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 Oct 2016 joycewrites
Fay Castro
White princess,
Up in your diamond and ivory
Chanel and Louis tower.
Above all of us-
Simple folk

White princess,
Walking on pink rose petals
Spilled at your feet
By your family,
Who are just like us-
Simple folk

White princess,
Hands untouched by labour,
Soft as silk and water.
Skin unburnt by sunlight,
And unscarred.
Unlike us-
Simple folk

White princess,
Who will never know hardship
Pain, or suffering.
Walk all over us in your
Black and red Louboutins.
All of us-
Simple folk.
So done with this girl in my class.
 Oct 2016 joycewrites
ryn
Painter
 Oct 2016 joycewrites
ryn
The crescent moon be my perch.
        A bough from which I extend my arm.
Careful fingers grasp my brush...
And with it I shall fill the void
with the universe.                

               The crescent moon be my hammock.
Upon which I lean fully into,
to seek restful recluse.                
Should my body start to buckle...
        From the heavy hopes of wistful eyes.

   The crescent moon be my anchor.
From which I draw                
my inspiration and strength.
                   She would cradle and sway me gentle...
      When wilting hearts spill unto me
the callous wiles of the world.    

The crescent moon be my well.        
A fount through which my palette        
remains full with an                                 
abundant array of silvery white.        

Just so...                                 
I could conjure for others,
       what their hearts so desire.

Just so...                      
I could grant them       
             needed solace and tranquillity.

Just so...                 
                          I could infinitely paint for them
the stars...
My cat likes poetry
She listens attentively to my recitations
I think she might write poetry
I heard her staring outside longingly
Purring mightily, grooving
Transfigured in the morning sun
Her stripes a kaleidoscope of yellows and grays
Keen green eyes on high alert
With flashing intensity through the sliding glass door
Jousting with the mockingbird swooping to peck her head on the patio
Rolling in the catnip bed in triumph
That’s the poem she composes
In the throes of poetic excitement
Inspired by wish and instinct
I've been away for a few months, struggling with life's difficulties, when my cat, Danielle, wrote this for me.  I love my cat, though she ran away after Hurricane Matthew came through....I found her later waiting to get in at the sliding glass door, where she sits every morning.
 Jul 2016 joycewrites
BarelyABard
I have to fill my lungs with cigar smoke.
                                                                    
                                            There can't be a drop left in the bottle at my feet.

                                      I just want to be...
                                                          
                                                             okay.


Though, in time,
                   I know everything
                                           will be alright
                                                          and I will smile
                                                                            at the universe,


I still taste the good parts of you on my tongue.

                                   I still feel your venom coursing through my veins.


                                            ...and I want you out.


I need to flush my body
until no trace
of your
ghost
remains.
The hardest part of letting go of someone horrible,
is that you always had such hopes for them.
 Jul 2016 joycewrites
BarelyABard
I look inside your fragile head
and saw the terrors which you dread
I whispered, "You don't need your meds.
I'll hold your hand on paths we'll tread."

Unfortunately.
I guess it didn't matter what I said
when you just let him in your bed.

So now you'll be alone instead.
 Jul 2016 joycewrites
BarelyABard
I was walking through a dream.

I fell asleep and shoes not meant for me appeared.
I put them on and stepped out the door.
Men and women passed and smiled, greeting as if I were one of their own.
They ushered along and I followed.

We entered a home and they showed me new furniture
and kitchen appliances;
speaking in a language I did not understand.
I smiled and answered in words also unknown.
We ate and danced for hours,
looking through magazines of dinner parties and picket fences.

A woman, fair and beautiful, took my hand
and we walked in the garden.
We kissed under the moonlight and she whispered something soft,
which I feigned to understand.

We returned.
The men and women were smiling,
holding a cradle and a wedding gown.
She looked up at me with hopeful eyes,
and I lowered my head in sadness.
When my eyes found hers, they were wet with tears.

The men and women began to slowly fade
and she briefly grasped my hand,
pleadingly,
Before vanishing into the silence.
Two worlds departing,
which may hold hands,
but only for a moment.

I opened my eyes, with a heavy heart,
into the reality of me.
Waking from the dream, which can never be,
the tragic reality I see.
I am not sure which version I like more.
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