Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Stanley Wilkin Mar 2017
The ruins peered out from behind
The blue-flecked crag
Where eagles nested.
Wind-blown, storm-tossed
Only the walls remain.
The turrets are now heaps of grass covered
Bricks, the keep a muddy mound.

Here, once were warriors,
Draped in furs, bearing swords
That glinted across the sea in defiance,
Defending the land from strangers.
Here, once were warriors-
All long gone!

Time itself has altered what once
Was considered unalterable.
When kings ruled from inland palaces
And long powerful ships caressed the jagged
Shore; now washed up on the beach
Like the kingdom they protected, flotsam:
Cruelly ruined planks of elm, distorted by
Sea and salt; masts broken and disfigured.

A once glorious people, now gone!
Palaces overthrown!
All hanging onto unforgiving Time
Like fossilised carbuncles.
Ripped from Time in a plethora of
Anguished voices dying slowly-
Calling out for resolution.
As Helen
mosey through
a day
that gabbles
in May
there along
the stream
she meander
to assure
that interplay
only eat
cake with
fudge if
nectar aside
mustn't contort
telltale with
him astride.
eleanor prince Dec 2016
swirling wistful
whispering ridge

speaks to my blood
ancient refrain

stroking stealthy
passionate reach

leaves no freedom
coveting all

onwards stalking
urgently quiet

strikes when poise
drifts

apart
https://www.flickr.com/photos/92628403@N07/27310942001/in/faves-51029280@N05/
Alessander Dec 2016
Your tears are so light
Like cheetah paws over puddles
Tepid and quick
Below ivory moons

And your hands though small
Massive on my chest
Each finger
A Stonehenge slab

Your words don’t quite reach
Muffled like some ancient wind
Low and distant
Falling off the Himalayas

But the ache is intimate
Like burning sage spreading
Touching every empty corner
O ashen holiness

Smoldering inside
gleck Nov 2016
“We could be gods amongst mortals"*

“Why be a god when the earth gave me you?”

His slight whisper
Another’s warmth on my hand
Body sculpted like those of gods
Engraved into my own
He is very humane; -

He is gravity;
Retain me against ascending
Pummel my sins

He is water;
Take away my thirst
Drown me when greed takes over

And I am grounded,
I am thirsty,
Lain earthbound onto the ground at his side
Heart aflame far away from Mount Olympus
I am still only  *
human.
Devin Ortiz Sep 2016
Rocks fall with each bey and beckoning
That stone hands shutter, dying
Rigid time, makes bone brittle
Pebbles of broken pieces
Stain crimson into the urn of the Earth

Chanting inaudible death hymns
The mother of rubble weeps
Her tears churn, with blood
And the sediment of the fallen
Into the blackened mixture
Exploding with fire and magma

Rising now, half broken and devil
With a narrow cage of brimstone
Twisting to a swollen brow of madness
Reigns down hellfires and Infernos
Laughing as the ancient muses
Strum the Fire God's Libretto.
Julie Grenness Sep 2016
Who has missed the boat?
The ancient mariner's futile gloat,
He lost the albatross,
In his own wilderness,
Nostalgia has its limits,
For one old hypocrite,
His gathering gloom,
Sleeping alone in his room,
He needs a change of outlook,
Maybe a new nonsense book,
He makes his sharing an artform,
Spam his mindset does deform,
His bluster and BS does float,
Yes, the ancient mariner's missed the boat!
Feedback welcome.
K Balachandran Aug 2016
An age old chair, in seasoned teak wood
carved, a perfect work of art, nothing less than
a masterpiece, and a  reminder of so much past,
sat regally before our wondering eyes, tempting
on the central court yard of my  ancestral home,
where generations lived.
                               Wanting to sit like my grandpas of yore
I found a carpenter, perhaps the last one for this work
who understands the air that surrounds the chair.
We discussed the concept,
design and the kind of wood
it has to be  made,to create a replica
to bring back the grandeur of times past.
But then, found  not an easy task  it is
"Do you deserve it ?" the bearded
carpenter, was so blunt in his skeptic stance!
He  puzzled me  with his questions
Yet we were keen to give it a try.

The adamant carpenter relented
after many sessions of questions
and answers, perhaps my passion
did the trick, his eyes made me believe.
He promised to make me a chair
(The kind none would dream in this age)
as if it's a mission divinely assigned,
"You need to change a lot to deserve it"
he insisted, suggests a series of
purification rights  "for your confused soul"

"To fit  in to a chair like this , fulfill
all it's  demands"in my ear he whispered
as if I am the chosen one for an ancient  throne.

An  antique chair shaped by the imagination
of my distant ancestors, now changes me
and without slightest  resistance I submit;
would I ever know what is happening?
Next page