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Tammy Cusick Jun 2017
Marks smudge your face,
Your *****,
filthy mouth,
what  do you proclaim?

What do you see?
When your eyes are blackened out from the dirt of your knees,
Slither and snake through your hands decayed bones,
We had a crown but now a thousand thrones.

Reach out your webs and reel me in,
Lend me your ear and fill me in,
What it's like to greedy, deceitful, and sturdy,
To have such a pretty face and still be so  *****.
Tina Marie May 2017
The sky is a river
Silver hairs decorate it’s crown:
A ruby here, an opal there
Whisks of sunlight everywhere

Golden hues, baby blues
The sunset gives us clues
But how do we search for what
We have yet to know?

What do you think
snail shells, cow bells &
the sublime of our milky way
all have in common?

A sequence in numbers
that lead me back to you
Abdullah Ayyash Apr 2017
I'm gonna take a wild guess
I'm gonna play you a blind chess
I'm gonna tell you how to deem
I'm gonna build you in my dream
You're an angel in a white gown
You're the diamond in my crown
You're the light glowing wide
You're the prayer I always hide
Now I'm awake and cannot see
Now I'm crying inside your sea
Now I'm handing you my last plea
Now I'm giving you all of me
© Copyright
Abdullah Ayyash
April 20th, 2017
Jay Ashford Apr 2017
Mink -
You had me killed
Resting softly on my shoulder.

You command to my ears;
Your -
Hot breath dribbles down my neck

Don't think I can't see
You're always in periphery -
Snow white silk, laced expression

indeed, Poisoned,
You now mean everything -
Maps can be drawn on the lines of your skin

glassy eyes, flaming cheek
Already your tail -
wrapped my neck and chin.

I was king and ruled the world
my crown was You -
Your velvet fur.
K Balachandran Mar 2017
A regal white heron,
a bird of passage
that had followed
it's beloved dream
a long, long distance,
sits quiet unmoving,
atop a flowered lemon tree
on the bank of a tranquil pond
that wasn't known to it before.

Fish, enjoying freedom,all along
play meddling it's reflection
as if daring the heron to act
by trying to catch it's attention.

The crowned heron,
more placid than the pond
on the wings of an elating thought
resumes journey chasing it's dream.
elizabeth Mar 2017
My paper crown has burned.
My wings have been ripped away.
My faerie godmothers are not real,
Neither is the court of Fae.
So while I sit and wait
For a darling prince to come,
I may as well remember
That there isn't going to be one.
March 21, 2017.
KB Feb 2017
blue roses and unzipped jackets, looks like the cold doesn't want to enter your skin again so its painting guesses on the corner of silver st. and goat lane, you thought that saying its all good baby baby would make your crown look bigger but the diamonds fell off instead
Sarah Michelle Feb 2017
Crown of leaves circling
the highway, their friends driving
shoulder to shoulder.
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