Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2018
Lyn-Purcell
Dew


~
Her sweet dewed her fringe
to her forehead.
She had nibbled on the
ivy with leaves of gold
which she turned to powder.
Her eyes filled with passion
as she cups her hands to
drink the flame-laced
syrup born on from
Falling moons
~


Writer's block is slowly going...
Lyn ***
 Oct 2018
Blade Maiden

This ripe darkness
this mourning dream
a wrenching weakness
fit for the guillotine

An arrangement made
sheer comfort prepared
the end of fate
and, oh, how I dared

This dry paper
this cold pit
an agonising vapor
that smells of blood and spit

'Tis my mind
my wicked flesh
a soul pined
peeled off and fresh

Dressed soft tongued
I raised Cain
being shunned
silenced I remain

This dawning fright
this nightly echo
here comes the blight
light, don't let go
 Oct 2018
Yue Wang Yitkbel
Part 1 Down the Rabbit Hole:

He had faith in exceptions
He was optimistic
He “believed in six impossible things just before breakfast”
and had his cake.
He mused of the bunny farm
and fought the jabberwocky in his dreams.
These things failed him.
He woke up, and was crushed with the mice
In a snap of revelation
and
Under the weight of truth.
He was shattered, along with the coral corpses
Of the paperweight

Part 2 The Paper Weight:

A coral in the glass paperweight
A hummingbird shielded by twigs
The fragile illusion
A naive illusion
“The beautiful illusion”
Quoth Marlow, our dear friend Charlie.
Through the looking glass
His world, the Poet’s world,
was shattered,
Not by “a sea of trouble”
Nor by words of a mature revelation
but by Silence.

Part 3 The Horror, The Horror:

The wrath and sorrow of the composers
Were expressed
In the requiem of silence.
The conductor threw his hand open
In the final flight of the dove
For the poet, the dreamer,
Who, and whose ballads and odes
Were silenced on the battlefronts of the nouveau era.
No one followed when he chased the seagulls.
No one answered his pleads and screams of wrath and sorrow.
In the end, there was only silence
For the poet, and his poetry.
To this he whispered:
“The Horror, the Horror”
And then
Nothing more.
The Death of the Poet
By: Yitkbel Yue Xing ****
9:38PM
Taking a break from HP. Thanks for all your support!
10/21/2013
 Oct 2018
Traveler
If I could somehow explain
Surely I would
Contrary to so many thinking they know
For some of us
It is barely understood
The opposite of it can get lost in the unknown
Obviously I'm speaking of finding my way home
.....
Traveler Tim
 Sep 2018
Blade Maiden

Today autumn arrived
I watched it creep into my room
through an open window

In my bones a familiar feeling thrived
I watched the leafs fall around noon
from the trees below

Coldness came to greet me anew
a comfort of sorts
and I felt so very calm

Warmth came to meet me too
the rooms of one's own turn into charming resorts
candles, tea and a blanket become a weary soul's balm

With it came nostalgia
it slowly made its way under my skin
while colors change the outside

Do you know of this certain cardialgia
your heart is heavy but light but also filled to the brim
while memories of distant winters reach far and wide

Welcome my chilling beloved
my cold season of frozen solid dreams
I was eagerly waiting for your return

For you I ready my coat, already half gloved
I give myself to you by all means
and underneath my halcyon flesh I will quietly yearn
Next page