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Zywa Aug 14
Falcons do not grab footwear
for their nest, not the slipper
that the Pharaoh gets served on his lap

.....He looks up and everyone
.....looks with him the falcon in the sky

It must be a sign
an assignment from heaven
and the search begins

.....The welfare of the entire nation at stake, the question to find or to fall

The court moves from cottage to cottage
to see the women and the girls
all over the wide delta

.....The heavenly slipper fits at the foot
.....of the foreign Pale Face
.....the slave who is different

She had put it to dry
after washing clothes in the river
and shows the other one
For Taoufik Didouh

Ahmose I expelled the Hyksos from the Nile Delta and then became Pharaoh in Thebes (from 1550 BC). From 1540 he controlled the whole of Egypt.

Rhodopis ("Pink Face", "Pale Face") will undoubtedly have been bullied with worse abusive words than her nickname, but Strabo (Amaseia 64 BC - AD 24) has omitted them when he recorded the story under the title Rhodopis.

Collection “The migration”
I am a girl who likes reading books,who doesn't care about looks,who is loved by cooks,and waiting for glass slippers by dukes.

I'm a girl unaware, with no ball gown to wear, with a chariot of pumpkin gear, I'm not scared of the deer.

I ride with my steed,wind rushing full of speed,I stand guide and lead,the broken and the freed.

I'll change to the real me at twelve,I don't know if its true it was said by elves,my story is on your shelves,read and see for your selves.

I have two sisters who'll destroy your mind, by crushing it and putting it on a grind,there is no escape I'm surely bind,onto their hands with no kind.
I wrote this when I thought of Cinderella and her two evil step sisters
Kasey Jul 24
Cinderella was banned from the ball
Her dreams exposed to the final maul

Her stepmother and sisters continued to screech
Upon with their abusive preach

She did not hear a word they said
Over the cloud of dark whispers in her head

As they left for the ball, unbothered by their behaviour
Cinderella was struck by her saviour

Her hands shaky, she had a course of action
The voices providing smooth traction

With no sense of hope
She began to tie the rope

With a step, it was only loose
But she still had her noose

Her head still assured
As she began to secure

Her future began to brighten
As she reached up to tighten

As her heart pumped
With no hesitation, she jumped

The snap of her neck, unnatural bending
This was her fairy-tale ending
lkm Jul 21
I loved you.
Yes, I did.

But I should’ve known better than to have believed the web of lies you sprouted at me. I should’ve known better than to believe your “I love you.”
Why did I take that bite from the apple, if only I had known it was poisoned. _

My mother warned me about strangers with blue eyes walking down the street. She said that was why she was protecting me.
I should've never let down my golden hair, if only I had known.

It didn’t have to wait until the clock struck 12:00 midnight for it to happen; bibbidi-bobbidi-boo, I’ll have hand it to you, you really had me fooled.
You were never Prince Charming, I needed to be my own Prince Charming.

I’m stuck in a timeless blank, neither moving forward nor back, a canvas that has not been painted yet and sadness is the only color I know.
I’m afraid I don’t have much patience to wait for a 100 years for true love’s first kiss._

A thousand times you tore my walls down, tore me apart and even when I’m at a chokehold, I thought it was still love.
Maybe I was a fool to have thought there was beauty in the beast.

I traded my heart for something temporary, I lost my voice just to let you step all over me, and some part of me hates that I’d still let you if we were to try all over again.
I’ve become the foam of bubbles lost in the sea because I couldn’t hurt you the way you hurt everyone.
city of flips Jun 25
Letter to Cinderella (and her Texas Fairytales)

~for EJ Love~

now lookee here, girl,
slow down pardner,
blanket love-spells need to be addressed,
especially if a return requested back to
the great state of big ole Texas

as I am loved in Texas, I’m well aware
how hard it is to find love in wide open spaces,
more trucks and cows than people,
which is NYC in reverse,
both hard places in different ways
to make angelic fairies appear,
released intact from busted soap bubbles

so here’s my idée fixe,
to the reading, less,
to the writing, more,
command thyself to march towards
the seventeenths poem, and many more
to arrive at the promised

take the formless visions, potions,
drifting in you, figure them into words,
shaped with passion and cunning, twitching in
a creme of teasing, a dollop of wanting,
a whimsy, sense of humor, stir with another’s pinky finger,
bigger than the ineffable lone star of lonely,
an eye tear for flavor, a salty secreted ingredient,
that needs, requires another’s hand to wipe away

and a flashing neon sign:
Texas Red Amber,  Chops, and
real good loving desired!

only good loving people,
steady on their feet,
need apply, poets favored,
but a certain kind of cowboy,
ok as well

what be my expertises in matters these,
why I am your chastened, mean no more,
sweet sister who see your spells flying by,
who writes to you with newly learned humility
Carmen Jane Jun 6
I long to see your face, right close to mine
To gaze in your eyes and guess our fate
To hold your hands or let you hold, mine
To put my own soul, for you in a plate.

I long to spool your hair on my finger,
To wait for your smiles, whenever they come,
To feel all of me, next to you, how I linger,
To pretend that we're slow dancing at prom.

I want to be there, when you finish a poem
And I  hope you'll be running straight to me
Showing all your rhymes and thoughts that are flowing
From your brilliant mind, that the world  have to see!

Then I feel the bright light, interrupting this image
Cause again the clock, 12 times it had struck!
It is midnight, my friend, and I've always had bare feet
Tangled in the pillows of my living room couch

I was reading your poem and I think, I dozed off,
As I waited for my pumpkin muffins to bake
I laughed at myself with a bit of a cough
Nothing has burnt, perhaps, only my heart.
Dream May 24
Come give this Cinderella the love she needs,

After midnight when she's in her rags and her fancy dresses are gone
lilac Apr 15
my desperation lies somewhere
between a pumpkin carriage and
glass slippers.

my truth is cinder ashes;
of feet too big or too small,
of a dress cinched so tight I
cannot breathe.
i haven't been on here in so long eep
happy poetry month !!
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