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Hannah Christina May 2020
“Will you barter for your garden?”
the familiar stranger taunted.

His haunting talk caught on a loose thread in my heart,
recalling time and battles fought.

Make no mistake about the fae.
I must admit I was afraid, for I have seen my adversary

tear out the grass’s screaming hair,
poison the soil with atmosphere arid,
strip the baby branches baren,
shave the landscape clear.

I need not obey him.  
I have in my hands a *****
and around this place an angry hedge.
He can not prevail unless I show him the way.

“No,” say I,
“No bartering in my garden today.”
An old one from the beginning of the semester that I've neglected to post here.
Faron Hymn Yang Apr 2020
it sparkles in their eyes
in yours, in mine
marble and gold
flickering in the sky

a trail of tar, a halo of paper
let's take our train to heaven.
see you there, see you never
meet my friends, i've got seven
but she's the prettiest
with diamonds in her teeth
red wine in her kiss
she's my podium, my glory
she's the reason i stand.

now they eye the art
through me, eying her
i'm made of air but i like them
telling me all i've been
matters (my podium.)
'cause she's the prettiest
with promises in her shadow, with fire in her hair
she'd turn and launch a thousand ships, oh paris:
least lonely of men.
oh, roaches, she's my wonderland.

it sparkles in their eyes
in yours, in mine
a shape like the sun.
a trail of tar, a halo of paper
hold on fast my ticket to heaven
when saint are dust, gold is forever
so kiss me to the grave, loveliest of seven.

"money is the anthem / of success"
"money is the reason / we exist"
oh, lana / oh, paris.

i have loved her in many ways
i would not call her
a lover; i am fearful
for i am young; she will have decades.
Wesley Ryan Feb 2020
The weather seemed to match my emotional fizzle
It rained on from despondent grey sky
Not even mustering a proper storm, rather a drab constant drizzle
The sky was me and I was the sky, I couldn't be that guy,

Could I?
He who waxed on ‘bout woe
Yet about what had nothing to show
I remain, yet the rain moved on, nothing more than a by-the-by

Sigh after sigh, I felt myself slip
Deeper and deeper into my dip
Yearning for something to excite
Yet knowing not what came on as a fright

I am no longer the sky, rather the sea
In constant consequence movement, with no will of its own
Indeed, indeed, that guy is me
The one so drear, who must atone for crimes uncommitted, all alone

A prisoner of fate
I am now the ground
Nothing to soothe me but a soul made of slate
Now I must find a joy in this drear, to enjoy the ride, for are we not all hell-bound?
So, I wrote this a while back when I was in a depressive state. It lays out the sort of transitions in perspective I made when trying to cope. In the end, I came to a nihilistic sort of "might as well enjoy what I can" mentality.
Hannah Christina Feb 2020
“Will you barter for your garden?”
the familiar stranger taunted.

His haunting talk caught on a loose thread in my heart,
recalling time and battles fought.

Make no mistake about the fae.
I must admit I was afraid, for I have seen my adversary

tear out the grass’s screaming hair,
poison the soil with atmosphere arid,
strip the baby branches barren,
shave the landscape clear.

I need not obey him.  
I have in my hands a *****
and around this place an angry hedge.
He can not prevail unless I show him the way.

“No,” say I,
“No bartering in my garden today.”
This one was for the poetry class I'm taking(!).
The assignment was to write a rhyming or metered poem.  I decided to use assonance focused around the letter "a" as much as possible.  This is not a way that I often use rhyme.  I really, really like it.  It stitches the words together without feeling to sing-song or structured.  If you scroll back to my stuff from a year or two ago, you'll see that I used a lot of line-end rhymes and lots of meter.  I don't like the way that kind of structure feels anymore, but I also don't like writing poems that ignore the use of sound.  This is a happy medium for me.
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
Vinyl is so final
It can quickly turn the table
And just for the record
The surface is scratched
About half way down your back
In disdain we repeat the refrain
But I fear this time next year
The goodnight kiss we'll skip
I cannot say for certain
When we lost our groove
Broken but never spoken
We wear it on our sleeve
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
He left
A mark the color of red wine
Zinfandel
Placed high on cheek bone
Directly under her left eye
Such tears only bruising
It further

I didn't mean to
He simply stated

She left
A note the color of resentment
Charcoal
Placed atop bedroom dresser
Directly over her exiled contents
Such emptiness only reinforcing
It further

Once was more than enough
She simply stated
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
Once upon a time
in a tiny kingdom
called Beautiful Water
there lived a silly faux monarch and his fair maiden
in their castle aka duplex

No mote, no portcullis
but one groovy fence about a humble abode
littered with rooms
ill-appointed and dingy
but with affectionate wainscoting in spades

Nonetheless, they would often rue
the lack of spoil within those walls
'twas an age of shoddy floor-space
like a page with no margins
hence, the royal bedchamber was more a sleep shed

Trips out of town, no doubt
called for something fancy
a room with a view
a bed fit for a king
to stretch out without bother

But a funny thing happened on the way
to forming a quorum
they both pined
for the cramped quarters
left behind

The little bumps
and rubs in the night
came to be a comfort
a way of saying
"Hello, I know you're there and I like it that way"
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
She enters the gratification car
With Victorian lace choker
Porcelain décolletage
And phasers on stun
Don't worry lovergirl
You can't hold a candle to her
But you'll burn your fingers trying
Look at the front of her dress
Look at her passport
Look at how the aisleway clears
She's enroute to a foreign
Meet and greet
Tracking approval
With the shape
Of her sitzfleisch
The conductor has
No need of compass
For her ******* point the way
Once derailed
You can mock and stomp
'Til kingdom come
Until then save your pandering
For trips to the loo
You'll enjoy the ride
Far better if you pretend
She's your sister
And not the woman
Who gave birth to you...
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
You carry your lantern
out from under the sea
a beacon at the twilight
juncture between you and me
the footsteps of your bare feet
allot a mere hint
to vast splendor within
your surviving love's imprint
Inspired by the poem "Poetry is a Lighthouse," from fellow HP writer Lyda M Sourne
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
Long overdue,
a woman of tennis
came out of the wilderness,
and gave birth to
electrolyte towers,
naturally no one would give her
the credit for such powers,
her smarts were seen as a threat,
so she took them to court,
(centre court),
and won, love set.

Saturday's child worked hard
and won the spelling bee,
but on the prize
they just couldn't agree,
she was the best in her class,
no doubt, but still
only a girl, you see,
can you guess the word
that pushed her over the top?
m-i-s-o-g-y-n-y.
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