Remember that poetry is both auditory and visual--make sure your poem both sounds and looks exactly as you want it to before you publish your comment. Structure matters.
Do not reveal your object in your comment (keep it a secret!)
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ReplyDeleteA Symbol Of Me
ReplyDeleteThey are as shiny a polished diamond,
fresh out of the box.
They make a thud against the ground when I run down the pitch.
They are blue and silver.
They cheer me on when I score.
They are sturdy and supportive.
They smell like fresh grass
on a day when the sun shines bright.
They are a symbol of my team,
and the hard work and effort my team puts forth.
They are a symbol of me.
Down To The Last
ReplyDeleteIt leans in tired agony against the coffee colored wall.
A sweet smell of shaving cream, salty popcorn, and the stench of lake water fill my nostrils as I approach, and it gives me the impulse to leave.
The aged, wooden frame moans in protest as it bears my weight.
Weary from time, it cries cotton and soft, snow-white feathers through stretched stitches in the cushions. Its loose fringes tickle my skin in demand for attention; they will not leave me alone.
Running my fingers along the flower patterns, I meet a dozen crumbs embedded in the cloth along the way, their coarse texture on my fingers unwelcome.
I do not regret walking away.
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ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteRide
ReplyDeleteSmells of freshly mowed grass and rain from the morning dew
Linger from sitting in the grass all night.
Small specks of sand roughly press into my palms as I grip the smile shaped handlebars,
And grounded pebbles from the gravel driveway bounce through the sparkling silver spokes.
The cushioned heart shaped seat deflates a bit when I sit upon it,
While my feet are on the sturdy pedals moving around in perfect rhythm.
Constant rolling of the tires over the hot summer pavement leaves a strong acrid stench,
But they also let off a sweet, low hum like a smooth running engine on a new car.
Wind whipping my face from gaining momentum leaves small, stringy strand of hair
In my mouth, tasting of red raspberry and vanilla shampoo.
Sweet Coppertone sunscreen transfers from my legs to the baby-girl-pink parallel bars
As they bump against each other from the occasional rough patch of road.
From a distance, I hear hollers and yells,
Only to be coming from friends telling me to pedal faster in order to keep up.
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ReplyDeleteThe Unspoken Member
ReplyDeleteHe’s cold, internally cold, like sugar cane after entering the body
He’s withered, so easily portrayed by his outside appearance, tattooed with 1970 on his side
He’s part of the family
His smells of tobacco and baby powder fill my nostrils from a mile away
I feel his rumbling beneath my feet and hear sounds like a runner taking a deep breath after a triathlon
The clutter clatter clanking surrounds my ears; deceiving me that Freddy Krueger is by my side
The dumpster is approaching, he is close; I can tell
The chill spirals through my spine down through my toes
He opens, letting out millions of unused toothpicks as if trying to imply something in my direction
He’s there, He’s gone, He’s remembered
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ReplyDelete“Slide to Unlock”
ReplyDeleteEntertainment flows through the wired veins of this
gadget, the backside encases a white crescent apple
logo sized smaller than a penny. Playing on the perfectly
aligned amazing apps fills my every desire especially one,
the Tennessee Vols colored app holds the key to unlock
the art of music; hip hop, R&B, jazz, rap, anything your
ears crave. Index fingers are eager to slide across its
perfectly smooth glass frame simply to unlock the
gadget’s power to engross any person. I am a proud owner
of this enjoyable tool of amusement.
Unity of Music
ReplyDeleteThe varied people combine as one through music,
Whether it is the familiar crackling campfire or the taste of s' mores,
It plays until everyone comes together in unison.
Throughout the day it sits quiet waiting to be played,
once the time comes, its loneliness disappears,
And the quiet coldness is picked up and warmed by the player,
The click of the pick, like the clack of the train, going down its tracks,
Begins to join all of the voices.
After hours of singing and fellowship,
the individuals have now come together and dispersed.
It starts to come to a close, like water flowing over rocks of a river.
Best Years of Life
ReplyDeleteA full size bed rectangle lying on a coffee brown and eucalyptus green striped comforter,
the color of bright neon orange liquid put in a glow stick bracelet for blackouts.
A white Tennessee “T” placed in the bottom right hand corner as if a grandmother carefully crafted it with a heart of love,
the smell of Victoria’s Secret Love Spell perfume and Cool Comfort Degree deodorant overtaking the radiant orange fabric.
Soft to the touch like a Cocker Spaniel’s ears that have just been washed thoroughly, blow dried, and brushed; fuzzy like an antique shag rug passed down from generation to generation.
Reflecting on memories from a few years ago, the sound of Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels speaking in Dumb and Dumber as it plays on a 65 inch black Mitsubishi television screen enters my mind.
It is a calm vivid orange sunrise in a clear morning sky at the beach – all placed in a rectangle form.
Outside
ReplyDeleteRusty, black iron gates,
worn down grass,
white sand and a worn out net,
a circle of concrete enveloping it,
the greenish blue murkiness,
a tower of concrete in the center,
two slippery silver slides,
a faded green diving board,
a random platform,
hours of fun and excitement.
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ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteAged
ReplyDeleteThe leather, once smooth and supple, is now unrecognizable
Contorted flaps extend from either side
The binding holding on by a thread
Scratches and scuffs, each with a story to tell
A rusted gold name plate nailed onto the back
Illegible
Slightly sloping seat, smooth from many trips to the arena
Short fine hairs, still clinging to the yellowed underside
The once gleaming bars have long rusted over
Unable to accept stirrups again
The Perfect Finish
ReplyDeleteYour sweet tooth tingling.
Your stomach growling as if you hadn’t eaten in days.
The bright blistering sun blazing down on your wet, sweaty skin.
Looking for the perfect treat on a summer day!
The metal scoop shining like a silver car in a hot sunlight.
It’s cold feeling like an ice cube numbing your tongue.
The silky smooth taste like milk chocolate chips melting over a double boiler.
The taste of mint as if it was freshly picked from a backyard garden.
The “clink, clink, clink” of your spoon as you reach the bottom of the bowl.
No extra syrups, no sprinkles, no whipped cream or cherries are needed.
The mint can stand on its own.
Cleansing the palette after a hearty meal.
The perfect finish.
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ReplyDeleteSitting there on the bed waiting for someone to use it
ReplyDeleteWith its metallic mirror back and black as asphalt front she can’t help but to use it
It became her best friend in an instant
As she r e a c h e d for it you could see it in her eyes that she wasn’t turning back
Her time is extending hour by hour it was like gravity wouldn’t allow her to put it down
The homework and e-mail’s got bigger but this she did not notice
She finally looks up and the day has meet night
With nothing accomplished she sits there defeated, angry and sad
One motion was all it took to turn the smooth square back into a sandpaper feeling
Everything is gone her time and friend has come to an end
It is what it Is
ReplyDeleteIt intimidates any eye that it catches
From the dominant black and white to the touch of color.
It had its own uniqueness.
It was soft like a fluffy white marshmallow
With a whiff of Victoria Secret PINK body spray on it.
It gave her confidence and calmed her nerves.
“I vow to be” is what appeared on the front.
Linking a loving team of loyal girls that it brought out the best of each
Wanting to reach one goal and it represented that goal.
One step faster, one thought stronger, one effort braver.
Key to Success
ReplyDeleteAlways there for you when you need it the most.
Without it you are nothing, like a dog without a
Bark. The softness never fading. The fluffiness
Getting fluffier each time you head rests upon it.
The colors created creatively, almost perfect. A
Fresh new feeling each time. Getting to know
you, the real you. Feathery. Quiet, oh so quiet,
never loud or disturbing. Wet, but not drowning.
The cotton so fresh, as if it is picked by hand,
every day, just for me. This is my life, it is a
part of everyone’s. Can’t live without it.
"Golden Finger"
ReplyDeleteLike grasping on for dear life,
This never-ending circle,
Takes control of my finger.
It wraps its golden arms
Links at the plate on top
Where the initials are
Engraved with RED
So slightly strict,
Like constricting snakes,
But at the same time,
It is comforting.
It brings comfort to know,
Because it won't
Leave my finger,
Unknowingly,
Of course.
It brings joy
To know it
Will always
Be right there
Slightly tight
Grasping on
For dear life
On to my
Finger.
Motivation through an object
ReplyDeleteConfidence is only one of the things it
Harvests. It is short, only about
Eleven inches long and is colored blue like those
Endless, warm summer days.
Representing something much bigger than itself, a
Unified group of individuals who worked together
Not only to succeed but grow.
Indicative of the mascot, school and
For the team and/or
Organization it represents. Worn by a select few who take pride in
Rooting on their team. This seemingly insignificant garment
Makes a marvelously motivating mark.
The Unknown Creature
ReplyDeleteMoving so swiftly through the crystal clear water
That it makes a gentle hiss as it glides through
A Tail like flowing seaweed
Eyes like onyx gems
Body is an electrifying orange
Lips similar to Mrs. Angelina’s
With scales that glimmer like gold in the sunlight
The smell of a murk swamp fills the air
And lingers like the smell of a atrocious perfume
Truly a mystical creature
The Quickly Disapearing
ReplyDeleteTick tock tick tock
Of a kitchen timer is all I hear.
Then the Sizzle pop pop
Of slowly cooling cinnamon fills my ears.
To smell the subtle sweetness of sugar
Contradicting the zesty, tang of cinnamon.
The chocolate brown cinnamon layered
With the glistening golden patty.
The muffled clink of silverware
And then the quickly disappearing.
The Cycle Constant Life
ReplyDeleteEarly morning, wakes up and runs with glee and happiness,
Flies around his home like a flash of black lightening
Greeting everyone with looks of adoration.
Afternoon sits and waits,
For the return of his adopted family.
Paces back and forth,
Nails ticking on the hardwood floor.
While sadness takes over.
Dusk, Excitement makes his tiny body shake,
His family is home.
He is swarmed with adoration like a sweet embrace
After a elongated day,
It is time for bed.
So the Constant Cycle of Life can occur once again.
I want this to look right
ReplyDeletePLEASE WORK.
You will rock if you can let
me do this.
The frightening object
ReplyDeleteI love to wear it in the all year round
because it keeps warm like a fire place.
The smell is like the original scent of gain
laundry detergent. It is black and white
like an Oreo cookie, and salty sweat after
practice or games. It sounds like the
deafening screams of fourteen/ fifteen
year old girls on the bus. When
people see it they think it’s frightening.
I feel strong wearing it and so I am.
Made in China
ReplyDeleteMiniature skyscrapers are like metal claws.
Eating away, and away, though
The age requirement is undecided.
Heat beats down, causing sweat like aerobics class.
The bitter taste of sweat salt meeting with your lower lip.
They crash like the twin towers,
But are built back up again, by inspiration, and determination.
Though the emotion is full, with its own sort of heart beat,
They have no soul.
One by one,
They lead a path.
"Distracted"
ReplyDeleteSitting there on the bed waiting for someone to use it
With its metallic mirror back and black as asphalt front she can’t help but to use it
It became her best friend in an instant
As she r e a c h e d for it you could see it in her eyes that she wasn’t turning back
Her time is extending hour by hour it was like gravity wouldn’t allow her to put it down
The homework and e-mail’s got bigger but this she did not notice
She finally looks up and the day has meet night
With nothing accomplished she sits there defeated, angry and sad
One motion was all it took to turn the smooth square back into a sandpaper feeling
Everything is gone her time and friend has come to an end
The Best
ReplyDeleteThey sit on the metallic pan
Looking yummy and de-lish.
It’s fresh out of the oven.
Gooey, chewy, and melted
They are the best.
Big or small, round or flat
Soft and doughy or hard and crunchy
Mouth watering, it looks like a Frisbee of buttery goodness.
I take a bite and my taste buds go crazy.
A smile comes to my face as I taste a melted chocolate chip.
And I instantly become happy
Because they are the best.
A beautiful illusion
ReplyDeletePaper tearing, tissue crinkling
nestled inside;
shiny, new, and pink,
soft, smooth satin.
Pure.
Strong, stiff box;
supportive, pliable shank;
Better than a dream.
Soft, clean, lamb’s wool
tucking in her toes for a good night’s sleep.
but they won’t sleep just yet.
they must
Dance
Perform
excitement almost overwhelming, anticipation building
the pain hits
Innocent metatarsals
Blistered.
Battered.
Bruised.
Red.
Smelly.
Sweaty.
Swollen.
Justifiable.
Tolerable.
Almost lovable
For in that fleeting moment,
She had been
flying!
The smell is scrumptiously sweet and fruity
ReplyDeleteThe taste is an explosion of luscious fruit
And your taste buds get a memory of summer with every handful.
The small, deep ocean purple berries,
with their small star shaped cuts from the stem
make the sight of them unbearable.
The feeling of their slightly wet curvy surfaces
And a couple of them rolling off your hand
Make you want to handle them with extra care.
they are a tie dye of deep colors and fruity flavor.