XII. TO HERA (5 lines)
(ll. 1-5) I sing of golden-throned Hera whom Rhea bare. Queen of
the immortals is she, surpassing all in beauty: she is the sister
and the wife of loud-thundering Zeus, -- the glorious one whom
all the blessed throughout high Olympus reverence and honour even
as Zeus who delights in thunder.
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 12:54 PM UTC
I'll drink your darkness so you won't feel it
I'll bare your pain
Hold my hands high against the clouds
To stop the rain
I'll let it fill me up inside
My ears
my mouth
my eyes
I'll hold it in when you're around
My eyes turn black
while yours stay brown
This is for the best
Selling
you smiles to keep you afloat
Slashing
the floors of my boat
It's right.. It's the right thing to do
I have to keep you above the water
If you drown, then I lose
Let me do this
Share your abyss
Although I'll probably be gone tomorrow...
It's comforting; your sorrow.
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 11:58 AM UTC
feeling feelings is too easy of a feat. not feeling them is the task. how inhumane you have to become to fall out of the rabbit hole that your mother called love. waking with raw eyes, sleeping with a tight stomach. your passions no longer your passions, because let’s be honest, they were the fire in your writing, the voice in your painting, the entirety of your mind; morning, noon, and night. the sun, moon, stars, meteorites rocketing down in your mind over and over again. repeatedly leaving craters all over your body. they left their mark and you can’t seem to scrub hard enough in the shower to make them disappear. you can’t seem to keep up with your shadow, because these days it seems to be standing taller than you. see. you wilt as if you haven’t been watered and you refuse just anyone’s hydration. you need your passion’s water. you need that familiar breath. the steady breath because yours is just too unsteady lately. it’s riddled with threats of tears in your throat. but you don’t cry right? that’s what you told everyone.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 1:24 AM UTC
im too deep for you,
too full of answers,
and you can't handle that.
you keep holding on to all of those questions.
you like the suffocation of drowning in a sea confusion.
all those questions in your lungs.
so ill find someone who wants to swim to shore.
someone who's looking for answers. someone who wants to breath.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
you tell me you're secretive
you write poetry no one gets the privilege to read
you play songs no one gets to hear
you think things that are never spoken
and you feel things you won't let be felt
to you I am an open book
I tell you random little things
I share jokes with you
But you don't even know I write poetry
You have no idea 9/10 poems are about you
But you have no idea the fear of being put down keeps me from showing you
the words that are yours
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
we gone make love in that museum you wanted to go to
hang them legs up like art on the wall
stroke and stroke, until your water colors fall
i wanna blow on your skin until the paint dries
i wanna frame myself in your eyes
put you on display for the world to view..
..admire and critique
have them speechless with your physique
and those eyes, girl those eyes...
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
i want you to stroke and dip your brushes onto my canvas until my symphony crescendos into the twilight zone of our love.
and if your saxophone needs blowing i'll sweep all the air from my lungs.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 12:26 AM UTC
lust is just love that dies
we tend to want things that flood our eyes
our hurt is just a price we pay
looking at the moon and wishing for day
in an abyss of sweet nothings we fall deep
sacrificing oxygen and sleep
for a mere glimpse of what love could be
things aren't so tender when they end
just bitter unseasoned and bland
a heap of limbs at war with each other
lost souls looking to discover
searching for love and a source of heat
the vicious cycle of hatred and deceit
turmoil boils and wrath will grow
but the fire extinguished long ago
when the mind realizes it's been famished
not a soul in the world cared to scan it
of feelings or memories or wants
or opinions or strengths or thoughts
the enemy, loneliness, born
from lack of someone to adorn
a naive love disguised as scorn
from its battered scalp grow horns
an angel in disguise it became
call it cold.. frigid.. inane..
fallen angel beseech the stars above
for the slightest symbol of love
and to no avail, no answer
her kisses could create no dammer
she dared not bind to another
for the sake of being smothered
with false ardor and affection
her ice as her protection
to shield her ***** from the swelter
that asked of no one near to help her
the delusive words of many have tried
the only thing saving her was her spirit that died
this barrier tall, affirmative with action
hurt anyone near it with ample satisfaction
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC