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Anais Vionet Jun 25
Thou hast my love and I desire thine.
Dost thou know or knowing, care?
I keep the nymph's lonely station.

But my impatience grows savage.

If thou carest not, my love
the stars will keep their motion
flowers will still need water
I will learn stillness
the feeling will rust
a short, free verse, romantic love poem about a teen crush, hopes and realities - using a purposeful, archaic, "throw back" vocabulary.
Amara Selraei Feb 24
O little bird, why dost thou flit so,
Filling the skies with they song of woe?

Knowest thou not that a storm doth come?
Hearest thou not the thunder’s celestial drum?

It thrashes and thrums with such terrible din,
Wresting away thy song as though t’was but a sin.

Fly, little bird, fly away swift and true,
‘Til the heavens are once again swathed only in blue.
Tina RSH Jan 18
Clink clink clink! Out thou comest little genie
Broken is mine heart, not one time but three
So grant me three a wish and may that be
Fly aloft and take these ****** tears with thee


Mine keen eyes captured by the hands of doom
guts wrenched in light of mephistopheles' gloom
A dark solo rider in hue of a hero assumed
Beguiled the young heart is now encaged, entombed

Lo! Take the glass heart and travel afar
Drop it where hungry vultures and eagles are
Pour my light into his blackness like a shining star
Pour it to the end of his every remaining cigar

seek me then in the lands of madness within
Resting as the corpse bride I always have been
Whereforth art the kittens, Isibella, Isibella?
Why doth they long for the spring?
Nearer, o, nearer, mine heart holdeth thee dearer
As long as the first scent of spring draws me nearer
To thee, to thee.
O stretch thou thy paws high, and sing, sing,
so stretch thou thy paws high and sing.
annh Apr 2019
My inkwell brims with verse unfit,
My speech tongue-tied; my page unwrit,
Yet though I be misunderstood,
Prefer I this to words of wood.
‘Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite:
“Fool!” said my muse to me, “look in thy heart, and write.”’
- Sir Philip Sidney, Astrophil and Stella
Astral Jan 2019
My wings are gone.
Gone from my body,
Gone from me,
My wings are gone.
Like Icarus hath learned,
My wings are gone.

And I can't fall very much longer.
A quick thought I had during school that I decided to write down.
Chicken Nov 2018
Seek and ye shall find me in the darkest of the nights,
speaking of the torments, and the multitude of plights.

In the air it can be heard, all those who hath gone before,
to seek inside the glory mind, of which could not be ignored.

Travel deep down, down deep into the depths, until ye rise again.
And if ye shan't rise, let it be no surprise,
This ere task is not pretty, amen.
Archaic dark night of the soul instructional, for the win.
Fixed on repeat with stagnation as aural salvation
they dance to the archaic discord
entombed in relics from 1973
rooted in pensivity behind the repetition of each melody
they've heard this one before
used it to pick themselves up from the floor
an effigy to lost lovers
who used to sit beside them
smoking on the balcony
paying duty to a capitalist society
taxing themselves with each breath.

They never hear the strings breaking in silence
dancing through progressions
which paint plaintive signs of the times
disparity haunts the rhymes
but nostalgia stole the show
apathy drives ignorance
to the songs, they don't know.

Artists gorge on the decline
too many pills to swallow
so instead, they'll do another line.
Inspired by a conversation about Napster.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
'Oh, when will you return, my love?' wondered Kourê,
   as she lays on the daybed, in the cradle of                        
          Spring's clime; how the nights and days make                        
her so weary, as the yellowed flames sway idle              
So many flowers sent,                                            
each rich with memory.      
Violets coiling around the triumphal arch;              
His smile after their first kiss under
the flushing dawn.
Starlings who sing ever so sweet;                              
the song of him preaching of her being
                       a bright glory before others.
Crystal chandeliar that hangs from the ceiling;
                            Her on a small bench, his hands massaging
                              warm oils between her fae-sculpted
      feet and toes.
The roses; a rouge kiss in the light of the shade
          The harp; a white daybed draped
                            with a scarlet sheet.
She yearns for a hug from him, bathing ****
          in light, as their hearts beat in sync
                              and reach the sky.
All she wants is a sweet rest, his hand on her
fine head;                                                
            stroking, sighing, eyes shining,              
                  water that trembles between fingers,
happiness linger!
A feather drifts earnest, the glittering of stars,
And now she cools, recalling their sweet        
goodbye as he rides his mare,
            snow cloak shines eternally.
'Yours is a beauty that will never wilt,' he cooes,
placing a rose in her hair.                  
A rose.                      
A rose...        
Her eyes falls on the white rose in the vase,
              lonesome, thornless proud...                  
We marvel its beauty, its earthbound performance                       
 She holds the rose in her hand, staring at its                    
its crowning glory; petalled virtue
By her ivory velveteen fingers                                          
long finger,
               slim thumb-
She plucks petal by petal by petal by petal
as she looks to the day-sky
                      with a dreaming mind
And when the crown is gone,                            
                       her face is touched by a frown                        
                and the naked stem,
                                    marred by her sensitivity-
                                            ***** of its own beauty-
                                                    for her hand's sake,
her yearning for her lionesque lover,              
                                         and aurorian prayers?          
The stem falls, naked and bald on the ground
    as she closes her eyes, saddened...
She cannot bear the sight of snow-kissed            
flowered bays without the sun,
                   her hymn-
                                  her shield-
Know the true secret behind the red, red rose  
As none know of its venomous mantle    
this Rose lingered in the vase only to be
defiled.
Taken advantage of only to
                            be dumped-
A laughing stock as another more beautiful
                            flower will take its place
Boiling with vengeance, the stem is hale,
jade with envy-
                                               barbed with thorns, a poisoned desire
                      to shield its body,
Its pride, its crown stolen-
                                     From snow to blood-
                                                    its pain turned crimson,
No longer will tears of dew fall!
'It matters not,' Kourê thinks, 'another rose will bud.'
For they, like many perennials and sentient life,
                          are conscious of its limited beauty!
'Mine own beauty and his will last forever.'
From the light beyond,
she sees him.
                                       Her sun that rides the mare!
She runs into his embrace- a pair of happy doves
Her fingers in his gold curls
as he bends the knee,
The air lovingly cold at this display!                  
Ever so content!
                                          Blessings upon the lily in the snow!
Upon her hands, the blood of a rose,
that swears vengeance upon her
for it will be the catalyst!
Blood for blood!
                                  The rose will rise and curse
them with pain ten-fold...
Final part of the free-verse!
Hope you enjoyed it!
I came up with a little sad myth behind why the rose has thorns. Why the white roses are truly red. What did you think? I have roses in my garden but I don't pick the petals, they're too pretty!
What did you think of Kourê? Do let me know!
Love you guys! Thanks so much!
Lyn ***'
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