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Niki Gray Jul 1
What's the point of it all
learning to rise
yet then again fall.
Falling into the abyss
the clutches of hell.
Until I've had enough
of this cold, dark well.
Sick of the gloom, doom in this tomb
I cast off my doubt.
I feel my fiery soul
burning its way out.
Made my choice to burn bright
igniting the light with in.
Knowing that when I fall
darkness will beckon me again.
It is my decision to embrace defeat,
to quit or stay down,
or rise to my feet
regaining my crown.
I starting writing poetry a year or two ago and have shared it with very few close friends.  They encouraged me to post some of my work. Thank you Christian Love, Favour, Sheela and my little sister. So here it is and I hope you enjoy reading it.  I have more work to share if you enjoy it.
Anastasia Jun 28
See this crown, upon my head?
Made of knives, one slice and you're dead
My finger, tracing your neck
Then come my lips
The blade is next
Watch your mouth
And watch your back
Is it love or a heart attack?
Backstabbing isn't really my style
Darling straight in your face will make me smile
Looked you in the in the eyes
Shouldn't be a surprise
Inspired by Billie Eilish ❤
delilah Jun 20
There is a butterfly
She soars high
Upon the sky

From each city
From sea to sea
She ***** her beauty

With her wings proudly
Though she's in difficulty
Her glory is her duty
Marina Kay Jun 4
The hazy hours, the break of dawn.
The candlelight kindling your living room.
The ardour of your fingertips, brushing my palm.
The question you asked me, hanging in doom.

"There's something I need to clarify, contest this but don't ask why.
Could you list five things you like about yourself?
The light is green, give it a try."

The shadows of lashes painting my skin.
My downcast eyes saturate to the brim.
The blocks in my head, the lump in my throat,
Why haven't I an answer to this simple poll?

Stuffed with self-loathing?
Weighted with doubt?
Could that be the root of my soft-pedal mouth?
I made a bid,
I lifted a finger,
The answer never came, the longer I lingered.

"Your silence has met my expectations.
I can't ask you for your love if you can't give it to yourself.
I can't pick up the tessera to put back on the shelf.
The mosaic is your own, here's the polish and a crown,
I'll stand by and watch, to fault my preconceptions.
I'll stand by and wait, in anticipation."
A typical "I can't love you if you don't love yourself" scenario.
Don't fall for it, it's *******. Everyone deserves to be loved.
Arianna May 26
He sits at my bedroom window,
blurry gold in the rose-washed sunset.

He writes:
recording stories in the clouds ambling by,
admiring stars emerge from hiding behind the sky.

Dandelion sunbeams gather,
scattering daydreams
through his hair,

feathery-fluffy-stuff
softening
a moment's peace
so perfect
that I wonder
to touch it:
whether my
fingers will grasp warmth,
a tender reality,
or come away
dripping painted illusions?

Either way,
I think he too
is made of clouds
and moonlight:

a gentle bird of night,
if I wake to find
he's taken flight,
has ventured far and wide...


I'll leave the window open
tonight.



Tomorrow

send a kiss,
or perhaps just a wish,
when among the stars
he shoots by.
Pour le Petit Prince. ;-)

Ghazal - "You Are My Moon":
https://youtu.be/fF6p8pZVNr8
The Drama Queen...

When your Crown of Thorns turns out to be nothing more than a branch of a tree.
Anastasia May 13
ashes, ashes we all fall down.
i’ve come to take back my crown.
ashes, ashes, you shall fall down.
i will destroy this town.
ashes fall with us.
can’t you feel the rush?
the ashes fall.
it’s time for your call.
ashes, ashes we will fall down.
ashes, ashes, no more ground.
falling into ashes.
we all have our gashes.
now I breath in.
the sky grows dim.
ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
a sort of dystopian poem i found in my old poems from a year ago. i only put my favorites on here, an d this made the list.
Mickey May 10
Oh what a goddess she was.
Feeling one with nature deeply.
Howling like a wolf to the moon at night.
Creating  flower crowns in the early morning dew.
Sending a message to everyone she passed.
Making sure that everybody knew.
The elder women walked
the dry land for twelve days
None of the sand-demons found them

The white garden
shall remain unseen
'till the angel's corpse
sprouts from the earth's belly

When will the golden hawks
be free again?
The walls of Jerusalem
had almost fallen down

In every crown
the lidless eye
is placed
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