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 5d 
PERTINAX
Nature's Retreat

My heart sings songs parallel to the dance of rain
Where lyrics speak true to nature's mighty chorus
Of colorful leaves burned from early frost
Where green becomes gold and gold turns to red
And the animals, both big and small, hurry to get to bed

My heart speaks to these changes all around me
Embracing Fortuna as if she were my mother
Wishing that I, like the leaves, could also fall and be free
Released from loose bonds that sway with but a breeze
From mighty ******, third of his name, God of the wind
Who that deceitful Juno deceived, to blow steadfast
Aeneas away from hearts true love, to a bigger purpose
His own Goddess to please

Yet... It was not to be for me
Too strong were the currents from that vengeful Neptune
Who then commanded blue Oceanus to summon the monstrous gray Charybdis
Pulling down on the brown oars of my life, seeking to consume
That which I thought mine, as if spoken by an Oracle,
A future as free and varied as a rain soaked forest in fall
Before all falls to rest within the spiteful white teeth of winter
Leaving me to dance in the decay of nature's retreat

I then cry with Terra Mater, reminding her of the days
Where our hearts sang and we spoke in hushed whispers
Excited for the seasons change and the chance to rest
Yet... I am not prepared to say goodbye to her
Her beauty, to me, shines brighter than burning Sol
Me, a moth to her flame, is lost when she is away
Tormented by the memories of life living only to die
An endless cycle of pain that numbs the days spent waiting
For spring to rise once again and refresh my heart
From the desolation of the icy purgatory
And empty forests, skeletal in appearance,
A drab contrast to the songs of revival and lush trees
That are a favorite of the myriad dryads and nymphs
Whom orchestrate the natural melody of the Earth
While patiently awaiting my summer heat

I miss them like I will her, for soon I shall fall like the rain
Patiently awaiting my rebirth so that I might dance with her again
 5d 
Zoe taylor
A seraphic grand piano, besmirched with blood and fervent,
Scattered across old alabaster keys, Ichor stains scores of parchment.

Stewed passion runs wildly across the docile tempo,
Mellifluous effervescence lingers in the gored vestiges of a crescendo.

Memories of artistic vigour shrivel and regress,
Our blissful felicity of mellifluence, slaughtered by organic evanesce.
The poem I have written is a metaphor for art (of any kind), and specifically about how much effort and passion goes into curating pieces of music, literature etc. and how easily/quickly we as people discard and forget the works of others or our own once we find something we deem better. (P.S The blood on the piano is meant to show the sheer effort put into the previously performed song, due to the very fervent and fast motions of the composer it caused their fingers to bleed and leave stains the piano. Also I've tried to use structure in my poem in order to make the piece mildly resemble the keys of a piano so I'm sorry if its hard to pick up on)

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