
I just wanted to let you know
That I have this love for you...
Although I'm not fast to show
For you, there's nothing I wouldn't do
And I can't control this love
No matter what I try to do...
While I know our lives are separating
Which has got me pretty blue
I just want you to know
How much I love you...
Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved
Oh how I still see you every night in my mind
You're the best girl I feel I'll ever find
And when my eyes would fall upon your smile
My heart would be put on trial
And so if nothing else, I want to let you know
That I'll always love you, that my hearts beat
For you, won't ever slow...
Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved
So I wish you happiness beyond compare
And sorry for the times I couldn't help but stare
Caring, passionate, smart, and loving
From my heart, to you, I'll never be shoving
You will always be in my heart
No matter where we go, how far we drift apart...
Goodbye My Love...
Copyright © Andrew Shannon | Year Posted 2013
My Seasons of Change
1. All the world’s a sky of faded virtue,
2. Though major events have shaped my life,
3. they are constantly replaced with new memories, most soon to be forgotten.
4. One day’s triumph is another’s past glory.
5. Like clouds, people have floated into my life and portrayed themselves in a way to form my character.
6. Some have stayed and some have gone each leaving their distinctive steps in my path.
7. The stars which illuminate the night are like the reflection of my past decisions.
8. Like constellations show the history of people’s lives, mine is not yet run its course, but only begun.
9. Just as God has blessed nature with its four seasons: summer, fall, winter and spring;
10. He has also provided me with seasons that have developed my intricate character.
11. The first is independence.
12. Independence had arrived at the threshold of my future around the time of my late middle school years.
13. Independence came from situations that pushed me to the edge of change.
14. Change was not only a shift in my surroundings but a total alteration in my world view.
15. The perplexing opportunities challenged me to make my own decisions.
16. With my own decisions came discernment.
17. My whole eighth grade year I felt the daunting shadow of high school nudging at my side.
18. After all, my success in high school could set the course for the rest of my life
19. and is it not my obligation to take the gifts God has given me and use them to change the world?
20. That doesn’t happen overnight.
21. The rough bark of an oak tree presented itself as a symbol for the following weeks of transition.
22. High school brought discernment.
23. I acquired the knowledge of why things are right or wrong.
24. Responsibility was the next season in my life.
25. Responsibility is not only gained through trust but opposition.
26. Now that these three seasons have come to pass, they have matured my mind and soul.
27. The last to follow is inevitably, struggle.
28. Seamless struggle has lingered behind mankind since the begining of time.
29. Struggle can be neither ignored nor avoided.
30. As lighting strikes from the sky and thunder roars so is the ever presence of daily trials.
31. Each season represents a pillar which will withstand not only the icy winds of fear, but
32. provide peace and security in my spirit that can never be driven out.
Copyright © Gabriella Mucerino | Year Posted 2013
Dimly lit, I sit
in a Mexican kitchen
near the Tropic of Cancer.
A TV is tuned
to inane noises;
dogs at my feet,
oranges in a bowl
on a table:
a specific place and time.
And I am dreaming --
dreaming of Louisiana
in twilight hours --
dreaming of short winter days and
summer's green, bright mornings.
Country time, mostly empty,
was quiet, seldom interrupted
by human utterance;
but my busy brain
was full of fantasy
The world was new, big,
and yet to be explored;
possibilities seemed endless.
Oak and cypress,
willows, pines -- and magnolias --
were all around, and cane fields
stretched for miles.
The bayous that had always been there
were there still.
Change was slow in coming
and childhood lasted long.
I dream now of Louisiana:
poignant vignettes... dreamy glimpses...
all those slowly fading
of the past...
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2013
I have been praying to God ever since I first understood the concept of a deity. Although I have struggled through life with my acceptance of and belief in the religion I was force fed as a child, the praying has always stayed with me – on an almost every day basis. In some way or some form or for some reason, it seems, I find myself praying to a God I am not sure I believe in.
Over the years, some of the things I have prayed for or prayed against have worked out in my favor. Other things didn’t quite work out the way I had hoped. So, I wondered, was this proof that my prayers are sometimes answered or simply the law of averages? It really didn’t matter, I was programed to pray and so pray I do.
This has been going on pretty routinely for over 50 years; so, imagine my surprise when, for the first time last night, God talked back to me!
I may not get this exactly right, but, in essence, this is what He had to say:
(I am not sure what font to type God’s words in, so I will just keep on with the default.)
“Joe, Joe, Joe. I have been listening to you for all your life. And, whereas I do enjoy your thoughts; your words; and your sentiments; I find it is time for me to respond.
You really do pray a lot for lots of things. Mostly good and humane things. Mostly with a pure and caring heart. But, son, you need to stop doing so much praying and start doing more stuff on your own. I am not up here to make your life easier and to do things for you.
When you were young, instead of praying for that bicycle, you should have been doing chores to earn money towards buying it. You could have cut more lawns, washed more cars, got a paper route, sold lemonade, or many other things other young boys were doing to earn money for the things that they wanted.
When you were in high school and prayed to me to help you do well in your wrestling matches, you should have, instead, been working harder at practice; spent more time on your conditioning; spent more time in the weight room; and studied harder on the art of wrestling.
In college, when you prayed for help on your mid-terms and finals, you should have, instead, spent more time studying and less time partying – I think that is something you already know.
Even when you pray on behalf of others – you should be doing more.
Instead of praying I would help old Mrs. Conner at the end of your street, you should have gotten up off your butt and walked down to the end of the street and looked in on her yourself. You could have offered to go to the store for her, pick up her prescriptions or simply keep her company in her final years.
When you prayed for me to care for the starving children around the world, you should have been volunteering to help out yourself or donating more money towards this cause. If you funneled all the money you spent on unnecessary junk food and extra meals you consumed throughout the years towards charities that help feed and clothe the poor, you could have saved many of the children you prayed that I would save.
Instead of praying that I cure your family, friends and acquaintances that you knew were ill or dying, you should have been visiting them in the hospital or writing them letters or providing assistance to their loved ones to help ease their pain.
Prayer is not the vehicle for you to be lazy and yet gain the rewards. Prayer is not a means to have me do for others what you have the power and ability to do yourself.
I am glad that you talk to me, but you have been granted the ability and means to do so much more by yourself and yet you choose to take the easy way out and pray to me – the God that I know you are confused about. Please, do me a favor, and before you pray, ask yourself, ‘Have I exhausted all avenues available to me to achieve the result I want God to perform?’
If, after you have done everything you can possibly do, then I may be more willing to consider what it is you ask for.
And now, my son, you can wake up.”
I sat up quickly in my bed, sweating and confused. Was I just dreaming? Was that really God talking to me? Then, somewhere from deep inside, either from my conscious or a left-over message from the Almighty Himself, I thought (or heard): “What does it matter? Whether it was God or not – the message is valid and something I probably already knew.”
“Well,” I said to myself, in prayer, “I will give it my best. But, is it okay if we still talk? It kind of helps to give me strength?”
I will take that as a, “Yes”.
Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2012
My younger years - I don't know how
At six and seven folks had a cow!
The journey through the mind begins
Do not think the devil wins!
In middle school has a crash
Doing some things rather rash!
In high school had good grades
Then they dropped - almost like Hades!
Drove and walked many a mile
Just to see myself and smile!
God rescued me and set me free
From a thing called apathy!
Love God's plan - it makes me smile
To think of things that are worthwile!
I might have had to just stop college
But in experience have great knowledge!
Born to help others - don't you see?
I think it is reality!
Copyright © Joshua Lacey | Year Posted 2010
The eraser belonged to me; it was saved by my mother and returned along with many other
childhood items when I became middle aged. I was curious as to why she would save a
stubby old eraser from the primary grades, so she reminded me of its’ one and only use. My
faded memory of that time suddenly became crystal clear, as my mother recounted for me a
watershed episode from my formative years.
I had, as they say these days “acted out in school once again,” this time by writing
unspeakable words in a textbook. Without any hesitation or forethought, I chose as my
repository the teachers’ edition of our English composition book. Quite frankly, at the time, I
thought they were literary gems worthy of publication. That’s why I knowingly inscribed them
there for all to see. Upon further review by more knowledgeable minds, it was determined
corrective guidance and a phone call home was in order.
I was to spend several hours after school that day sweating in contemplative silence as I
erased the teachers’ edition and many other similarly defaced books. It was during this time
of reflection that I ground that eraser down to the stub as it remains today. The last visible
vestiges of my bad expositions disappeared forever that hot afternoon, along with more than
half of the eraser.
Mother then reminded me of what she overheard the Superintendent tell me, as she sat
mortally ashamed and waiting for hours in the hallway outside that sweltering classroom. I
can still visualize her ample adult size, trying in vain to get comfortable, in a sticky one
armed desk made for a 5th grader.
“ John, I want you to try and remember this:
WHAT YOU SAY to others might last with them until THEY DIE.
But regretful WORDS YOU WRITE, the residue of which, will last long after YOU DIE.
So you keep what’s left of this eraser and I hope you never need to use it again.”
*For the "Rub it out" contest, i still have the eraser.
Copyright © John Trusty | Year Posted 2010
She retraces the past to uncover the mystery of the many failed relationships.
The first date seems to generate some fireworks.
This entices her to tempt fate and go out again.
Sometimes there is more of a connection and other times she strikes out.
The third date things get more intimate as more secrets are uncovered.
The next thing she knows he is all over or he might wait one more date to get
Yet in that moment the situation has become too intense for her to handle.
She slaps his arm and flees from the vicinity.
Yet she always wonders what could have been.
She thinks back to why she struggles with a guy wanting physical contact with
She admits to herself she suffers from a low self worth.
In middle school she remembers being called ugly while the guys shoved her
While she has untapped this clairvoyant moment, the rush of it all still
Copyright © marcie wodlinger | Year Posted 2006
in grade school
he heard about it
in high school
he prepared for it
in his first year
he explored it
in his second year
he focused on it
in his third year
he felt part of it
in his fourth year
he graduated from it
Now, he has a job
because of it.
Copyright © Cathy Ncube | Year Posted 2011
P aranoia permeates, etching itself into your fractured face,
A cacophony of constant pressure; life remains a stressful race,
N othing to hope for, no positives like promotion in the workplace,
I nability to love, relationships lift anchor and set sail without chase,
C hildren crushing dreams under mortgages; age grows with disgrace
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
I am a psychology major in school,
I think it is pretty cool.
I can read people like words on a page.
When people smile at me, I can see their rage.
Some say my talents are fake and absurd,
I promise they are not, I can hear the unheard.
I developed this skill as a boy, and it I could not avoid.
In middle school I didn't play with a toy, instead, I read Freud.
I see it as a cursed gift,
I see a person and judge them swift.
A nail biter has generalized anxiety,
because we put too much pressure on them in society.
I am not an optimist,
nor am I a pessimist.
I don't get this half full or empty bit,
I see a glass that has water in it.
Every person's hand that I shake,
I can tell if they are true or fake.
A frat boy acts out in class and gets a suspension,
When he was younger, his father paid him no attention.
In a session, a person asks, “why do I do this?”
then they talk more, as I look into their dark abyss.
Not everyone I talk to is clinically insane,
Their mood is like the moon, it waxes and wanes.
I see things you can't see in plain sight,
the scary part is, I am almost always right.
This is not something that can be learned,
In my DNA at birth, it was burned.
I can have a conversation with a complete stranger,
I just look in their eyes and can tell if I'm in danger.
A small, frail looking boy, I examined with a computer,
I examined him, because he was a school shooter.
I can talk to you and look in your eyes,
then tell you that I saw your lies.
If you don't believe me, lets place a wager,
I promise you will lose to this psychology major.
Copyright © Chris Matt | Year Posted 2010
We Need God Back Into Our Schools!
There are some trying to remove God from this nation!
They do is under; “a church and state separation.”
For many years, God was taught in our schools!
Until the Supreme Court took it away, with it’s rules!
As so many young people look to fill life’s “void.”
They try many things that they think they’ll enjoy!
Rather than having God’s word to obey and live by.
They choose the kind of life that they will die by!
Drugs, sex and violence of many perverted kinds.
Are what is now filling so many young people’s minds!
Read the headlines! Many young people are stressed out!
Yet our government can’t seem to figure it out!
Another shooting… Another act of violence appears!
While any kind of answer seems to have disappeared!
The answer is not more money to solve their problem!
No matter how much the government tries to solve them!
Let me give you answer. It’s called “read the Bible 101!”
It’s time to repent to God the father, the spirit and the son!
Our young people need God brought back into their life!
And allow him to heal their brokenness and strife!
Jesus Christ is the solution for which many are asking!
Only he can give anyone a life that’s everlasting!
Please come Lord Jesus! And heal the wounded hearts!
It’s everyone one of us, that it needs to start!
No court or school can separate God’s love for you and me!
Where will you spend your eternity?
By Jim Pemberton 10/24/13
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013
How to cultivate and remember
Command of the mother and sister
When I repeat my demand for things
They offer me new and ask forget past
And reiterate words forget past is past
Bring smile in face and tends to cater
Good boy doesn't do obstinacy
flourishes habit to new for last
I remember entering in school
Examples were laid always of past
They used to cuddle me to divert
Keep away from habits of large
Reading stories and science of growth
I knew all were dues of past efforts
While I view running road through glass
A commence of brain's effort of past
Difficult to harvest culture of human beings
They turn tongues to allot trues
Forget to past is hardest task
All the time prevails in old glass
Believe these words and muse at learning
To imbibe beautiful build of world
Enter into the rooms of library
And keep searching eyes about past
A refine involvement of human being like us
Always were creative based on history
Invented and developed new new from past
To enrich us not to forget last.
Mother and sister were clever enough
To bring up me as the society required
So they told me to follow as such
Like they learnt from forget past.
Copyright © Deepak Chalise | Year Posted 2016
High School ~
Being asked to search my memory of school 'daze' gone by
is asking quite a lot of me but I promise to give it a try.
A country high school can't compare to a fancy school in a city
but with fewer girls around, boys thought most of us were pretty.
I hope that doesn't sound boastful because I'm not vain
but there weren't many boys I would've wanted for a swain.
I fell in love with the hunky quarterback of the football team.
Oh those sexy eyes, but he only loved me in my dreams.
I was on the track team because I thought running was fun
Usually first off the blocks when I heard the starting gun,
but not always the first to cross the finish line,
so I switched to throwing javelin and I did just fine.
Volleyball, 4-H, school paper, and Library Club President.
No, I wasn't a nerd, but I liked books, and so it went.
Still friends with Elaine and Charlene, way back since first grade
good friendships like the ones we forged will never fade.
High school days were over and college life was dead ahead.
Part of me was excited but the other part was filled with dread.
and then on to college ~
Only hours away, but I was a homesick little country girl.
I really wasn't prepared to be thrown into the great big world.
I felt like Raggedy Ann surrounded by Barbie queens.
What I knew about life didn't amount to a hill of beans.
I concentrated on classes, not always able to pick and choose.
A Freshman's life is awkward, but I stayed away from booze....
well, most of the time I did, but don't let that info get out.
Mom and Dad thought I was behaving, without a doubt.
Football games, pizza and beer, dating all those cute guys
Oh yeah, I went to class because little sister had big eyes.
She was one year behind me and became my roommate,
but Mom and Dad didn't know she got me the guys to date.
In Junior year I had a professor who wrote great poetry
He was the perfect mentor for a would be poet such as me.
I fell in love at least twenty times, but not that special some one.
I had a big wide world waiting for me and I was having fun.
Four years of study and socializing, and a BA next to my name.
I got a job that didn't require what I'd learned, but just the same,
I got an education and a vocabulary of some pretty big words
which comes in mighty handy now that I've become a poetry nerd.
January 31, 2016 Judy Konos' Let's Hear it Contest
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2016
I wake on the sand
Right near the beach
You have yet to awake
Far out of reach
And Daybreak has arrived
A beauty unlike any other
Comparable only to us, girl
And how we love each other
So I gaze up alone
Marveling up at the sky
The warmth of the sun
Drying my eyes
I'm reflecting on us
Oh how each other we trust
I'm just so happy we're together
And I think to myself,
Just as this sun, we'll last forever
Then returning to be with you
I lay again now
Place my hand gently
On your warm tender shoulder
While I think of our lives today, love
And how they'll be when we're older...
I know there'd be no other way
So "I Love You" I make sure I say
To you, each and everyday
Copyright © Andrew Shannon | Year Posted 2013
Man, I remember the thrumming of that last bell of the school year.....
Like a prisoner being furloughed into the warm sun, buzzing of grasshoppers.
Field stickers burrowing into your ankles, joyfully, while you take the wrong way/long way
The sound of whispering gold as your armplane wings dislodge future assaulters of ankles.
I always liked sighs in the summer.....those sweet drones were the tones of freedom.
In the distance you hear Shirley scream as Brad tells EVERYBODY she likes Ralph...
You knew you should be gettin' home, but, confound it, this one brief moment was yours.
There was a sound, like a shell to the ear, of all you had learned, escaping as if under
To thwart it was to stop a tsunami with an umbrella.....ineffectual....unnoticed.
But, also vacant, was common sense; probably why I went Jake's way that day....
Oh, he was there, lurking...lying in wait for my almost clock-work arrival.
Many a day I had screamed a million insults at him as he chased me like Satan,
Hoping "today" wasn't the day he caught up with me.
His exhalations never sounded labored, as if he was letting me get ahead.....
But not today!!!!!.....I JUMP......He LUNGES......and his teeth gain purchase on my seat!!!!
However, I escape....My bottom, that much cooler than it was before and will probably be
Home.......... you see mom in the kitchen, drinking sun tea and waiting for you to arrive....
"So, How was school?"..."Uh, fine, I guess." "What did you learn today?"......."Uh, to never
underestimate the value of Gym Class!!"......"Well," she says, "if you took home economics,
you'd be able to fix up your pants before Dad gets home and sees your underwear!!"......
Parents NEVER respect an Adventurer's near-fatal exploits!!!
Copyright © Jim David | Year Posted 2010
I Wasn’t enough to just be myself
I had to be what you wanted of me
Without any creativity
And a façade for a personality
So I Guess I Just Live a Lie
Just to Satisfy
And surely survive
Your torment spitting opinion
A Semblance of the independence I held inside
No matter how small it let out a cry
I will redeem my pride
And be perfect, free, me
Copyright © Wyatt Loethen | Year Posted 2012
The fondest memory of a young boy’s drive,
Are those things reminding us we are alive,
As when those physics of natural fortitude,
Rise up to the occasion and start to protrude.
Seemingly the notion is quite uncontrollable,
The mind that takes over is quite consolable,
`T was Love gave us the procreating urge,
Assumption is such, why should we not spurge?
As was this friend of mine who’s name was Berg,
With every young lady he saw, wanted to spurge,
He did saddled himself with three kids and a wife,
Which is fine if mature ,but if not ruins one’s life.
Another fond memory of a young boy alive,
Is all those hot rod cars that he use to drive,
One of my dearest friends lost his life, where and when?
High school graduation on Bayou creek bend.
A four in the floor and a fifth under the seat,
Young boys feel like such a feat is quite neat,
Driving while drunk chancy rich price to pay,
Same as being too young when one hit’s the hay!
This story has no glory, though all parts are true,
Parents seriously need to teach children good pursue,
Apple of God’s eye, tooth for tooth, an eye for an eye,
We have not mercy, when it is judgments we cry!
For Contest: Fondest Memory
In Honor of: Frank Herrera
Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2010
Magazine ads and newspaper obituaries
skitter across the streets
like tumbleweed in the desert.
Rims the size of carriage wheels roll by.
Everyone's holsters are filled,
even the children carry pistols.
The schools are ghost towns
but the saloons stay occupied.
This is the Wild, Wild West.
Copyright © Dylan Catalano | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
I know you’re happy,
Guess I’m stuck bein’ me,
Guess I stay missin’ out on chances that I couldn’t see.
But in the meantime,
Keep your head,
And know I’m doin’ just fine.
You know, maybe I’ll get lucky and catch you around sometime.
I don’t mean to cry.
Guess catchin’ up was a bad idea anyways,
Just know if you catch me in the hall, I’m lookin out for those better days,
Better ways to be a better person.
Maybe it’s high time I stop lurkin’ your profile,
Reminiscin’ on the days when I used to make you smile.
So, don’t be too upset when you hear this.
I’m only trying to salvage what’s left of my spirits.
But I guess if you cared,
It’d be more apparent.
Nowadays you can’t trust your friends, your teachers, or your parents.
You’ve got high expectations kid,
Well people disappoint.
And it’s kinda sad seeing how I have to make that point.
Oh and it shakes my joints to know,
Nothing is for real these days,
No one means what they say,
It’s just all part of the show.
So, why even bother to get to know me?
When you throw stones,
And you perceive,
You make judgements,
There could be nothing more to this reality than exactly what you see in front of you.
I am nobody,
An object of translucency,
But in my dreams,
I could paint you a galaxy of words,
Speaking in tongues, writing in verses you’ve never heard.
I am cured,
From a dehydration of self worth.
A place where no one’s jealous grip could rip me back down to earth,
Where I stare at the dirt on the ground,
And think maybe to be underneath wouldn’t be half as bad as it sounds these days.
So as this sphere makes its rounds and stays spinnin’,
The sun will continue to look down and keep grinnin’,
But perhaps I’ve grown to comfortable drowning in linen,
Chained in place to my bed,
With nothing to play with but the soft grey matter in the space in my head,
In the hopes that I’ll weave and thread it back together,
My mother she asks me,
But this time how do I tell her,
I’m way past the point of feeling under the weather.
And the thing is I know better,
But who can really say they take their own advice?
When it’s so easy to put a price on something invaluable,
Too afraid to work too hard,
To reach what’s potential.
See, it’s that kind of detrimental thinking,
That keeps us up on weeknights drinking,
Way past curfew,
Because if your parents only knew,
The sense of doom that grew inside your room,
Patiently waiting for those creeping, solitary thoughts to consume you,
Without a place to hide,
If they only knew,
That’s what kept you up at night,
I’m sure they’d understand,
What it’s like to be held by that ever pressing hand,
With its thumb against your throat,
Wishing with the highest hopes that you’d sooner choke,
Than to be just another kid stoked,
On being the butt of everyone's joke,
Just another drop out reeking of marijuana smoke,
Another baby doll,
A habit of adderall withdrawal,
And while I listen to the girl posted up in the stall next to me,
Throwing up her last meal,
I ponder all the things people would do just to feel something,
To find meaning,
To know they were more than a lifeless puppet,
God manipulating their strings,
So her up chuck and bad luck,
They burn and they sting,
The sloshes and dry heaves,
They only ring out and sing,
JUST ANOTHER TEENAGE DREAM COMIN’ APART AT THE SEAMS
Copyright © Sydney Newell | Year Posted 2016
I am a Virgo, on cusp of Libra.
My heart and mind stays in a penumbra.
My first words were these, so told.
“Me do it me self”, so bold.
I was strange in school, I loved algebra
Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2010
She thought that he’s charming
Her friends says he is so cute
But little did they know
It’s the furthest from the truth
Her mom buys her a new dress
Because he ask her to the prom
But during the fun and laughter
He spikes her punch with rum
She wakes up in his BMW
He,s smiling with a cigarette
A morning she will remember
A night to forget
She can’t stop crying
She lies on her bed
Feeling hurt and disgusted
Suicide thoughts comes to her head
Her mom notice the changes
But she don’t know what is wrong
She use to sing in the church choir
The preacher says she stops coming around
She hugs her mother last night
Then walks out the door alone
And its now early morning
She didn’t come back home
She jumps over the bridge
They pull her body soaking wet
She couldn’t live with the memory
Of the night she can’t forget
It’s sad that her young life was ruin
By the evil that lays hidden behind a smile
Her mother life is shattered
Never knowing what happen to her child
This is happening to innocent girls
All over the world
Taking away their dignity and pride
Sucking the life out of their very soul
Another girl sits under a tree
Reading a book of poem by kaz ishmael
He said “excuse me just got to say
That you have a beautiful smile
She brushes her long hair
Think her jeans didn’t fit to right
His BMW is waiting out side
They are going to movies tonight
Copyright © kasim ishmael | Year Posted 2013