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Maria Mitea Jul 4
the  dawn did not rise over the village,
- the dawn promised to wait for us,
and the garden,
beautiful garden
is waiting too
in this long morning like a year-long,
in which the muses smoulder like coal all year round,

- muses are not like poets,
not even like the sun
to burn their flames in floating waters,

- dawn does not rise over the village,
dawn awaits for us,
-  swore to the muses,
swore to wait for us
until the water reflected in the sunrise
will shine in our eyes
like the night star
Jay M Apr 20
I am not coal to be pressured
And form into a diamond
I am human,
Under enough crushing pressure
For ever so long
Never to let up
I will break
For I am flesh and bone
Not of rot and stone

If I am to break
My dear little bones
The pieces must be put back together
Held in tender care behind walls
Before they can heal again
To become stronger than before

So, mind the walls
For I am healing
They will come down when I am ready
When my bones have mended
Strengthened anew.

- Jay M
April 20th, 2021
Please don't break my walls yet- I'll take them down when I'm ready.
Savio Fonseca Jun 2020
He once saw the Universe,
in Her pretty Blue Eyes.
But now Her Tears  keep falling,
like Rain from the Skies.
Tears all around Her,
splashed across the Floor.
When Her Mentor and Guide,
walked out of the Door.
Words, Stories, Memories
ran down from Her Eyes.
The promises He made Her,
we're nothing but Lies.
Never play with a Woman,
who Loves U and your Soul.
Have the Feelings of a Human,
U ain't a piece of Coal.
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Spring
by Charles d’Orleans (c. 1394-1465)
loose translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch

Young lovers,
greeting the spring
fling themselves downhill,
making cobblestones ring
with their wild leaps and arcs,
like ecstatic sparks
drawn from coal.

What is their brazen goal?

They grab at whatever passes,
so we can only hazard guesses.
But they rear like prancing steeds
raked by brilliant spurs of need,
Young lovers.



Original French text:

Jeunes amoureux nouveaulx
En la nouvelle saison,
Par les rues, sans raison,
Chevauchent, faisans les saulx.
Et font saillir des carreaulx
Le feu, comme de cherbon,
     Jeunes amoureux nouveaulx.
Je ne sçay se leurs travaulx
Ilz emploient bien ou non,
Mais piqués de l’esperon
Sont autant que leurs chevaulx
     Jeunes amoureux nouveaulx.



The First Valentine Poem

Charles d’Orleans (1394-1465), a French royal, the grandchild of Charles V, and the Duke of Orleans, has been credited with writing the first Valentine card, in the form of a poem for his wife. Charles wrote the poem in 1415 at age 21, in the first year of his captivity while being held prisoner in the Tower of London after having been captured by the British at the Battle of Agincourt.

My Very Gentle Valentine
by Charles d’Orleans (c. 1394-1465)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My very gentle Valentine,
Alas, for me you were born too soon,
As I was born too late for you!
May God forgive my jailer
Who has kept me from you this entire year.
I am sick without your love, my dear,
My very gentle Valentine.



Charles d’Orleans (1394-1465) was a French royal born into an aristocratic family: his grandfather was Charles V of France and his uncle was Charles VI. His father, Louis I, Duke of Orleans, was a patron of poets and artists. The poet Christine de Pizan dedicated poems to his mother, Valentina Visconti. He became the Duke of Orleans at age 13 after his father was murdered by John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy. He was captured at age 21 in the battle of Agincourt and taken to England, where he remained a prisoner for the next quarter century. While imprisoned there he learned English and wrote poetry of a high order in his second language. A master of poetic forms, he wrote primarily ballades, chansons, complaints and rondeaux. He has been called the “father of French lyric poetry” and has also been credited with writing the first Valentine’s Day poem.

Keywords/Tags: France, French, translation, Charles, Orleans, Duke, first Valentine, rondeau, chanson, rondel, roundel, ballade, ballad, lyric, Middle English, Medieval English, rondeaus, rondeaux, rondels, roundels, ballades, ballads, chansons, royal, noble, prisoner, hostage, ransom, Valentine
Orchid T Aspen Dec 2019
To you, I return coal-dull
and as embers,
smoldering as their petals,
soft as their roots,
but rough as their stones
and to you, I become
gray.

Go back.
Myka Nov 2019
i
They say we are made of stars.
But why does it feel like I'm made of coal?
The embers of my soul are dimming,
As my fire is soon to burn out.
livianna Oct 2019
wear shoes made of hot coals
to show that your mere
p r e s e n c e
can be dangerous
lua Sep 2019
All the acrid smoke
And dust of the world
Fills my lungs
Burning
Burning like a fire
I can taste the sulfur on my tongue
And feel the charcoal sticking to my fingertips
I look around
And all I see is a wasteland.
Look down.
There’s a whole world below,
dug out and timber-framed,
mapped and named.
Its tunnels stretch for miles
under the mountain.

Once it shook with blasting,
screech of train, and whistles.
The coal was iridescent blue.
Headlights on a curved track
burst like shooting stars
out of the deep.

That mirror world is dark now.
The men laid down their tools,
and took the mantrip
to the surface, home.
In the quiet,
hear the mountain sigh.
was in canmore, canada for vacation. saw these words engraved into the sidewalk... thought it was really poetic!

/taken from the canmore city website/
Canmore was named in 1884 by Donald A. Smith, an employee of the Canadian Pacific Railway. The name originates from a town on the northwest shores of Scotland named in honor of King Malcolm III of Canmore. The anglicized version of the Gaelic Ceann Mór , Canmore has been variously translated as "big head" or, more likely, "great head" or "chief".

In 1886 Queen Victoria granted a coal mining charter to the town and in 1887 the first mine was opened.

The North West Mounted Police built their first barracks in Canmore in 1890. It was vacated in 1929 and turned into a private residence. Later, in 1989 the barracks was purchased back by the town and restored.

Through the early 20th century many of the coal mines in the Bow Valley began to shut down. The nearby towns of Anthracite, Georgetown and Bankhead closed down and many of the buildings and residents were relocated to Banff and Canmore. In 1965, Canmore was incorporated as a town with 2,000 residents. I
Pyrrha Jul 2019
He's so insecure about being loved
He feels as if he isn't worth it
Through his eyes he's a peice of coal
He can't see the beautiful diamonds he shelters inside

Through my eyes he sparkles brighter than the sun
Because even underneath all the pressure thrown at him by his peers
He never gave up or changed for anyone
Instead he became something that they could never come close to

If only he could see the beauty inside of him
Perhaps he'd love himself as much as I love him
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