curvy.

Curvy is the word they use when someone

is not exactly fat,

but still is round

around

the edges.

curvy.

Curvy  

is now,

supposedly,

a good thing,

a pretty thing.

something that will get men

and boys to like you.

But still, I am

self-concious,

I am donning

oversized hoodies,

and I am still, after all that,

curvy.

The light of darkness

is above me.

Swirling in the nothingness,

reveling in shadow,

the stars give me light.

I look up.

I wonder.

At the beauty

of the dark.

Someone once said:

Vague words cut, carving

Out these convoluted and

Now broken stories

i. When the world turns upside down,

you know your first priority should be

life, but you can't help knowing

you'll always put being warm

first.

ii. As everybody flees the beast,

you relax into the monster's 

arms, where you know

you'll always find forbidden

warmth.

iii. Racing through thick snow,

your family and friends

watch, gaping,

as there monster opens it's

mouth . . . 

iv. Many teeth close around your body,

and you breath in the rank odor of

warmth, and suddenly

you feel the monster

freeze.

v. Thousands of weapons pointed at the beast,

and you know in your

heart, only one

has too hit it's

mark.

vi. How many people cheered that day?

How many people patted your back?

How many fake smiles did you have too give?

How many nights did you toss and turn in your bed,

wishing the monster would come back?

And then, how unprepared were you,

when it finally did? 

There are all these really beautiful, deep, poems on here but I feel like writing a haiku about mac and cheese for some reason so here goes-

Cheese blending with pasta

A comfort food for rainy days

Homemade is the best.

I don't like when people say

"he/she plastered a smile across their face,"

When they don't actually mean it.

If an expression is plastered across your face

it's fake, like a painting you put in front of head,

Like a mask to cover your true intentions;

Like you're a run-down house disguised with a new layer of face 

Or like a person broken and beaten, hiding the fact they're cracking;

Carved into your very being, like a doll with no will or direction,

Who can only smile;

An empty thing; hollow.

Just smiling is different. 

Hi, this is my first time on this thread... I'm not much of a poet, but in social studies we had to write poems (yes, poetry in social studies. my teacher is quite interesting.) and this is one of mine. It's about the fires in Paradise, Calfornia that happened last year. It's not my favorite poem but it is what it is.

Where flames once danced, 

Now nothing remains

Just a smoldering wreck

In the middle of Paradise.

That’s where my kitchen was,

That was my room.

Hard to believe that this devastation

Was once what I called home.

Am I supposed to stay here?

How do I go on?

I’m surrounded by destruction,

Nothing to hang on to,

Just the memories of what was once here

But I can’t stay here forever

And I know it’s time to move on

Hidden

she pulls the hood lower

lower, lower

trying to cover her face

baggy clothes, tight jeans

how will she avert their attention?

nothing can stop them, it seems

jeering calls, loud shouts

echo across the playground

if only she was deaf

math problems done, mean notes unread

she tries to ignore them

they try to get her attention

taunts

teases

mean words she cant shake off

but in her head

she rides triumphiant

carrying a glowing sword

they cant defeat her,

oh, no

they cant defeat her 

she pulls the hood lower

lower, lower 

trying to hide her smile