Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
(I) Three cups raised skyward
To God in celebration.
Gather sisters, in
The gardens and scream with
The golden rays of sunshine.

(II) The strain of this weight
On my bony shoulder blades
Is overbearing.
I am exhausted and frail;
When can I drop this burden?

(III) A knight in shining
Armor; wielding attractive
Charisma as his
Weapon of choice, rushing
To save the world, or the girl.
Can you guess which cards?
(I) Eight golden coins, and
Two remain unfinished. I
Try to concentrate;
My task almost completed;
My goal nearly realized.

(II) Steel soldiers stand in
Formation; eight malicious
Beams, I, their victim.
It’s far easier to play
Scared when I’m the hero, too.

(III) Here lies the karmic
Crossroads; an Armageddon
Of self-reflection.
Will the goddess berate me,
Or will she rejoice with me?
Can you guess which cards?
A rose illusion
Surrendering your royal future.

A silent magic,
Fresh with wonder,
Blooming your sacred dream.

It’s certain to glow
I visit often, though
This isn’t my happy place.
A homemade solitary confinement;
I cradle myself in the arms of
An oak while ivy brushes
My cheeks. Golden rays,
Golden buds, and golden wings
Flutter around my vision
Like twinkling treasure chests.

Lonely whispers of the wind
Interrupt the mockingbird’s call
Like a siren screaming in
The night. It is chilling, yet
Comforting. Petrichor seeps
Into my pores and my
Melancholy blues fade to
A golden dream. I’m free to
Leave, but not before opening my eyes.
I haven’t seen you in so many days.

Gnashing teeth unintentionally
Bite at bare, vulnerable skin
Like a cornered animal.

Lash out with the quickness
Of the cobra and strike
At anyone on your path.

I haven’t seen you in so many days.

Someone so sweet can
Become so sour with the
Flip of the mood.

Sharp tongue and bared teeth,
Darling, you are
Unexpectedly dangerous.
Where did you go?
I’ve been feeling down lately;
Shrinking into a lowly position.
I’ve been sinking lately;
Falling deep into the Earth.
A sacrificial burial, my roots are
The crypt descending into dirt.

Face to the sun every morning,
My circadian rhythm
Reminds me of my daily rebirth.
Like the sunflower, the light
Is my compass, these feet are my
Anchors, these arms reaching branches.
I wake in the breezy winter,
Emotion strong but rhythmic.

I hear my flame in blue;
The chill too deep,
Tickling uncertain skin.
Next page