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Written by Winterreign

X's & O's

Going back to the

Same old relationship

And being on and off

Is like repeating history

All over again,

It's like going back

To the same old leftovers

You've already had a taste of,

It's not going to go anywhere

It's going backwards

Instead of forward,

And nothing will change

And they won't change,

X's and O's

Stay in the past

Where you belong,

I don't want you,

That chapter is closed forever

Do not try and reopen it.

It's over.

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Written by Winterreign
X's & O's
Going back to the
Same old relationship
And being on and off
Is like repeating history
All over again,

It's like going back
To the same old leftovers
You've already had a taste of,

It's not going to go anywhere
It's going backwards
Instead of forward,

And nothing will change
And they won't change,

X's and O's
Stay in the past
Where you belong,

I don't want you,

That chapter is closed forever
Do not try and reopen it.

It's over.
#romance  #relationships  #opinion 
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Written by solipsist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

[white aspens]

blue wood panelling —

raw friction, soft hands,

and sunlight

peering through

white silk curtains.

what rain does not exhibit —

loving in logic,

car lights blinking brighter

through the underpass,

momentary darkness.

daylight rears up —

fully loaded,

knees so prepared

for bloodshed,

such white noise.

so the sea breaks continents —

stay furious at the stern,

calling lovers

to kiss whitecaps

like godless mouths.

and who will remain —

star-struck, hardly daring

to give names to heartaches,

whispering intentions

to white aspens.

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Written by solipsist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
[white aspens]
blue wood panelling —
raw friction, soft hands,
and sunlight
peering through
white silk curtains.

what rain does not exhibit —
loving in logic,
car lights blinking brighter
through the underpass,
momentary darkness.

daylight rears up —
fully loaded,
knees so prepared
for bloodshed,
such white noise.

so the sea breaks continents —
stay furious at the stern,
calling lovers
to kiss whitecaps
like godless mouths.

and who will remain —
star-struck, hardly daring
to give names to heartaches,
whispering intentions
to white aspens.
#romance 
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Written by Winterreign

Taming the beast

She knew if she was alone with a guy, she wouldn't be able to control or tame the beast inside of her..

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Written by Winterreign
Taming the beast
She knew if she was alone with a guy, she wouldn't be able to control or tame the beast inside of her..
#romance 
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Written by Mtrubenfire in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Lost

I lost myself in a dream

But you found me in your soul

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Written by Mtrubenfire in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Lost
I lost myself in a dream
But you found me in your soul
#romance  #poetry 
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Written by Winterreign

The waiting game

I will not

Wait for you.

Because you

Wouldn't wait for me.

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Written by Winterreign
The waiting game
I will not
Wait for you.

Because you
Wouldn't wait for me.
#romance 
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Written by Winterreign

True colours

I rejected you

And your true colour showed.

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Written by Winterreign
True colours
I rejected you
And your true colour showed.
#romance  #poetry  #rejection 
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Written by DSMiffed in portal Letters From Prison

Get Over You

Write a poem about what you’ve learned about yourself whilst in prison.


I came into prison all on my own

And until recently, upon my face was a frown

I became so close to a girl called Leanne

She turned my frown upside down

I was moved from one wing to another

And very quickly I replaced her with another

This girl, she knew I liked her from the start

And out of nowhere she stole my heart

I knew her time was nearly here

For her to go live her life

I thought our love was dear and true

But fact is, I’ll never get over you


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Written by DSMiffed in portal Letters From Prison
Get Over You
Write a poem about what you’ve learned about yourself whilst in prison.

I came into prison all on my own
And until recently, upon my face was a frown
I became so close to a girl called Leanne
She turned my frown upside down
I was moved from one wing to another
And very quickly I replaced her with another
This girl, she knew I liked her from the start
And out of nowhere she stole my heart
I knew her time was nearly here
For her to go live her life
I thought our love was dear and true
But fact is, I’ll never get over you

#romance  #poetry  #love  #LettersFromPrison 
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Write a haiku by reversing the rules as, 7/5/7 syllables instead of 5/7/5 syllables. Rhyme appreciated!
Written by ALifeWitArt in portal Haiku

a delusional fairy tale, and its final act --

A self-propelled tragedy

From her daydream plot

Verses felt by her alone

Thx @creativechaos :)

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Write a haiku by reversing the rules as, 7/5/7 syllables instead of 5/7/5 syllables. Rhyme appreciated!
Written by ALifeWitArt in portal Haiku
a delusional fairy tale, and its final act --
A self-propelled tragedy
From her daydream plot
Verses felt by her alone

Thx @creativechaos :)
#romance  #poetry  #philosophy  #spirituality  #sorryitdoesntrhyme  #CreativeChaos  #haikureversed 
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Written by Shells in portal Poetry & Free Verse

God damn I'm a runner

I could die here.  In the nostalgia of the fall.  

 The cool breeze of an Ohio night and your Eyes.  Glossed and terrifying.  

I watch the breeze as it catches your hair.  You turn your eyes away and bring them meticulously back to meet the force of my drunkened gaze. 

 "I know this isn't real, " you say and you light a Marlboro light.  I laugh at it all and lean back onto the warm hood of your car.  I'm broken and I'm scared and it all seems real when your three sheets to the wind and on a maniac high. 

 But I'm looking at you in the Ohio breeze and your mouth is hungry and your eyes are tired.  

 The better part of me stops. It's a quiet night and I listen to the sounds.  Just your ragged breath and the wind. 

 I pop a Sam Adams and hand it to you.  It's losing the crisp coolness in the two hour drive.  

 A midway mark for the pinnacles of our mistakes.  

I know this is wrong. I'm looking at you and I'm telling myself to turn away. But I'm running tonight and you were willing to meet me in the sprint. 

 I take a step back.  

And I listen to the sounds of the night

I like that you giggle as I drift away and your calm southern drawl is soothing and sweet against my ear.  

 "The children of the night..." you say as you take a drink.  I'm pouring crown into a Styrofoam cup and I'm chasing this Canadian bullshit with a flat diet coke. 

 But it's liquid courage as I switch off my phone and look up at you.  With your pinned out eyes and your drunken laugh.  

 I want to fuck you now.  Here on the hood of this dusty SUV on a backroad in nowhere Ohio.  I want to throw you down onto the clay mud and treat you like a whore.  But I slide next to you instead and I take your drink from your hand and swallow hard.  

 It's easy to fall into the maze of your words but you're quiet now.  Still and confused. 

  You're looking at me with "save me" eyes and I'm debating how to save myself as I light a smoke.  

 It's natural here.  Like this with you. I think and I pass you the pipe with an absent mind.  

 You smile and your lips find mine and I want to fight it all.  

 But I'm on a roll this week and the fuck ups keep coming and so I let myself drink you in. 

  

It's after three and this hotel room is closing in. Your presence is crowding.  Smothering.  Choking me as I load a bowl.  

 I'm watching you in the other room. You're tying off and your eyes are intense and in lust or lov

and I find myself wishing you could look at me the way you're looking down.  

 You're smacking your vein and prepping and I want to crawl away.  

The smell of guilt and weed and sex. 

Overwhelmed I close the door.  

There is no turning back,  I think.  I'm falling to my knees now. Blaming alcohol and speed and fear.  

That's it, isn't it? the fear. 

I'm frightened of myself, I'm frightened of love. 

I'm frightened to fail and you'll never let me down.  

"Hold me, baby. Please? " it's a whisper now and I know the fade has settled in.  

I know I shouldn't. But I run my fingers through your hair and you reach for me and 

we both seem to need the comfort of it all.  

For tonight I'm your god damn white knight baby 

and we're only children in the night.  

So I rest my chin against your head and  nestle into my chest.  I hear your breath quicken and then Slow into a quiet,  peaceful rythem.  

It's easy here.  With you.  The only surprises are the one's you expect

You aren't asking questions.  You needed  fix and a safe place to rest

And  needed the stability of the chaos of you

Resting safely in my arms

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Written by Shells in portal Poetry & Free Verse
God damn I'm a runner
I could die here.  In the nostalgia of the fall.  
 The cool breeze of an Ohio night and your Eyes.  Glossed and terrifying.  

I watch the breeze as it catches your hair.  You turn your eyes away and bring them meticulously back to meet the force of my drunkened gaze. 
 "I know this isn't real, " you say and you light a Marlboro light.  I laugh at it all and lean back onto the warm hood of your car.  I'm broken and I'm scared and it all seems real when your three sheets to the wind and on a maniac high. 
 But I'm looking at you in the Ohio breeze and your mouth is hungry and your eyes are tired.  
 The better part of me stops. It's a quiet night and I listen to the sounds.  Just your ragged breath and the wind. 
 I pop a Sam Adams and hand it to you.  It's losing the crisp coolness in the two hour drive.  
 A midway mark for the pinnacles of our mistakes.  

I know this is wrong. I'm looking at you and I'm telling myself to turn away. But I'm running tonight and you were willing to meet me in the sprint. 
 I take a step back.  
And I listen to the sounds of the night

I like that you giggle as I drift away and your calm southern drawl is soothing and sweet against my ear.  
 "The children of the night..." you say as you take a drink.  I'm pouring crown into a Styrofoam cup and I'm chasing this Canadian bullshit with a flat diet coke. 
 But it's liquid courage as I switch off my phone and look up at you.  With your pinned out eyes and your drunken laugh.  

 I want to fuck you now.  Here on the hood of this dusty SUV on a backroad in nowhere Ohio.  I want to throw you down onto the clay mud and treat you like a whore.  But I slide next to you instead and I take your drink from your hand and swallow hard.  
 It's easy to fall into the maze of your words but you're quiet now.  Still and confused. 
  You're looking at me with "save me" eyes and I'm debating how to save myself as I light a smoke.  
 It's natural here.  Like this with you. I think and I pass you the pipe with an absent mind.  
 You smile and your lips find mine and I want to fight it all.  
 But I'm on a roll this week and the fuck ups keep coming and so I let myself drink you in. 

  
It's after three and this hotel room is closing in. Your presence is crowding.  Smothering.  Choking me as I load a bowl.  
 I'm watching you in the other room. You're tying off and your eyes are intense and in lust or lov
and I find myself wishing you could look at me the way you're looking down.  
 You're smacking your vein and prepping and I want to crawl away.  
The smell of guilt and weed and sex. 
Overwhelmed I close the door.  

There is no turning back,  I think.  I'm falling to my knees now. Blaming alcohol and speed and fear.  

That's it, isn't it? the fear. 
I'm frightened of myself, I'm frightened of love. 

I'm frightened to fail and you'll never let me down.  

"Hold me, baby. Please? " it's a whisper now and I know the fade has settled in.  
I know I shouldn't. But I run my fingers through your hair and you reach for me and 

we both seem to need the comfort of it all.  

For tonight I'm your god damn white knight baby 
and we're only children in the night.  

So I rest my chin against your head and  nestle into my chest.  I hear your breath quicken and then Slow into a quiet,  peaceful rythem.  

It's easy here.  With you.  The only surprises are the one's you expect
You aren't asking questions.  You needed  fix and a safe place to rest
And  needed the stability of the chaos of you
Resting safely in my arms
#nonfiction  #romance  #dotheopppsiteofwhatido 
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Written by ALifeWitArt in portal Stream of Consciousness

Coffee Break

He scored the magnitude of her enthusiasm, but it barely registered. Judging the worth behind her silence, often he found more sentiment in her noise. And walking alongside him on 2x4 bridges, she almost stumbled into the reflected sky. But instead of falling, she was swaddled. Stabilized by the serenity of the clouds passing below, she was able to continue on the path to its end.

"That bird over there --

The one with a red chest:

Listen."

The bird is sitting in the tree behind us, and its chattering prosody is noticeably familiar. Chords of melancholy are released on its song, and I am moved to transcribe the notes that are played.

It is like the twice-removed cousin you saw once at a funeral: nature is drawn to identify through instinctual recognition, but with the frequency remaining just foreign enough, we choose to disclaim it.

But all I can do now is watch you roll your cigarette. Your intention is careful. And it's mindful. It is as though you are handling the delicate petals of a Lotus. [Like the time we discussed the segments of an orange, and how they echo what is sacred.] And as I watch, I consider how many more cigarettes you could eventually roll if you had preserved all of the scraps you have dropped over time.

It feels like an angel is eavesdropping on us. Or maybe it is the sun. Hidden, its warmth is shy today, and I can relate.

There are too many scratchy fibers encasing this coconut skull to effectuate any thoughts with real meaning. I hear the fragments splash in its crowded vacancy, but the nonsensical order sounds like the white noise in a warehouse.

She loved to witness his intelligence. His transcendency was palpable, and she prayed it was contagious.

She moved closer to him on the bench because his mind was peyote and it felt good to get high.

Suddenly, I am flooded with curiosity about a stranger I sat next-to on the bus yesterday. Her ivory skin and red hair reminded me of spoken word. As we shuttled darkly beneath the retiring city, I stared at her feet which were crossed uncomfortably against her weight. She had a bumblebee tattoo on the top of her right foot. I wanted to ask her if she had a reason for choosing the right over the left. And I wanted to tell her that, as a spectator, it seemed she was subconsciously crossing her right over left in an attempt to avoid smashing her bug. But I decided to goof off on my phone instead.

Time is a wave: God jumping in the ocean as we assign linear meaning to its slow-motion burst, but, really, it is all just one Pollock mark on the surface of Earth. And then it is over.

I want you to write a poem about me. I want to see myself emerge from your flesh, and through your eyes. The thought of it excites and frightens me, all at once. I can't help but wonder if the bad will marble the good, or if the good will marble the bad. It really doesn't matter, either way. And it doesn't even matter how the verses unfold, or what metaphors are applied.

I know that you love me.

And you --

Love me in a way that

One-dimensional words

Could never describe.

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Written by ALifeWitArt in portal Stream of Consciousness
Coffee Break
He scored the magnitude of her enthusiasm, but it barely registered. Judging the worth behind her silence, often he found more sentiment in her noise. And walking alongside him on 2x4 bridges, she almost stumbled into the reflected sky. But instead of falling, she was swaddled. Stabilized by the serenity of the clouds passing below, she was able to continue on the path to its end.

"That bird over there --
The one with a red chest:
Listen."

The bird is sitting in the tree behind us, and its chattering prosody is noticeably familiar. Chords of melancholy are released on its song, and I am moved to transcribe the notes that are played.

It is like the twice-removed cousin you saw once at a funeral: nature is drawn to identify through instinctual recognition, but with the frequency remaining just foreign enough, we choose to disclaim it.

But all I can do now is watch you roll your cigarette. Your intention is careful. And it's mindful. It is as though you are handling the delicate petals of a Lotus. [Like the time we discussed the segments of an orange, and how they echo what is sacred.] And as I watch, I consider how many more cigarettes you could eventually roll if you had preserved all of the scraps you have dropped over time.

It feels like an angel is eavesdropping on us. Or maybe it is the sun. Hidden, its warmth is shy today, and I can relate.

There are too many scratchy fibers encasing this coconut skull to effectuate any thoughts with real meaning. I hear the fragments splash in its crowded vacancy, but the nonsensical order sounds like the white noise in a warehouse.

She loved to witness his intelligence. His transcendency was palpable, and she prayed it was contagious.

She moved closer to him on the bench because his mind was peyote and it felt good to get high.


Suddenly, I am flooded with curiosity about a stranger I sat next-to on the bus yesterday. Her ivory skin and red hair reminded me of spoken word. As we shuttled darkly beneath the retiring city, I stared at her feet which were crossed uncomfortably against her weight. She had a bumblebee tattoo on the top of her right foot. I wanted to ask her if she had a reason for choosing the right over the left. And I wanted to tell her that, as a spectator, it seemed she was subconsciously crossing her right over left in an attempt to avoid smashing her bug. But I decided to goof off on my phone instead.

Time is a wave: God jumping in the ocean as we assign linear meaning to its slow-motion burst, but, really, it is all just one Pollock mark on the surface of Earth. And then it is over.

I want you to write a poem about me. I want to see myself emerge from your flesh, and through your eyes. The thought of it excites and frightens me, all at once. I can't help but wonder if the bad will marble the good, or if the good will marble the bad. It really doesn't matter, either way. And it doesn't even matter how the verses unfold, or what metaphors are applied.

I know that you love me.
And you --
Love me in a way that
One-dimensional words
Could never describe.
#romance  #poetry  #philosophy  #spirituality  #culture  #nature 
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