A Collection of Short Poems

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a collection of many random poems that I've created. I will continue to update it and add new poems.

Submitted: May 12, 2019

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Submitted: May 12, 2019

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Location,

I want to know where you are.

Location,

I want to know who you are with.

Location,

I want to know who you are.

 

I want to be

Wrapped in your arms,

So I know

That I’m safe,

That I’m home.

----

Persecution:

Black and whites

Are seperated.

Blacks and whites

Are together.

Black and whites

Are now equal.

----

I am an introvert.

That is okay.

I am negativity.

That is not.

----

You were resurrected;

Your dead soul
Now alive.

Don’t know where you are.

Who can you turn to?

Me.

----

That osculator!

So lucky not to be lonely.

That osculator is lucky.

----

You’ve shown perfidiousness.

How rude.

How mean.

How disgraceful.

You winebibber,

You will never see

Me again.

----

 

Our Comforting Desires

 

I suspired cravings of the security of a home.

We’ve gone from place to place.

Mother. Father. Where will we end up?

Tangipahoa, Tangipahoa.

They promulgated that Tangipahoa is

Where we’ll find extensive luck.

We’ve built our home from ground up,

Like the assembling and stacking of red cups.

Here is where we plan to stay.

Here is where we’ll grow up.

Tangipahoa, Oh Tangipahoa!

What an exquisite, tranquil home you’ll be to us!

 

---

 

He/She Is Poem No. 2

 

She is a singer who only runs if her life depends on it.

She wonders about her future and what the school year holds.

Maybe it’ll be a hit.

She hears people murmuring and speaking about

And the trains rolling on their tracks,

Conducted by the conductor pointing out.

She sees her bed most often and her television

On the wall mount.

When she looks into her hands, her phone is there.

She wants to be in the spotlight

And get into a performing arts school

She has a chance of turning out bright.

She is a singer who only runs if her life depends on it.

 

She pretends to be asleep sometimes,

And others, she pretends to be her mother.

She feels what the world would be like if graffiti was allowed,

To be anywhere anyone wanted to

Express themselves in their artwork, loud and clear.

She tends to touch on the greater aspects on life

She worries about the wellbeing of others,

Why people are mistreated,

Why their blood ends up on a knife.

She cries when she knows she’s in the wrong,

When she learns she wasn’t right all along.

She is a singer who only runs if her life depends on it.

 

She understands that there are good people in the world.

She says that people aren’t born evil.

She dreams of falling off a building,

Her sleep now becoming far from peaceful.

She tries to be neat,

To not destroy everything she touches

She hopes to deplete the world’s problems,

To take them all alway.

She is a singer who only runs if her life depends on it.

Her name is Dominique Brown.

 

He/She Is Poem No. 2

 

She is a forgiving, beautiful woman.

She wonders what things would be like if she were

Given a second chance at life.

She hears her children constantly fussing,

Mornings, days, and nights.

She sees peace and tranquility in her

Near future.

She wants her children to be successful,

And obstacles, she wants them to maneuver.

She is a forgiving, beautiful woman.

 

She pretends not to care about the choices

Her children make.

Although inside,

She feels all she can do is guide them

In the right way.

She touches the walls of her newly built home

And she worries that home is where her children

Won’t feel like they don’t belong.

She cries on her own, hoping nobody notices.

And as her tears fall, in her head, she sings an uplifting gospel song.

She is a forgiving, beautiful woman.

 

She understands that all of her problems can’t be solved.

She says “focus on your studies and give your all.”

She dreams very rarely,

Her nightmares often make her dull.

She tries to protect her children and give them motherly advice

She hopes they grow to make her, and my father, proud

And that her advice was suffice

She is a forgiving, beautiful woman.

She is my mother.

---

I keep thinking about my past

I don’t know if I’ll ever let go.

I was as friendly as ever

Way too loyal

And way too vulnerable.

I always ended up broken in the end

Now I’m slowly picking up my own pieces.

I put the back together

With only the support of my parents.

Family betrays and family gets jealous.

I started to shut people out

Who are unimportant, unnecessary.

I am finally finding my voice

And, one day, when I’m strong enough,

I’ll go up to those people

Who didn’t do me right

And stand in front of them.

I’ll look them in their eyes

And tell those people,

Show those people,

How strong I have become.

 


© Copyright 2019 Evoluting Rose. All rights reserved.

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