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
I stand at the front of the exam hall, which is in total silence.
Grey desks stretch out in neat rows -
they remind me of gravestones in the local cemetery,
with white faced students their unwilling occupants.
The only sounds that can be heard are the pages being turned over
and the scrawling of pens on the paper.
Exam invigilators creep around the room like mice,
their hawk like eyes ensure no one is cheating.
Suddenly a booming fart breaks the silence -
it sounds like a machine gun that has been fired in short staccato blasts.
We can clearly see the perpetrator as his face is as red as a raspberry!
Muffled giggles are stifled and silence is once again restored.
A true story!
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand. Rolling them over and over and over. Leaving this
reality behind, far behind I stepped into the magic mirror and there I was back in 1959. It
was the same month, November. I looked around and it was the same as I remember it had
been then. Mom looked so young and beautiful and said, "The school bus will be here in a
few minutes." I looked at the calendar and saw that it was November 25th, the day before
Thanksgiving. I said, "But mom, I haven't been in school in forty years." I got this strange
look from her but she didn't say anything. Walking toward the door I caught a reflection of
myself in the hall mirror. I was so young. My hand immediately went to my face and I
stopped and stared at myself for a few minutes. I said, "Mom, can I stay home and be with
you today?" Again I got that strange look from her, then she smiled and said, "Sure, it's
your last day before Thanksgiving anyway, why not?" She and I sit down and talked for
hours. Then I said, "Do you mind if we go next door and visit with Maw Maw and Paw Paw?
I haven't seen them in so long and I've missed them terribly!" Again another strange look
from mom. Next door I saw Maw Maw and Paw Paw as they had been in 1959. I wept and
they all looked at me so strangely. I hugged them and kissed them all and we talked for
hours. Dad finally came home from work and I ran and hugged him so hard. "Dad why did
you have to leave us in June?" Again I got strange looks from everyone. My tears were
falling. I saw Aunt Frances and Uncle Bill who lived beside Maw Maw and Paw Paw. "I've
missed you both for so long." Strange looks again! They didn't understand because to them,
it was just another day in 1959. The day grew late and I knew my time was soon ending. I
got near the magic mirror and mom and dad were standing there so young and healthy. I
said, "Mom I'll see you on the other side of the mirror, but dad, I'll see you another time,
another place." They didn't understand. I stepped back through and my reflection was as it
had been before. Mom was sitting in her chair at age 84. I said, "Mom, do you remember
the day before Thanksgiving, 1959, when I stayed home from school and we spent the day
together?" She said, "Yes, it was so strange that you could never remember anything about
it. It was as though you had amnesia.
Copyright © Marty Owens | Year Posted 2009
Tired of being treated
being stared at
and hiding my braces
under the camouflage
of my colored
with mascara and
as they make
and people are
But where is it?
In my dreams?
I wouldn't know
I don't sleep
I gotta explain
my braces all
and I will
until I die
and I'm tired
and so I'll stop talking
and fall asleep
and wake up
the next day,
Copyright © Gabrielle Zeger | Year Posted 2013
Inhale an envious mask upon your castrated
and prompt this necessary illusion to commence.
Bathe yourself in ego-filled waters till you feel superior
to the gavel, and exit without caution from this perfect
prison called home.
The audience of youthful flattery awaits you, and those
who you hunt,
Anticipate your roar, and contemplate a permanent
Masquerade around the elementary wheels of
transportation, and make sure your crown has no opposition.
Be seated in the rear levels of mischief, and target those
who sit angelically, in frontal silence.
Remember to grin until your devilish smile has a
And act without tears, your greatest show without
Be ignorant to punctual chimes that sing, and lean on
absent temptation for comfort.
Show patience for the perfectly weak; allow them their
steps upon the wax floors,
Give them their fairy tale of safety.
For they are dreamers, and you are their scheduled
Enter classrooms initially through the minds of prey.
Let them introduce the beast without forethought,
Observe their careful whispers among the intellectual
And standby till their guard sleeps.
Lastly, steal the eyes of misery from your contemporaries
as you walk in, and sit among the walls of miseducation.
For knowledge is not the vocation you seek.
Only the beauty of suffering can compensate your lust.
Begin by insulting the eager minds that roam
brilliantly in the front row.
Shout high praises from hell, belittle their flawless
And bear no breaks of mercy until tears fall.
Now shift your heinous gears toward the everlasting
prom queen, your unrequited distraction.
She does not lean towards you, therefore you must
harm her pedestal as well.
Do not hesitate to disarm this glow that will never
infiltrate your surroundings.
Confirm that your motions are approved, by the
council of expulsion,
And give them infamous leeway to imitate in your
Reminisce joyfully over sin that will never turn pure,
as you return home.
Remove the wool from your eyes, and follow sorrow
till it wants no hint of you any longer,
A similar thought entertained by parents you forever
Lastly, if you urge beyond repair, and accept that the
sheep you threaten everyday will never turn,
Despite your purpose,
Then feel free to act as those that previously harmed,
And contemplate a permanent departure.
May god bless these faithful carriers of misery.
Copyright © Jiril Clemons | Year Posted 2014
In one clasps of our hands
Suddenly the murmurings
Are becoming warm and intense
As boldness left behind dumbness
As together now we sing melodious
Songs, caressing. kissing, and playfully dance
Till the wee hours which greatly inspired us.
Even the dawning sun it seems
It was kept at bay
And the stars twinkling and clapping
Witnessing how sweet we have shared
A blissful contrast of a newlyweds honeymooning
A balikbayan to waiting gentle hand
Though jittery they stood together to a
Now, shall we let it go
Vis a vis the doldrums
Of yesteryears which we didn't denied
After the high school years
Autographs, roses and chocolates
Were fads of the late 60's yet to a funny fan
Bestows to a man's erudite love for poetry.
The more it comes straight from the hearts
The constancy of exchange writings of messages and poems
Have become part of life's spontaneity
Even at the middle of the night, we are awaken
Laptops connected, phone conversation
Every little sweet words reverberating through!
Term: balikbayan: Overseas Filipino Worker
Copyright © Dalila Agtani | Year Posted 2011
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
The day I learned,
you were in love with
The day I learned,
none of it was real,
I cried for weeks.
The day I learned,
you never loved me,
I wanted to die.
There must be an iota of feelings,
or you wouldn't have said I love you,
at least on the outside.
Copyright © Isabella Lenniro | Year Posted 2016
I hated homework - what a bore;
And wanted time to play.
I’d tolerate that stuff at school,
But that was during day.
We didn’t have a dog or cat,
But Teacher didn’t know:
Those creatures chewed my homework up,
And I was full of woe.
I’d lost my bag, my homework too,
And wasn’t it a shame,
That all my work had been in vain.
My teacher knew my game…
One day I gave up fighting it -
I saw I was a dud -
And did my homework on the bus…
Then dropped it in the mud!
9th November, for Sara’s Jobs contest
Copyright © jack horne | Year Posted 2014
An IED finds it way
Into the mind of a savage sect
And made good use of the emptiness.
Some school girls are bundled up
From their school compound;
Taken for a noisy ride into Sambisa;
From where they will forget
Their mothers’ voices.
On the tube,
There is a very loud lady
Anathematising the “sharing” of blood
When she is done,
The media is awash with the sound of
‘Na only you waka come?’
As if it is a joke
To snatch young Nigerian girls
From the four walls of their classroom
Into the coldness of the wilderness
To dwell amongst wild beasts.
To learn new lessons;
In bed at night,
My wife talks of
Internally displaced persons;
Slaughtering of citizens
And the role of government in all of these
And the security of our country
And I pulled at the hairs
From around her second mouth
To make her change the topic
And she falls for it and changes the topic.
The white bearded Mallam
On the rickety bus to Yola
Fixes his eyes on me
Like some foreigner
And I feel the fire
All through the trip
And I burn and burn and burn
Like the victims of Nyanya motor park blast
It feels good though to know
What it takes to
Be burned into countless degrees.
But after three weeks
I am back to normal again
I can feel again
My senses are back again
And I can hear again
As the presidential pit-bull
And the black parrot
The one that used to be
In the fourth estate of the realm
Begin to met and dole out
Slippery speeches, speeches you can’t hold
That comes upon our ears
To push out every substance
From our heads
Everything except this load of hopelessness
This bitter bite in our mouth
This unwanted fetus
That no one would claim
And then the hash tags;
The media craze;
The count down
The women in red
And the men that joined
The bring back our girls
The Michelle Obama
The celebrities from across
The noise, the sweat, the blood
The bloody thighs of those girls
Their torn underwear
Their wails, their sobs, their pains
To say the least
The echo, the deafening echo
And how we wave them all aside
And look the other way.
Like it did not happen at all
Like it was just a movie
Directed by a director
That must be a sadist
We sweep it under the carpet
Like our other numerous
But I won’t write another story on betrayal
I won’t write another poem
On how a nation
Could forsake her innocent children
Instead I would write of a country
Stealing, stealing, growing
Growing resilient to emotion;
Becoming many times dead
To any feeling
Tearing its tissues to pieces
And building new ones
That will be senseless
And the noise
And the noise
And the noise.
Copyright © Divine Friday Idiong | Year Posted 2016
the ice cream truck
do you remember in fourth grade when it was the end of the school year?
kids running around in class, volunteer parents planning for field day events, teachers grading tests.
a year's worth of crafts and colorful displays filled the walls like wallpaper.
you can hear singing from the kids in room 4b, ms. mcdonald's class.
the weather outside was a balmy 80 on this june day.
text books, paint brushes, and the obligatory pre-chewed bubble gum filled the desk cavity.
the assistant principle announces something inaudible on the speaker system.
and we are fast approaching the anticipated summer break.
summer. that's when spring lovers finally kiss and the butterflies leave their cocoon.
birds singing and the flowers are saturated with their red, blue, and pink hues.
the last day of school is finally here and the children ride the bus for the last time.
vacations. swimming pools. ocean city. the smell of hot dogs, grass and humidity.
jersey summers are hot. really hot where i grew up. you sweat just by looking out the window.
then one day, the familiar sound of circus-like music faintly approaches town.
louder and louder until everyone knows its the ice cream truck turning the street corner.
the famous mr. softee, or good humor truck, or some local self employed bearded man.
whatever it was, ice cream in all kinds, flavors, colors, and shapes was 25 yards and 25 cents away.
the music kept playing as children seemingly sprayed out of their homes in rapid succession.
a gathering soon followed with parents and children standing all against that delicious truck.
chocolate. peanut butter. vanilla. strawberry. cookies and cream. cookie dough.
sandwiches. bowls. cones. smoothies. sundays. sprinkles. nuts. oh so yummy!
i miss that ice cream truck. i miss those days...
...and i miss you just as much.
Copyright © Joey Foto | Year Posted 2013
A Poem Time Forgot II
Sponsor: Silent One
I saw heaven once again in your eyes,
and felt it in your arms when wrapped
all around me...
Intertwined like barbed wire on a fence,
the comfortable warmth all came rushing
back to me again...
like grandma and her childhood
memories of when her mother would
~You are a beautiful man.
That old familiar scent of breath
came stumbling down my neck,
and I recalled the time you held me
making sure I would remember that feeling
when I am alone.
Whenever away from your strong arms,
I recall it to my mind,
and all seems so new,
like the first day of my life
I am reborn, and...
~You are a beautiful man.
You came to me in friendship,
now the keeper of my heart.
Funny how I never thought we would
end up together.
Guess that's how love works sometimes.
You always see it happen
on those old movies and wonder
if it can really happen that way, and..
~You are a beautiful man.
Thank you for being so real,
true and individualistic,
so full of smiles, laughter and love.
How can there not be any love
in you sweetheart?
A heart without love is like
an ocean without water..
it does not exist.
When in deep discussion,
feeling lucky enough
to listen to you,
or simply sitting in silence,
you show me a love like no other.
So, in return I love you, for...
~You are my beautiful man.
World Literature Class
Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2015
Under her guidance, we stood at attention
forming a row for the national anthem
"Oh Say, Can You See?"...( familiar old words )
We would sing, in unison,
but with avid enthusiasm!
Out of tune, out of rhythm
with childish delusions
that we were suburb!!
As we stood in the room
she would move down the line
with a frown in the lines
of her leathery brow, then would bow
till her ear matched our voice
and her hand would be poised
with two fingers that cued,
keeping time with the tune.
She would grit all her teeth
bite the inside of cheeks
Such a serious task!
it was all that she asked
that we please.."DO YOUR BEST!"
When we mastered, at last
She would gasp, then exclaim
as we sang each refrain,
mixed with tears, she would clap
I remember it now...
Here I stand in this row
with my hand on my heart
as the first strain imparts
Yes, I know those old words...
they'll remain part of me
'til the day that I die
"O Say, Can You See?"...still familiar to me
But no..............I can't see....
There are tears in my eyes...
Resubmitted for PD's Contest: 101 In a row #4
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
It was 1999
2000 green mustang
My sis, always beside her
Landed the same job
Only Mexican restaurant in town
Put gas in our car
Kept our wheels going round
All dolled up
Kissed our parents goodnight
Pretend to go to bed
Cruising feeling right
Idiots with wheels
License to drive
Dr. Pepper and cigarettes
Never felt so alive
Introduced to Mary Jane
She was a silly lady
Laying on the hood of our car
Listening to Slim Shady
Hungry for boys
Just a tease
Looking fly in our prime
The birds and the bees
The dawning of 2000
Life as we knew it, about to end
Eyes met at 12:01
We both began to grin
Cheers to a good year
Twice as old as I was then
Thinking of my sis today
Missing my best friend
Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2015
A light turned dark and gloom
Needing help but was invisible
Buried in the shadows
Dark thoughts consuming
A mission brought upon them
Soon to be completed
Warning signs not to be seen
Being warned but not knowing
Unsuspecting they fell
Into the traps of the dark
Bringing panic upon them
Tried to flee but failing
Terrified but united they stand together
They helped and supported one another
United till the end, but not to forget
Love the broken ones
Copyright © Stefani Nicole Jeppesen | Year Posted 2017
This poem is a farewell piece of advice to a group of students I have taught over the last four years. I do
hope they find the metaphor meaningful and believe that they are the "architects of their own future."
Spread before you is a canvas of hope and opportunity
Waiting to be painted with strokes of what you are and can be
Waiting to be filled with colours that define you and the life you live
Waiting to be stamped with the personality that only you can give
To the portrait of your life, by itself a work of art
A work which, on this day, with vigour you will start
Spread before you is a canvas of vision and desire
Waiting to be sketched with shades of passion and fire
Waiting to be decorated with a story and theme
Waiting to be etched with ambition that is now just a dream
Of a picture whose tone, texture and style
Would have made this work worth all the while
Spread before you is a canvas, empty, yet full of space
Waiting to be stroked with your wit, charm and grace
Waiting to be brushed with strokes daring, vivid and bold
Waiting to be painted with a story that can be told
Of a life whose essence is one of sublime beauty
Of a person who lived his life and did his duty
Of a person who lived life the way it should be
Of a complete canvas that will reflect many a memory.
Copyright © Alister Renaux | Year Posted 2009
My heart sank, her buttery sweet voice
summoning me to the front of the class
I stood there chalk in hand, with my shoulders slumped
The question she asked, for the answer she already knew
She chose not to teach, but rather to embarrass me
I was not a welcome guest, Hallowed Halls of learning didn't seem to fit
I stared emotionless at a blackboard covered in white chalk dust
Laughter filled the room until I could shrink no further
Oh how I wished I could disappear, escape to my place of daydreams
Then the teacher called on one of her special ones
The girl with perfect clothing, a perfect smile, she was the apple of teachers eye
That favoured girl removed the chalk and burden from my hand
Red faced, I returned slowly to my place of shame
I sat there in my wooden desk, with my blue eyes turned down
Perfectly put in my place at the head of the class!
For FJ's "Jaw Dropping Contest"
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016
Ever since the flames licked
my fair pink burning flesh,
nothing in my life has remained the same.
I had to go back in to
save my little brother Chris.
Life without him would kill me,
besides myself I would forever blame.
Even though it’s been ten years,
my face still feels the pain.
Having to go through high school
with a scarred face is just lame.
I’ve got the body of a goddess;
I must admit I’m beautiful from the neck down,
but the hideous burn scars
on my face have remained.
Months after the accident
weeks before school started,
a knock at my door came.
An anonymous donor sent a box
full of beautifully hand decorated
Mardi Gras masks made for only the fairest lady,
that’s the day I got my new name.
Each month a new box of masks
would arrive and I would wear everyone.
I became known as the royal shapely, disfigured lady.
Mardi Gras was my fame.
One night a mysterious white box appeared,
inside rested the most unique and intricately
adorned mask of all. It was a pure white mask adorned
with a delicate French ivory lace, fluffy pure white
dove feathers and shiny white pearls outlined the mask.
White is normally considered lame
but this was breathtaking, nothing plain.
Inside the box was also an
invitation, asking me to attend
the prom with "Masked Bandit" Lane.
I couldn’t believe it! All along it was
my handsome next door neighbor and
Chris' best friend, who had been sending
the ornate masks to me. He was my hero now,
my enthusiasm could hardly be tamed..
Lane had always adored my brother Chris and seemed
to like me too. I always knew he had
a crush on me, but I never knew to what extent.
I rushed over to his house where he was playing
with my brother Chris a heated basketball game.
I hugged him and told him that
I would love to go with him to the prom.
Just between you and me,
Lane and I will always be the
masked King and Queen of Mardi Gras
and forever in love we will reign.
Copyright © Marie Harrison | Year Posted 2010
you pick on the innocent
pray on the weak
leave the unwanted in your dust
harming all in your path
they go home
bruised and beaten
filled with tears
a lump in their throats
still a love in their hearts
yet they have more strength
than you ever will
Copyright © courtney webb | Year Posted 2011
She sat by me in class
She wore glasses
She was beautiful
She crossed her legs
I dropped a piece of paper
I leaned over to move closer
I touched her foot with my leg
I did not move my leg
She did not move her foot
She blushed and pressed it close
She had sweat on her brow
She had a boyfriend
Who asked her to go steady
Who gave her a ring
Who married her
Who will never know
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | 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
C’est la vie, Billy!
His cheeks a deep scarlet,
His jaw tightened in an eerie grin,
He stands, rooted to the spot
While the snot in his nose
Like a long gooey
Slowly comes dripping
Onto his dappled T-shirt,
and his eyes, like dazzling agates,
Fixedly follow the interminable course of
The red rubbery ball
As the projectile
In a deafening clash,
Smashes the headmaster’s office window.
Copyright © Anne-Marie Coreggia | Year Posted 2017
BREVITY – the soul of wit
One was red, one was blue
the pair - a sneaker and a shoe
so he laughed as he retold
the story given him by mother
that his brother wore the other.
John G. Lawless
submitted to – Brevity – The Short Of It – poetry contest
sponsor – Casarah Nance
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015
I can already hear the whispers
Before I open the door
Walking down the corridor
Fluorescent lights beam down
Illuminating, my faults
“Look at her, she think she’s bad, doesn’t she?”
High heels clicking on linoleum tiles
Hips waving regardless of assaults
Lips uncurled into a blank expression
"How the hell am i going to get through this hall
without slappingone of them?"
Head up, eyes open but unseeing the ugliness of it all
It happens everyday
“I can’t believe all those guys like her, what the hell do they see in her?”
“She’s just another whore”
“I heard she’s not as smart as they say she is”
“I knowww, she probably slept with the teacher to get into the A.P classes”
“Yeah, that’s the only way, there’s not possibility of her having a brain,"
"she’s too cute”
“She’s not that cute you know”
“she’s probably just easy, all of those pretty girls are”
“I wonder where she got all her clothes, probably from the 99cent store”
“nah, too good for the 99Cent store, she probably stole it, stupid Mexican”
“Haha, I know, she’s so poor, I bet she stole that purse too, it’s too nice for her”
“She’s so straight-edge, tree-hugging, boy-friend stealing, attention hog..”
“Stupid ugly slut”
Oh PLEASE, they don't even know me
Lord, spare me from these Barbie clones
That spawn over generations
Bleach blonde hair
With purses as big as their bodies
Hollow heads with a button nose
These, Sharks, beady eyed, immense jaws yawning
Try to eat victims alive
In a single gulp
Flock together like vultures mercilessly to consume
Girls worthy of attention
I laugh when I hear them whispering
Are bent on bending
Twisting reflections in the mirror
When really, it’s beautiful
Inside and Out
I know what I am and could care less
About what they think
Keep talking about me, your making me Famous
Movie Star Status, I have what they Want
I let them feed on my inner glow
It’s what attracts them, you know
Until they get so full of me
Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2007
Ankle wrapped, lipstick gleams
Music is heard in the backbeats of faint rhythms
This is just me, and myself
There are people there Lollypop prima donnas
Modern dance bare feet rebelrinas, SpicySalsa Latina Coke Bottles
Loud and HERE hip-hop mamas
Just me, and myself, here
Girls surround the mirror, preening like ugly hens for a rooster
That only sees himself
Lycra glittering tightly stretched, no imperfections allowed In these bodies,
messing up is no longer an option, it never was a option
Just look at the pretty picture they are painting
Dancing, speaking without voices of their own
poetry in motion, they call it
"I just want them to look at me", she says.
Right.. go ahead and dance to the beat of everyone else
Feet fretfully practicing [Fake]French with an American accent
Jeté, pas, Chaîné
S'il vous plaît danser votre coeur hors
Get It Shawty
This is the very last time
Just me, and myself
Lost in whispers of melodies, movement strains and scents of
Righting lefts, lefting wrongs, up and downs to my
very own song
Stage right, upper wing,
Open up the Curtains
Cue and a one, two, three
Spotlight flashes in the eyes to hide all cynical opinions, judgments are blinded
this is my stage, don’t lie to me, this is my stage
There are no lies here
Four, five, six, seven, eight, and a
And All I Wanna Do
Is just slip away
Into my own
Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2007
We've brought him back again, where in the corners lie
the shadows of his youth, a world that passed on by
I watch him walk the floors, that he had walked before
Old planks that creaked, with hurried, carefree steps
once sang with youth, ...now whine with sad regret
Again, the out-of-doors has let itself be clipped
to window images, of which he had recalled
where fond thoughts of youth returned, each spring, and every fall
Framed pictures of windy branches in the sun
We could hardly tell, at first, if the mountains slumbered by
The same old way, as days when he was young
for branches, grown, had crowded open skies
And yet, he smiles, recalling all too soon
how the dust motes, fill the afternoon
with chalkboard clouds, and ink well stains
with musty thoughts, and childhood's sweet perfume
Again, the out-of-doors has let itself be clipped
To window images, of which he can't forget
Carrie Richards 1/30/14 "Historical"
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
I am the wind
as it heavenly sings.
I am the single rose
sitting in a barren land.
I am the the lions voice,
and the partridge voice as they
I am the beam of light
penetrating the vastness
of the worlds darkness.
The secret power is
no secret,the secret
power is me.
I am the secret power revealed
and concealed in greatness.
I am the suns majestic flames.
The clarity of rain drops,
the zest ,to the minds
bland thoughts of boredom.
I am entertainment.
I am the wood pecker,
soaring steadily in the
balmy winds picking at success.
I am the eagles soaring over
sweet allysum, capturing the sent.
Stupendous I am,
Preening my mind with knowledge,
a pen rigged with wisdom,
wisdom speaks beyond paper
as it leaks from the pore of my quill.
I am the potion full of devotion.
My pen rigged with morphine,
killing I hope the pain of my readers
You are no longer lugubrious,
lugubrious you are not.
Healed and fixed upon the first dosage.
I am ,I am ,
I am the poetic doctor,wooing medicine
from the green pastures,
to robe my pen with healing secrets.
I am the nectarines of peach orchards
basting the mouth of pages with sweet words.
Sweet splash sweet splash. I am the sweet taste.
I am the revival of a sun baked raisin, the
revival to a corps laying beneath circling
vultures of the Arabian dessert.
I am the fragments of light circling your heart,a campfire,
the supplier of its poetic aspire.
I am the fridge for poetic dreams,
preventing from expire, raising
heat of poetry soup higher and higher.
Ill never retire until my face
wrinkled and my hair grey wire.
My pen aiming for a writing desire.
On icy roads I keep traction with
hot ink and mental snow tires.
I am a poet wrobed with
creative ink and sapphire.
I am safe gaurding the gates
of a dying world of poetry.
looked upon as a fool why should I stop,
because kids from high school saide iam not cool,
what is their some rule that makes it uncool.
It must be april fools ,safe guarding
your desire is a golden rule.
I am the hope, iam poetrys stool fueling
it with my hand tool full of ink iam the talisman of poetrys gates.
I know who I am and this inspires ME!!!
By: Elliott Bowe
Copyright © Elliott Bowe THe DrUnKeN POeT | Year Posted 2012
Maybe it’s unacceptable
Live a life capable of a true fable
True friends never end
But take you back to where it all began
But hey misery gave us something to believe in
Stress became a greater award as we achieved sin
What could I say? Our savior died on a cross tough as pig skin
Never once cried over the loss
Forbidden fruit, Eden garden
Excuse me, my lord, I beg your pardon
And so what if these medics carry life in a carton
But I ain’t trippin
Simply because this is me until my dying day
Please stop crying, you know I can’t stay
I’m going to be the same until my dying day
Over in that casket is where I’m trying to lay
That’s right until my dying day
True lost souls from the dark side
Forever, we as mortals ride
Peace is nothing, I fend for quiet time
Rebels in riot lines
Previous high school graduates
Symbols of an adjective running toward fate
True personality suffer the privilege of inmates
How could you hesitate to ask
There’s no stranger under this mask
Lonely and unholy, who’s there to console me?
I want to get away, forever restless
You can see my similarities with the ocean
I’m stress less
Because this is me until my dying day
Please stop crying, you know I can’t stay
I’m going to be the same until my dying day
Over in that casket is where I’m trying to lay
My son, my friend
We are but pieces of eternity
Mesh on, mesh off
Even at our best times we’re soft
Who’s to say I’d regret my decision
To lead a sinners life without God’s supervision
On a one man mission
And I know I don’t come around much
Got my palms in reality
Searching for something softer to touch
Whisper in my ear, death makes me blush
And Hell only flatters me
One and one, through matter the winds scatter me
I ain’t trippin, baby girl get off your knees
You’re in the arms of a future me
And I can’t see heaven from a distance
Fire me over clouds like a piston
Marching through blood
But it’s all mud and water to Darkhouse
Stand still let me mark my spouse
Live my life as an outcast
How could you even picture me at my last?
Dear lord show some mercy on my followers
Bless those that swallow dust to follow us
No need to borrow sympathy
Unforgiving sorrow made my enemies envy me
Copyright © Jerry Golden | Year Posted 2006
Sticky gooey sickly.
That feeling you feel,
When all you feel,
Is that miserable sick you've known for years.
These days make you want to just lay down,
Burrito yourself in a blanket,
Sleep for days,
Or read many books,
While drinking your favorite tea in your favorite cup.
If only those days could be so simple.
Then there comes the priorities.
WoRk, WoRk, ScHoOl, LaUnDrY, ClEaNiNg.
Today is definitely a sick day,
But It's not the type of stay home sick day.
I have a headache.
Copyright © Autumn Patrick | Year Posted 2016
Who would have thought the girl with the bright smile and joy enflamed in her eyes
Sits' in the corner crying herself to sleep every night
Who would have thought the boy walking the halls always giving a hand
Wishs' that when he sleeps the gentle light may seep him off his feet
Would would have thought the girl that ended her own life
Was raped, beaten and bullied at both home and school
Who would have thought our childrens children
Have sought to use weapons and let eragancy become them making them a fool
Who would have thought that no matter how we try for peace
We show our children war is the answer
Who would have thought that our guidence
Has be clouded and no longer is pure
Who would have thought teenage life is harder
When your getting bullied or picked on in school
Who would have thought that a person couldn't walk out of their house
With out fear of being raped, shot, or stabed and death is finally at your door
Who would have thought in life know a day's
Death is more near to our lives then ever before
Who Would Have Thought
Copyright © Nicole Arvizu | Year Posted 2013