Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Once upon a time,
i had a book i read nightly....without fail.
t'was a compendium of impossible dreams,
big plans, summaries of late night talks
on "long-shots-but-worth-a-try," stuff,
...our very own fairy tales, where we
wished for magic wands and wings,
written on nights when sleep was elusive,
when bottles of cold beer had lost their effect.
talks were long...my fingers grew tired, for,
my guitar wept with sad songs....t'was then
i learned to pour martini...into my coffee.

::::::::::::::::::
lost my guitar one day, got busted....but, life's
many notes and tunes, played on with time.
eclipses shaded the already dimmed horizon,
floods ruined boxes of souvenirs...stamped,
handwritten...with ribbons of silver and gold...
people died, some left...some fell out of love,
moved near the mountains, others left their
preferred milieus...for uncomfortable zones...

the moon, looking down from mountaintops,
was a witness to tears...of sufferings,
.....realization, and of acceptance.

when nights refused to end,
when the howling of distant dogs, echoed
and shattered the stillness of the night,
i question marked our tales with suspended
endings...tore off  unfulfilled, hopeless pages,
i crossed out those with "no forever afters,"
only a few pages were left......so, i began
creating new plots......and new settings
i added new characters, and new twists,
all written in the midst of unholy hours
.......til a new dawn....proclaimed itself...
:::::
to this day,
i write my own fairy tales, with no beer, definitely
i still have my night coffee...though sans martini
......it could be black, or with its mating cream,
....and all the dark curves and swirls, in between...
:::::
"a long shot, but worth a try," it may seem,
...yet, i do wish, i could put some sugar and cream
......upon everyone's dark, and bitter coffee...
:::::

Sally

Copyright June 6, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
(This is the shortest I could make of
   this poem...i apologize....)
Tie me down to Rose Valley,
my special place,

I'll happily spend
what's left of forever,
in my sacred space.

Lock the gates,
throw-away the keys,

I'm begging you,
Oh please,
Oh please!

Leave me all alone,
let me get lost in the woods,
I'll be just fine,

I know these trees,
like the back of my hands,
this enchanted forest is all mine!

Let me wander around,
let me sit under the sun,

Let me be a prisoner
to such freedom,
I'll willingly do my time
until it's done!

Let me spend
my remaining days in solitude,  
I'll make the most of my time,

I'll never, ever, look for anyone
to complain to,  
I'll never commit such a crime!

Allow me to surrender myself,
assign to me a full life-term,

I can promise you this...
from my special, sacred place,
I shall never, ever, return!

You have my word!

Let it be said!
Let it be heard!

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
 Jun 2017 Amaranthine
Traveler
There is no argument
The invisible
And the nonexistent
Are indeed identical
Yet against all reasonable logic
The majority of human kind
Cannot rise above superstition
It's such a peculiar condition
Those who won't decide
Have already made
Their decision

I have decided
To believe in
"Narnia"
I like the lion!
Yet intuitively
I think reincarnation
Is moderately likely.
....
Traveler Tim
Just funing ya!
"Hi there,
I'm a little lost...
Would you happen to know
Which road I should take
To get me to 'Peace of Mind'?

I'm on my way there now,
To reclaim my sanity,
I'm hoping to get there
Before it's too late...
Is this place hard to find?"

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
This piece made me giggle! lol
 Jun 2017 Amaranthine
Joy Ceye
We were perfect finding a way to grow straight
following a sunrise
that helped our roots to grow
and lie within
flowers, fruit, feasts.

You were perfect winding a way to make us sway
blowing cold ice
as we started to bud; attract bees
leaning to one side so it could not
become a beast.

It could be perfect blowing air
in precious time
unwinding lost seconds
as alarm bells sound silence,
fallen faces in leaves; trees
unleashed!
... under my skin
High tension wires
They crackle, singeing
The hairs on my arms and
Burning roadmaps
On my throat and belly

The words are singing...

... an acappella high note
Searing the eardrums
Breaking the crystal
While the rose lies
wet on the table

Fragments spark the
Ionosphere
Hanging to rival the
Aurora Borialis

The words are singing...

Their siren song
I wreck on the rocks
I tear the page with

rudderless penmanship

The words are singing...

And they skitter off
The page like

lizards


SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/8/2017
 Jun 2017 Amaranthine
Sandoval
They tried to break me, but this

blood that runs in me, is made of ink.

And these unbreakable bones, are made of poetry.


*Sandoval
 Jun 2017 Amaranthine
cheryl love
We count the hours that steadily pass
To say we have time on our hands
Observe the trickling hourglass
Seconds replace falling sands

Sand slides ad progressively rolls,
Rolling away, hours pouring
Time for sleep when the bed calls
Time skips without our knowing.

Time speeds up during the day
No time to meet with demands
Need more time I heard you say
I need more time on my hands.
Next page