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Anne J Feb 24
Her Imperious Canticle rewarded
From the butterflies of monarchy
Mermaid scales are her bouquet
A ombre is the debut
Crystal corals are the stars on her face
Below pink rings that scale a tune
Which the winged beauties will charm in too
An amazing debut for the see through
Of a dynasty that glows in the prism moon.
My first poem of 2019, based on this amazing artwork:
Please follow this artist, she is astounding. Also, I tried to make an unrhyming poem that instead focused on description...Free verse is the name of the genre, thx Flo for reminding me lol
Zywa Dec 2018
Hours alone, living small
in a hotel room
without dying

going crazy or
staying behind
alone forever

like **** and purgatory
in the evening
on the stage

I do miss my children here
beside me on the bed, my love
my life without drama

without the decisive end
from which the audience wants to learn
to understand what life is
Hotel room (1931, Edward Hopper)
Shirley: visions of reality (2013, Gustav Deutsch)

Collection "Pending rain"
Elizabeth Brown Nov 2018
Can you feel my pain?
The constant need to tear myself apart?
The intensity with which I loathe myself?
Can you see what is eating me alive?
The tears behind my bright eyes?
The darkness in which I hide my inner self?

Masks for every occasion.
A constant scene
in which I play limitless characters...
portray a plethora of emotions.
The curtain will someday close,
though not many even know it's open.

Freedom is what I long for.
A place and time where I can be my true self.
A person who understands who I am,
and is not afraid.
Perhaps freedom comes in the form of death.
Til I try I'll never know.
Kyra Nov 2018
what is this scene in my head

the lines are lost to those it fed

rebecca Oct 2018
My life was quite dark
but then the golden curtains opened and Act Two began
with it's first remark
Randy Johnson Sep 2018
She starred in a Star Trek episode as the girlfriend of Khan.
She was talented but it's sad because now she is gone.
She had Multiple Sclerosis and by 1985, she was bound to a wheelchair.
When she died in December of 2003, it proved that life can be very unfair.

She guest starred in such shows as Hawaii Five-O, Bonanza and Daniel Boone.
When she died at the age of sixty-eight, she died too soon.
Because of her illness, she was unable to reprise her role in Star Trek II.
She was a beautiful and **** actress and her name was Madlyn Rhue.
cher Aug 2018
acting on a stage,
she builds with each step,
the floorboards trail behind her feet.
they form from the soil,
the earth breathing beneath,
wooden planks sprouting between her toes.

she sings in a voice strained and trained,
her diaphragm strong and core
rumbling in single breaths.

her skin brushed with pigment,
cheeks tinted rouge and lips scrubbed till pain,
gold-dusted on her bones
rays reflecting and blinding from her beauty.

stomach she ***** in,
always prim and proper,
a perfect specimen of femininity,
her blood flows in a viscosity unique
only to the elite.

fingers down
but she lacks words to throw up,
she's silent,
an empty vessel,
her lips meant to be a two-way gate
but nothing flows either way.

her skin sunkissed turmeric,
her irises tapioca pearls,
hair flowing and falling from her face
toasted nori on the white rice her dress.

daily rehearsals of sixteen
odd years practicing lines;
memorizing them, repeating internally,
the stage she builds like a church
her loves oppose to the act,
but she builds an antidisestablishment
forcing her audience of parishioners
away from her.
[ T R I G G E R    W A R N I N G ]
my friend challenged me to use the words viscosity and antidisestablishmentarianism and so i made this boi
Brandon Conway Jul 2018
I ran across a butterfly
with a broken wing, struggling
only wishing to soar in the sky
this left me thinking

How many actresses are out there
that can make a man cry
that make you say
what is Hecuba to her
You know the kind

She ran away back in 05
out to Cali, looking for a small break
she is still waiting


12 hour shift then
leaves to practice
before she breaks down
and cries
and calls it a night

How many poets paint
a picture using only
never to be discovered
You know the kind

The shy kid in class
that is always picked on
scribbles in a journal
if only you could read it
you would


He walks home
to yelling parents
locks his door
and writes some more
before he breaks down
and cries
and calls it a night

only to repeat it

I picked up that butterfly
and brought him to the grass
away from the burning road
and speeding cars

I hope one day
it will fly
Silverflame May 2018
With a smile on your mouth
I see the evening breathing out
Calling my long lost name

And while I don't you recall
I hear you whisper, while I fall
Pouring memories down the drain

I tried to make you understand
You need to leave wonderland
The lion still kills without claws

But you crashed with the reality
Leaving strangers with serenity
Drowning in the final applause
R Shane May 2018
It’s 6:48pm
The sun is still out
And it’s 73 degrees here
In New York City
And I should be outside
Strolling around
Soaking it up
Smiling to people on the street
But instead I’m sitting
On my couch
Tears streaming
Down my cheeks
Heart aching
Like a punctured wound
In my chest
Because what I am
An actor
Won’t let me forget
Won’t let me let go
Won’t let me heal
The wound
That needs to heal
That started to heal
But can’t
Because I have to prepare
For an audition
I have to relate
To my material
I have to embody
My character
I have to empathize
With her
Whose heart is broken
Who misses him
Who loves him
Who carries him with her
Every moment
Of every day
Who wanted to turn back
To be with him
To see him waiting there
For her
Who thinks
“I was being weak”
Who knows
Now it’s too late.

He’s probably so over me
He’s probably outside
In the sun
Strolling around
Soaking up Philly
Smiling to people on the street
Grabbing beers with friends
With co-workers
With a new girl
But he’s definitely not
Sitting on his couch
Preparing for an audition
Relating to material
Embodying a character
With heartbreak
With “I wish I could touch your hand”
With “Now all I want is to grow old with you.”

No, I have to prepare
For an audition
I have to relate
To my material
I have to embody
My character
I have to empathize
With “I wanted us to stay the way we were”
And without even trying
Her/my heart is broken
She/I miss him
She/I love him
She/I carry him with me
Every moment
Of every day
And now the small part
Of my wound
That started to heal
That needs to heal
Comes undone again
Sparking the tears
That stream down my cheeks
And I think
This hurts
I miss him
I love him
I want to turn back
To be with him
To see him waiting there
For me
This is good
I should be taping this
I should be calling him
I should be thanking him
For making me
A better actor.

But then I think
I’m “being weak”
And I know
Now it’s too late.
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