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She was
unsinkable,
or so they thought.
Woods fired, engines chugged,
they sailed her West in fair majestic pride
unknowing of a tragic ending, a harrowing recollection.
In a blink of an eye, she collided with a tip of the ice, a thousand lives and more swallowed by angry tides,
cries of mercy resonating, woes fading into the familiar shuttered countenance, one by one.
Debris floating back and forth, a horrifying spectacle of bodies buoyant, breathless,
as salty waters sing a lullaby, consoling souls from a sudden departure.
The Ship of Dreams, The Unsinkable, in all her vainglory
a grand exit on her first and final journey, but not
before a farewell kiss pressed on her lips—
She, in a trance, breath withdrawn,
her limbs weak and weary.
Slowly she plunged
but not before
looking back
one last
time.
This is a calligram I wrote in 2019 with the title "Cautionary Tale." Inspired by the RMS Titanic shipwreck, I renamed the poem with something more befitting to its message.
Àŧùl Jan 9
I really-really-really wanna take you home,
Tonight - tonight - yes, tonight.
You would feel relaxed when you spend the night,
With me in my bed - in my bed.

I really-really-really make a promise to you this evening,
Tonight be unlike any other you'd ever see.
You would feel the joy when you spread your pretty smile,
Watching me sink in my bed - in my coffin.

First I'd kiss into your mind a termination signal,
A signal which is mine.
I promise it'd be painless and clean altogether,
Death comes sooner.

The blanket over us will be our gravestone,
Tonight, yes, you try dying.
Try dying tonight in peace and love,
With me, in my bed - my escape.

I promise to take you away to a realm,
Tonight you'll enjoy dying.
Die kissing the lips of immortality,
With me in my bed - my abode.
After uploading it, I saw that the shape of this poem resembles a coffin! Spooky, eh?

My HP Poem #1958
©Atul Kaushal
Amanda Kay Burke Oct 2023
Heavy hangs the head
Crown created with cement
Fragile face fades
Heavy is the head who wears the crown...
Isaace Mar 2023
For the set-foot-on new-found sand,
We set sail from mosaic to mosaic shore—
Our black slave-belly churning, evermore.

In the distance
We saw a strange, ominous dome.
So dense it seemed,
As if crafted from molten slick!
As if crfated from an accumulated Earth-spit.
As if fashioned from one complete object.
Clearly crafted and fashioned by Futurity's hand;
He who strove upwards and did not question what He saw as progression.
Futurity: He who would compel me to free my stock of black slaves once we reached this sequestered clump of land;
For these isles seemed no place for men with torn and shackled hands.
For these isles seemed a place where shackled slaves would free themselves! and feed on their master's bone strands.
Mark Wanless Nov 2021
adjusting to whim
concrete world hard born again
the dream is dreamer
TheBlackBird Aug 2021
Blue velvet flowers
born prisoners in the window
listen to your delicious
candy secrets and
breath them to the universe

You are haunted by
perfume and concrete
slow, lingering kisses
and the salt of her
soft wet lips
The walks of life I see;
such             little               hope
I have             for hum-                 anity
stum         ble blind           alone
never able to see reality.
Wake Up!
Mark Toney May 2021
concrete jungle heat
suffocating cityscape
~ bare feet loving grass






Mark Toney © 2021
Poetry form: Haiku - Mark Toney © 2021
Jacob Reilly May 2021
The first time your love has to be hidden, you'll understand that "I love you" is a commitment.

You've always told of abstract loves: people, dates, fun that never yet happened. But he... he's different. This boy is not abstract. He's your first. Your first, and your secret.

The first time you met was an early day for you both, but beautiful nonetheless. The first date; the first time you've ever shown this vulnerable side of you. Holding hands and flying high -- so high you are in the clouds. You've never felt so free. Nothing, nothing holding you back. When he closes in to hold you as the horizon approaches -- as you fall into a state of carefree desire, brace yourself. You can't help but think, "where will we go next, him and I?" To-be scenes so vivid flood your imagination. And you know what? It's quite a sight, to look forward to a future brimming with life; a future so bright it makes your heart soar, as if heaven itself was right at your feet. You could try forever to describe it but... you smile because what's next to come is everything you never knew you've always wanted. This is it. Right here, right now.

Your first art project with another person, your first theatrical event & first request to be someone's boyfriend just as the clock strikes midnight, your first everlasting pitter-patter of your heart over someone so deserving, your first Valentine's day that you aren't contentedly alone but are happily in a relationship, your first shower with another person, your first haunted attraction experience, your first sleep-over & first waking up to someone so lovely, your first sneaking a boy through your house & first hot tub adventure whilst your family sleeps, your first "time" with him, your first midnight rendez-vous, your first SeaWorld fun day & first Busch Gardens extravaganza & first circus adventure, your first time meeting his sister, your first sharing of aspirations to someone else, your first asking him to revise your homework with you, your first dinner date & first saying "I love you" in the back seat of his car as tomorrow sends you back home, your first planning of a vacation that too soon will be postponed, your first planning a week together once school is out to sleep-over and everything else, your first discussion that ends as an argument, your first crying over someone who loves you under conditions only, your first make-up "act", your first Ikea trip, your first waking up too late for another more-or-less important commitment but to you he was the most important, your first serious phone call, your first break-up.

Your first time saying "I still love you" in your dark, lonesome closet, awaiting a reply, an echo, something. But you know that your love is unconditional, while his has its limitations; unrequited love will never yield your dreams. The pain of losing him is not abstract, it's concrete. This pitter-patter love won't go away. 

No... the first time your love has to be hidden, you'll understand that "I love you" is a burden.
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