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Colm May 2019
When all I try
And all I do
Falls down like sand
Midst castle molds

With knees
Red and worn

And eyes
Read and worn

I will dig the softly sudden earth
And build myself
A castle new

Never to be torn down
In this life
Castles By The Sea - With an inevitable end
Colm Mar 2019
There is weakness in two just as in one
A sandcastle of constituents
Molded and bound together beneath the basking sun
But the conjoining doesn’t change the component
Nor make it any more fun to be
The most honest version of the newest one
Certainly sand has its own set of difficulties
Who you are before really matters.
SUNDARAM SARMA Nov 2018
Picturesque Edinburgh symbolizes Scottish regal splendor,
Which can be seen in buildings that are truly rich in decor,
The solid architectural structures are such a visual marvel,
Replete with history when one tries to unravel

Mary, Queen of Scots is a name we  remember from school history,
The palace where she was born speaks of tales that remain a sad mystery,
That she was ordained to be the Queen as soon as she was born, was destiny,
It was her mother's foresight and Providence that enabled her to survive the mutiny

The palace rooms and items therein portray her tragic life,
Their vividity saddens the visitor when seeing how full it was of strife,
The room in which she was kept in isolation by her better half,
Spoke volumes of the agony she endured at the hands of her bitter half

The Royal Castle has a whole history behind its walls,
The gusty Scottish winds in no way diminishes visitors' footfalls,
The audio tour reveals fascinating stories little heard of elsewhere,
Which we would never come to know if we had not been there

The prisoners-of-war cells and isolation wards that are centuries old,
Depict in great detail the meted treatment which was a sight to behold,
One cannot but wonder at the related stories of medieval times,
The mannerisms of people of warring nations, that was less than sublime

The difference in Scottish and English (London) accents is quite striking,
One needs to listen closely without too much jaw breaking,
Where the former is more subtle and measured and in consonance with word spelling,
The drawl and crunching emphasis of words in the latter is more telling

While walking through Princess Street Garden at leisure,
Taking in the floral beauty is such a pleasure,
The spectacular view of the castle atop the hill,
Screams for a photo shoot of your own free will

The Waverly Bridge junction is a busy thoroughfare all day,
As automobiles ply by and pedestrians wend their way,
The hustle and bustle is not too over the top,
As people seemingly find time to stop and shop

As a nation the Scots can be justifiably proud,
By nature they seem modest without being too loud,
Their common bond with the English is that they share the same Queen,
Their rivalry otherwise is perhaps latent and needs to be seen
D Lowell Wilder Sep 2018
The moat where we keep watery fowl
afloat feeding them cracked corn
scattered from our parapets.
Repaired the dry rot in the gate, got the
drawbridge working, again…it rusts.
There is dust, makes us sneeze.
Stumble over stones, look at masons
askance.  Threaten grain withholding
(hint:  barley) unless they
make ‘em flush.
How fun to keep
the keep
shiny.
Always interested in  concept of time travel and having to tackle situations with modern skill set.  Never turns out well.
Anne B Sep 2018
You look like a wolf
in sheep’s clothing

And yet, you say you
are the dragon

Yet, you make us believe
in your story

You breathe no fire

You only wanted the
castle walls
to protect you
from our glances

If you had opened up
Put away your wolf hide

All could see
how lonely you are

And how wrong our story is

---------------------------------------------------------
Ann­e H. Bakke  |  02:09  @   29.05.2016
The narrative is all wrong. You are doomed.
uv May 2018
God my life is such a mess,
My fairy tale is all a jest,
The only dream i had,
The only thing i wanted,
Its no better than all the rest.

I wanted some one to wipe my tear,
A prince to whose heart i was dear,
But my castle is all tumbling down,
My happiness is sleeping in sadness town.

But my heart yet wants things to be fine,
I will try, cause what is lost is mine.
I am sure there is some one who will care,
A person with whom, my world i can share.

He will show me dreams and work a mile,
To drive away my pain and bring a smile.
He will build that castle again in my heart,
I will just wait for him, till our stories start.
Wrote this couple of years back..
I waited for our stories to start..
God did answer my prayers..
One of my previous rhymes shows how it ends..:)
Megan Parson May 2018
If becoming Tarzan, wmylm,
I'd do the stunts, in every movie.
If practicing magic, wmylm,
I'd go to Hogwarts to study.
If exploring the ocean, wmylm,
I'd invent the Nautilus, for us to flee.

If becoming Beyoncé, wmylm,
Jay-Z, you surely will be.
If living in fantasy, wmylm,
In candy castles, we'll live in ecstacy.
If giving you the world, wmylm,
Sherry Crow, I'll add to the symphony.

If a thing of beauty, wmylm,
A mirror mansion, I'll build sans vanity.
If jewels and gold, wmylm,
Zeuses bolt, I'll bring, forever pretty.
Enfin, if all you want is me,
I truthfully say, I'm ready !!
*wmylm. A dreamy write :)
Joe Apr 2018
Castles sitting with walls so grand,
sitting high, like great dunes of sand.
A special treasure shared by those within.
Oh! How I wish I could stroll right in!
To obtain this treasure so unknown!
But the gate is shut, so I sit, alone.
Garrett Burger Dec 2017
.
Without knowing places, my place it seems
Looking for the best, the attention.    a scheme
Writing for freedom, rightful, a taste
A taste of satifactury
A taste of bliss
A taste of all the wonderful things I miss
For looking in darkness where it can not be found
Searching for answers
The ones you don't know when they're found

Granulated light, from the bedroom abyss
I wrote this in hopes to remiss
The things about you that I almost see
Guess the open door to this cage gets the best of me

Too tired to see, with eyes wide open
I dropped the key, I closed the shackles
No need for this. Running too much a hassle
Staying put in my cage, so addicted to castles

I willingly stay in this dungeon
Just to remain closer to the stories
That were once told
To me, to us

I've had enough.
I know the story, the only way out
I lay down the screens
Technology, you are the dragon.
Guarding this castle, you keep me in.
A distraction, of many, I see the curse.
I will see you as a tool, to remove this thirst

We are who we are, what will be       will be
Appealing to the masses means nothing to me
Along in this journey, out of the castle
The mightiest stance.

Alone in the beacon,
I fulfill these plans
To leave the stories behind
Goodbye, the castle
Sometimes, poems don't seem fitting to have titles. Spiratic, unrestricted, undirected writing forms itself as it goes. And while sure, the poem may have a perfectly fitting title once it has been heard, completed. Though why spoil the escalation ahead of time, with a title that shows the end at the beginning. Telling the reader what it is before the words in the poem even knew, just isn't right to me.
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