We sat through sixth-grade classes, we sat at lunch side by side, Laughing through the hallways, taking life in stride. Then came the quiet day you had to say goodbye, And years went rushing past as time was flying by.
Now high school's finally here, the halls are huge and new, And nothing feels as bright as being back with you. Two freshmen starting over, right where we left off, With every inside joke and every shared-in laugh.
You’ve always been the sweetest, a anchor in the storm, And now a brand-new chapter is starting to take form. With a baby on the way, a little light to guide, I know you'll be amazing with that sweet heart inside.
Just yesterday you handed me a gift I’ll keep in mind, My very first real phone, the best I’d ever find. It’s got a couple scuffs, a little beaten and worn, But to me it is a treasure from the day that it was born.
I’ve never had one of my own to text or scroll or call, And having it from you makes it the greatest thing of all. Through every shift and change, no matter where we roam, Having a friend like Avery always feels like coming home.
they were in the wilderness hunting deer with a stick
I know this sounds like a corny joke, but it is no shtick
the hound led his master through brambles thick
while the deer laughed their antlers off, hard and quick
An old hockey stick
Cut off the broken bottom
Tennis ball affixed
A first grader said
“Looks like a thing-a-ma-jig
What do you call it?”
"Black mark remover
Is the name it’s been given"
"That is a cool name"
(You, custodians
Know exactly what it is
And what it is for)
Reflecting on many
affairs of the heart
I could always tell
right from the start
if they were not meant to be
The timing, always off a bit
sense of humor simply uncomfy
on trifles, we'd bitterly disagree…
Why’d I stick around
burying each relationship in the ground
‘Cos I just couldn’t say ‘No’
Fool that I was ~ couldn’t let Love's illusion go
.
'twere whut she
call'd it
az mine
'tward
center
'bove feet's
mine
kneez
'top thuh white sandz
hern point'd
blithely
apprize'n hernself
subject'n sequester'n
subjugate'n
mine stick's
walk'n
crutch
Stick around
Long enough
And you’ll belong
No song though
No set in stone
Alone so
You’ll find it here
No near death
Breath is all
Along you go
No show up yet
No neat next now
But how
You’ll belong
And long after
You can leave
Believe it or not
You’ll long for it
No fit no neat
Near nor
Just “or”
“You'll belong!”
Alex Nelson
Ohio
2019
My paper collects
blue ink droplets
and stick letters
filling the page
with all my feelings
and hurt you've brought me
Walking stick flattens
on the elm's green-gray torso.
He hunkers in place.
.
if'n i could git
thuh one
top
fromg mine
under
breath's wire
tickly
'twould be
lips 'to
stick
yourn cheeks
cheek
mine frenetic
excite'd
sticky
lovez
I always put any unfair people in their places
With words of observation I write or say straight to their faces
When they choose to frustrate me after I give my graces.
Tap tap tapping on the marble floor
A walking doll came in
Tapping out a funeral march
Into the Winter’s air so thin
It paced its way imperfectly
Along the icy stone
A steel clock making deadly noise
In the bright sunlight that hotly shone
Entering into the marble hall
Pale dark erect and tall
Into the lighted corridor of my soul
So close it came its breath touched me
A stroke of death felt instantly
Tap tap tapping on the marble floor
The noise it made was clear
The message it was sending out
Said stay far away from here
This place is a place of coldness
A place of frozen poisoned breath
Politely smiling minds are these
But really a place of deadly death
Across the stony floor I can hear the tapping
I hear it always while dreaming or while napping
No more no more, stop this awful noise
I need to hear the sounds of eternal unearthly joys
I'm looking for my brother
Could he be hiding in the kitchen?
Oops ~ methinks I found him
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2025
Now, Mr. President, stick to your guns
Hamas releases all hostage by this Sunday eve
~ or else Hamas is forever done
First I draw the head
then a line
Next two arms
and some legs
Five fingers on each side
A smile
and eyes
Sometimes I add hair
or a nose
I draw them over
and over
Each different
Each unique
Some are really awful
and some are okay
Most are bland
but every once in a while
one becomes a masterpiece
The walking stick and Elon Musk
I was a galley-boy on an old tankship
that docked in Liverpool for repair
I think it was in May, and I was sixteen
at a second-hand shop, near the docks
I bought a walking stick and happily used it
the stick going ashore to the pub or
to buy fish and chips, unaware of how odd
I must have looked, no one said a word
Coming back on board, it was the second
The officer who said I looked ridiculous, no one
uses walking sticks anymore, you are not
a ing lord
Enter, into my self-contained world, what
other people thought of me
I became self-conscious, and it worried me
What did other people think of me personally
His words brought on a shyness that stopped
My plans for the future
Who knows, I might have become the first
Elon Musk
He has freed himself of what other people
think, or so we believe, but deep down, he
likes to be loved
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.