I. This bridge spans two worlds... No, two realities, though where gone?! Mirrors the mythological beauty of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon Endorsing the clout and stoicism of Zeus's Statue on Mount Olympus Parallels the grieving love that built the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus Evokes the envy of the world as did the Great Library of Alexandria Rescues forlorn souls, unrivaled since the Lighthouse of Alexandria Embodies Giza's Pyramid's genius and their incorporated golden ratios Shorter lived and more vulnerable than the Colossus of Rhodes
Most impressive, though, is that this bridge was only built by two Abandoned the 8th wonder of the ancient world... Dare who?
II. Horatius Cocles, sole guardian of its last half, despairs at the disrepair. Mind forever enveloped and enthralled by shadow's legendary glare!
Horatius Cocles, despondent, knowing that glory days are long lost, but more so bearing knowledge that Venus will never once more cross!
Horatius Cocles, tortured by this bridge, yet impotent to torch it ablaze. Disabled evermore by visceral love, yet would do it all the same.
"'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." -Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ice cream is sweet and quite the treat A savory delight I crave at night At almost any time and any where, it is worth to desert for this dessert. Some keep it vanilla while others want a twist. Sometimes it's good to mix or other wise switch. Maybe you're *****; can't resist other flavored dishes?
What if you were denied it or could no longer find it? *** how I'd crave its taste, but at least I'd lose weight. Other substitutes are lame and aren't quite the same. Regardless, I would survive and still be able to thrive.
Why is *** so different?
It's a biological need you'll probably say, so you, can't compare the two.
I disagree completely.
Though we'd all prefer not to be lacking, it's not as if we'd die for wanting. Additionally, people have lived ascetically and have been perfectly fulfilled and happy. Those kinds of people aren't born that way, but rather we are conditioned to be *** crazy. We are made to feel as if we are measured by who or how many we've been with. It is validation we truly desire and to know we always matter. And though *** is one of life's greatest gifts, it does not give your life an overarching bliss.
He pulled and parked the supply red wagon, then climbed the mast to the captain's cabin. Captain Red is ready for adventure. A quest to collect the world's best treasure.
His pirate crew is renowned far and wide. They're rough and tough and they don't ever cry. But none of them boys has the captain's stuff. So don't mess with him, man, cause he don't bluff.
This motley crew has achieved many feats, has never suffered a single defeat, and has seen the most incredible things: whales, whirlpools, storms, mermaids, krakens and kings.
"Set sail," squaws the boss as he munches lunch and the Ocean Destroyer leaves port Wunche. These rolling green hills are now ocean waves. That blue sky, however, remains the same. ... "Hey Benjamin!" beams the first mate Susanne. Impeding the journey that just began. "We already played this game. It's my turn!" The first mate trumps the captain, Ben will learn. ... Her spacesuit crew is renowned far and wide. They're smart and nice and they don't ever lie. But none of these girls has commander's stuff. So don't mess with her, girl, cause she don't bluff.
This brainy crew has achieved many feats, has never suffered a single defeat, and has seen the most incredible things: aliens, black holes, stars, and martian springs.
"Lift off!" beams the boss as she munches lunch and the Star Chasing Rocket leaves base Wunche. These rural backyards are now rocky space. That blue sky, however, remains the same. ... "Hey Susanne!" beams the pilot Benjamin. Impeding the flight before it begins. "We already played this game. It's my turn!" The pilot trumps commander, Sue will learn. ... Boys and girls grow up and out the front door. Those children’s games evolve to adult chores; those kiddy lawns to grandparent’s domain. That blue sky, however, remains the same.
Try utilizing meter and form Stanzas that can be adored Not necessarily rhyming Though at least include some pacing Prose riding rhythm Consider a little alliteration Free verse certainly has merit But too often excuses ****. Give us not what is convenient, But that which is brilliant.
Always, One unwilling to partake in your portentous ****
Yes, I think there is a lot of great contemporary poetry and poets, as much as any other genre, but I just feel free prose is abused not for its brilliance, but for the apparent convenience people seem to think it affords them.
Gaze on that woman by the train. With curves like gunpowder that will shoot fireworks again. As her and I once were.
Since then, of women, I've abstained. My chest is a pyre to the damsel I couldn't retain; fondness that won’t expire.
You say I could never attain and imply I'm a liar!? Or you think either me insane or least she's miswired?
The evidence on my brain - melancholy, ire - the despondent husk that remains, need you more enquire?
...True, of her, no displays of pain; eyes that jolt not tire, poker voice tipping no disdain, legs that feed desire!
For her, gone love is not a chain hidden by attire or flushed down a forgotten drain. It merely retired.
Love like hers was the wind and rain to my earth and fire.
"My woman says that she prefers to marry no one over me, not even if Jupiter himself should seek her. She says (these things), but what a woman says to her desirous lover is fitting to write on the wind and on fast-flowing water." Poem 70 - Catullus
do? dew? Honey Honey see, Honey( do/dew) Honey do or Honeydew? do seduces with toxic meats dew attracts bees for its sweets do concocts Jesus's Last Feast dew provides succulent treats Forsaking he who loved thee But he can't forgive like He, or ascend to golden streets Honey do or Honeydew? Are you Act or are you Fruit?
Magic fairy rings Budding decomposed mater [sic] Cincture dream seekers
Am I referring to tripping on shrooms or just the wife's tale of fairy rings granting wishes? Intentionally ambiguous as I like it being open to both interpretations. I don't know myself haha!
Better to be Pyramus and Thisbe than god Apollo and Daphne? As love oft triumphed by envy. Oh to be Abelard and Heloise or Juliet you and Romeo me! Cleopatra, Marc Antony, Orpheus, and Eurydice! Martyrs to Cupid, were you wary of the price to pay? Did you find peace from Plato’s coined mental disease in Pluto’s long halls of Hades or the self induced daily shade of trees? What of love dooming kin to Achilles? When Dido and Aeneas meet is her suicide guaranteed? Pray tell us, can true love ever be free!
O sea! O tide! What wonderful life! Awaits us in the ocean. Adore! Implore! What wonderful mores! Awaits us in the open. We roar! We soar! What wonderful lore! Awaits lost trepidation. Forsake those blinds which you thought chains, to see through the illusion. Forsake those lies which you thought truths, so you can have perception of that which does not hide from us, but we’ve betrayed it still. Though of both life and death, mortals shall ne’er bend to their wills, but of sole life, though not thou death, thou just might; before going into the ever unknown day-night.
A confident man feels not a need to speak on all things with which he does not agree Though in the proper time and place he is not afraid to assert his way
And though his words at times cause spurn, he will admit when they are out of turn Fearing not the inevitable mistake, but rather owning it too late
Caring and feeling without hesitation and not for reciprocal adulation Emotions are expressed appropriately; either subtlety or rationally
As honest with others as with himself; recognizing what he does and doesn’t do well Claiming to know what he does know and asks when he don’t
Pursuing tasks for their benefit and or joy rather than status or fleeting ploys Those latter things are often great fun, but worry of them yields none
While in his mind there is good thinking, he is more occupied with good acting In order to have concerns of the ideological, requires labors that are practical
On his confidence, he does not ponder, as neither he or anyone wonders of whether he truly possesses it. We know it.
Seeing is believing, for which we can perceive Believing is seeing, for which we can't perceive There are infinite things that are, let alone aren't That we cannot even dream of, let alone chart Living in shadows of a universe unknown From stardust we are born, where from death do we go?
To separate the word from it's identity Is quite the delightful mind game How things are agreed to be described or named is just convention for communication; a key, for organization of knowledge. Nothing more, less, and neither. While unable to negate this absurdity, ultimately, why bother?
For example, the universe, or reality for that matter, is not "good" or "bad." It just "is" and, thus, not even that (by "that" I am referring to the aforementioned "is" of course, but also the formal definition of "that," however, I also ironically don't mean that either by "that" as I mean nothing, yet I also don't mean "nothing" by "that" as I intend "nothing," "is," and "that" to be both metaphorically and literally interpreted while also neither simultaneously, which is seemingly contradictory). Did you follow that? I apologize, but it's a paradox to try and explain this concept/whatever about words with more words, thus I can only hope to allude to it or otherwise imply it. Lend me your ear again, or your eyes I suppose, but also neither... Sorry! One more time:
A palindrome isn't even a palindrome by it's own literal definition, but it's literal definition is also that of a palindrome. The word "palindrome" exists both as a palindrome and not a palindrome and also neither simultaneously. Schrodinger's cat, but no, too, and also both and Gorgias, Parmenides, Zeno an
The wheel turns on the black Bic lighter and conjures a restless spark, thus igniting once sincere letters. In turn, arctic winds are evoked at dark. Couple's ardor inspired prior to her departure abroad to Denmark.
Confederate embers scorch paper, but less so than this dolorous heart. Blazing in solidarity on a barren porch; a pyre for finest silks torn apart. With weeping wounds cauterized, the true healing now just starts.
Yes, it's seemingly a nonsensical rhetorical question, but, for that precise reason, it will illustrate a lesson, if you so desire to tag along for this short session.
Per Wikipedia, "The horse (Equus ferus caballus) is one of two extant subspecies of Equus ferus. It is an odd-toed ungulate mammal belonging to the taxonomic family Equidae." Hmmm... I much prefer that the horse goes "Nay," eats hay, has a mane, and is ridden by cowboys, cowgirls, Indians, equestrians, knights, jockeys, conquistadors, Mongols, and all. Even better, just point a horse out or otherwise show a picture to a kid and they will never be mistaken again. Even the littlest ones will never be stumped when faced with a rhino, tiger, giraffe, camel, and such.
Admittedly, there is a worry that we could be fooled with that of a donkey or mule. How come no one has taken advantage of this?! What a scam to get us rich! "Duh doy," you say, cause we all know when we see a horse, so why would anyone try to trick us with an ***?! Well I ask you in turn, why does anyone try to trick us with good art versus bad, let alone art versus crap? How could anyone fall for that?!
O why, O why, O why was I born in this non-laternlit world? No! O why, O why, O why was I born in this non-torchlit world. What woe! And try, and try, and try I do, to fulfill myself, all others, too! And try, and try, and try I do, to remind myself, all others, too:
That it is not man's devices that light the darkness, but the sun's brightness…
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The encompassing and deafening hum, until Winter's grasp snuffs out the last one.
Malaise Summer fails rousing still Autumn, by delaying the elliptical stone Unawares, she slumbers in chaste chateau Without prince Summer's kiss she won't be woke; ode to sleeping beauty's enchanting thrall. Though due time was granted, time now to stall For he can't let go his cicada heart; singing beau woes for Spring prior long gone The pulsing winged drums maintains being sane Yielding to Fall would at first worsen pain
The encompassing and deafening hum, until Winter's grasp snuffs out the last one.
During youth I was quite the collector of ocean ******'s annealed sandcastles Though the hosts inside could not be cheaper, their fleshy coats were worth all the hassles
Content I was amassing worn seashells; monthly did this fine collection accrue Though furnished, barren felt those wooden shelves, as even pearls are lesser than a jewel
Still, the sand was warm; the waves were soothful and regardless of what hollowness struck, the beach granted a chance to feel fruitful so long as one had either skill or luck
Alone was I, but daresay not lonely, but I was not merry until married.
Garments stripped from worn bones and weary mind Feet dragged on tile; hands grasp plastic veil Stepping into a tub; near swoon divine A pure, naked self emancipation, before the squeaking running metalware that erases the daily equation. Dancing, singing tunes of own devices: Cupid, Shooting Star, Sister Golden Hair Rocky Mountain High, American Pie ****** bosses gonna kiss ***** here Astronauts, cowboys, and rockstars meet here Best yet, the individual is here
Although merely hidden by a curtain, all for your view is but a damp shadow.
Leaves, sticks, and seeds make up this six foot stalk. Oh, how she blooms before the flashing lights! Leaving men and women with a stunned gawk. Oh, you cause the seeds of your kind at night, to dream of heights they won't reach; how sadly try the delusional. But in all kin, is imprinted least a scar on their psyches. Sacrificial offer in porcelain is ritually performed by some daily. If not for fame, glory, or money, then to mirror fashion people's ideal beauty. A cyclic mental disease that won't end. Shhh.. Here she comes! The first, but not the least. An appetizer for the famine feast!
Idly stationed in the bucolic hills, sits a stone well; unknown when abandoned. Though her people foregone, water yet fills as much as you can want for. In tandem, are high trees less old than she; occluding the view from pathless and naive strangers. As their wish in well is to keep obtuse, those that siren would otherwise capture. Her drink, one thinks they'll constantly receive. In reality, they'll only be taken. Youth will fade as the heart minutely bleeds. Their hollow, dried corpse will be forsaken. And though her hole but a tall dark crevice, I see my reflection on the surface.