Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Eve Estelle Dec 2018
Forgive yourself and fellows,
When footing has been lost;
One's fall from grace is torment,
The second has a cost;
Of flesh and blood you still remain,
Yet own your every err;
Accept the past you cannot change,
Confess that you were there;
Set right the things that tend to slip
Post-stumble, fall, or break;
Mend the wounds with loving hands,
That none are left to ache;
Lucid men are forged in fire,
Adepts are those who learn --
Without trial, sans blunder,
Success is not of our concern;
Decay takes to dusty wings,
But is down truly ever out?
Arise, for failure comes to those,
Only those, who sit and lie in doubt;
Certain words are intended to be bolded: Forgive [first line], Own [sixth line], Set right [ninth line], Learn [14th line], and Forthward [final line].
Eve Estelle Mar 2018
Glean the knowledge from the scene;
A tale written, read before,
Something's wrong, but something more --
Fear the nightmare, fear the dream,
Nothing stops at this machine;

Grasping rule yet leading blind,
Law will bind no bleeding mind
Intent on death, and peddled lines
Stray from course to fell the fruits,
As Red *** seeps through poisoned roots.

Mockingbird, mockingbird,
Tell me all the things you've heard...
They don't like it, so I like it,
I am like the mockingbird.
*Last stanza is meant to be italicized

This is sort of one of those feels-like-a-first-draft pieces, but I'm going to leave it alone for a while. If there are any parts that stand out to you as needing improvement, please don't hesitate to mention them!! Thank you!

[This poem covers some controversial aspects of the recent gun debates in the US, and expresses my personal views. You might not agree with me here, and that's perfectly fine. In fact, I encourage you to voice your own thoughts and opinions below, assuming we can all remain civil.

All sides have valid points to make on this issue. That's why it's such a difficult problem to solve. But discussion is good... Discussion is necessary. Constructive debate is the fuel for forward progress.]
Eve Estelle May 2017
Oh, the sky is shining bright, bright blue,
Shining, shining, down on you -
My little, little Mary Sue,
Who so bravely rode that gilded horse
High upon the tor, stood there tall
And full of pride;
Who went to war against the tried -
Never, never lost their stride,
Instead called upon their rallied flock,
Those pristine hides and ****** voices
That had yet to wade in the red river;
Giver, giver, but quick on the trigger -
Purge the wicked and hush the words,
Burn the books, and ban the birds,
May the ashes cushion your fall.

Oh, you take the high road,
And I'll take the low;
I'll be in Scotland before you..
Early and spur-of-the-moment attempt at mild satire. :) What message do you get from this? Suggestions for improvement always welcome!

The last three lines are meant to be italicized, and are quoted from the song "The Bonnie Banks O' Loch Lomond."
Eve Estelle Jun 2016
The warmth of summer has faded,
And now the leaves begin to turn;
Drifting upon the winds of autumn,
A raven carries a message.

On wings of black,
Clutched in talons -
A bottle sent from the wreckage.
The letter within is wrapped with ribbon,
And sealed with a cork of sapphire;

Flying up and over the ridge,
The bottle is delivered from Fate's grasp -
It falls into the hands of a figure by a fire,
A traveler who observes with the eyes of Melampus.
Eve Estelle May 2016
I live every hour in a drowsy slumber,
My head held low, a silenced hunger;
The sky is a miracle that I've forgotten,
For my gaze is tethered to all that's rotten;
I wander lost, my shoulders ache,
A heavy weight I just can't shake -
Then came the day that changed it all,
Cold rain, cold rain, cold raindrops fall -
They strike, they splash, they wash away
All the troubles that dyed me gray;
Falling tears, these chains they break,
And now, at last, I wake.
Eve Estelle Apr 2016
Springtime arrives with a rekindled fire,
Breathe the air fresh like New Year's Day;
Feel the warmth of the sun's ire,
Awakening once more the flowers of May.
Birdsong echoes through a sky that shines blue,
Joyful voices, but they aren't you -
The grass glows a brilliant green,
And I smile when I see those Irish daisies,
The golden manes that grow to fly;
Descendants of summers I fear are by.
Next page