They are the toughest people you will ever meet
Yet the concern for you cannot be beat.
There watch you every minute of every day
They watch you work and watch you play
They are hard but they are fair
Because the love for you will never tear
They make you eat, they make you sleep
They make you wash your hands and feet
You curse them harshly all the time
Because they make you toe the line
Under their care you are protected
No move you make goes undetected
Though as time goes by things will change
You lose the hate and find it strange
All you feel is pure love
Like a godsend from above
All of the lessons and all of the rules
That you thought were just for fools
All will now seem worthwhile
When you find out that you’re with child
And you look at Drill Sergeant completely calm
And with tears in your eyes say thank you mom

Written by [Thunder Cid]

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The poems do not
Want to be written
Because the poems
Want to
Write themselves.

Anecdotes about assholes
Robbing gas stations
While disguised as
Trees clad in
Flannel.

These things come naturally
To the poems.
They cannot be extracted
Like vanilla,
Or some other cooking product.

Fetus and phoenix
Look the same
When mouthed.
If the world
Were mute,
We’d have all sorts of pregnant ladies
Talking about birds
And old ladies sporting binoculars
Getting in heated debates with abortion groups.

This is what poems would write
If poems could write themselves.

Poems would read their last words
Before they wrote their bodies
Or ate their vegetables.

We should all be poems
And write ourselves,
Write on ourselves,
Without word counts
Or line limits.
We should fill the pages
But not be filler.

This is what poems would write
If poems could write themselves.

This is what we would write
If we knew how to write ourselves.

Written by [Danboo]

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You hate me.
You need me.
You hold me.
You love me.
You protect me.

You yell with me.
You cry with me.
You smile with me.
You laugh with me.

You are there for me.
You are always near me.
You are forever with me.

Written by [Ayame the Snake]

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The Slug King

Barry was a slug most exalted
But very quickly his reign was halted
They found him on the ground
A slimy mound
Barry, it seemed, had been a-salted

Written by [perfumed ignition]


The Life of a Muffin

Roasting, rising and ready to arrive,
The muffin did smile in its warm baking hive.
Till one day a child,
Oh so rabid and wild,
Devoured, quite happily, the poor thing alive.

Written by [Rice]

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Regular Daily Poem updates to resume on Monday!