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Time devours beauty of a maiden,
Like a flower withering in a prevailing drought

It pulls down the bright petals of her youth
To ruins of a deserted city

Mighty, once adorned,
Of her great walls and golden streets,

That whispers of her riches
Echoed the high mountains and valleys below,

As swans swam up her Jordan,
To the tunes of the eastern parrots

Finest, smiles like a sunset,
And the melodic voice of her highness

Now, behind shutters of broken glass,
A ghostly structure falling into oblivion

Deserted by kings, counsel men, and soldiers
As her streets crawl with beggers and the unclean

Her walls falling brick by brick,
As the wind pulls one strand of her hair at a time

But, she smiles, touching the smooth surface,
Of the glass, more like herself

And whispers, "for every city that fades from glory,
The world must raise another, "

"and for every queen that ages,
The kingdom must crown another"
 Jan 2017 Doug Potter
Alienpoet
The black

The hole in my soul aches
Waking from nightmares
hoping god will take them away
Madness the veil of midnight across all I see
Wanting to see actual reality
In amongst it all
The physical and mental wall
Has ring fenced me in
The pale emperor is king
He is the ghost of all my sin
Taken from me is my soul within?
His gnarled and twisted skin
religions faith is wretched
Stretched out of shape
I look to love but all I get is hate
But maybe if I get to write my own book
Fate will abandon its cruel story for me
If it's not too late...
I wrote this because madness and depression have become a veil in which I can see through darkly and yet I want the power to change my fate.
Destruction slayed all emotions.
Cold and stormy in my head.
A sudden shock to my heart.
And my eyes turned red.
 Jan 2017 Doug Potter
Erin Nicole
I don't know what I feel anymore. One minute I'm happy, the next minute sad. One day I hate him the next, I miss him. My feelings are everywhere. I can't control them. But this time it's true. This time I know. The darkness lingering inside of me tells me, I do truly miss him, I do want him back. But the emptiness has came and is unbearable. He is gone and I cannot control it. For I was to selfish to see before that I was the luckiest girl ever. But that is gone and I am unsure that I will ever get it back.

Do I deserve it back? Do I deserve to have him? I wish, but I a doubt in my mind that he will ever forgive me fully for the mistakes I've made. Life will go on, dark, empty, hopeless. I wish it could get better. I wish I could see light At the end of the tunnel but I just don't see it.
I climbed an ancient mountain up to the snowy peaks. I ascended to where you can touch the sky. In the frigid cold and the radiant blinding sun I looked around for paradise but found nothing but empty barren ground. In frustration I yelled at the sky then heard a faint echo and then the crack of thunder all around. I stumbled and fell to the ground as sheets of ice slid down around me and tumbled down the mountain side. In a snowy haze I regained my senses and stood on sure ground where the ice had been now was bare frozen earth. I had come to the heights of heaven looking for answers, but all I found was cold and an empty sky. Then I turned around and in a blinding moment, I saw a sheet of ice like a mirror, in it I saw my reflection staring back at me. It then came to me that my journey had not been in vain. While I had ascended in search of ancient heroes in another worldly home, instead I saw the truth about myself and who I really am. The heroes of old were not in truth Gods, but more than what people thought they could be.
 Jan 2017 Doug Potter
Graff1980
I can’t fall in love again
with your white paper pages
with your stanzas, and prose
with the heart you proposed
the art you impart on those
whose eyes are open and ready
whose hands are clean and steady
hopeful in dreams of yesterday,
tomorrow, and today.

I can’t indulge the pains
of your lovely nostalgia
old covers and titles
trips taken in under a mile
light year journeys
traversed in days
while smiling and learning
lying in bed under a warm electric cover
with a lamp light shining over
or sitting under a tree’s cool shade
as the wind tries to prematurely
turn me to the next page.

I can’t fall in love again
because you break my heart
with your lies, sweet fictions
that inform and surprise.
Till, water fills my eyes
and after the last page I ask why.
Then when I am ready
I find the nearest library
preparing for such sweet misery
that literature gives me.
Despite my heartfelt protests
I invest in a hundred plus pages of
falling in love with another story.
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