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SomaSonata Oct 12
These long days I need to sigh
And take things breath to breath
Some days I escape to forget
My appetite's multidimensional
Even though the love is mutual
What happened to the ages lost?
Was today just waiting in the wings?
Motivation is like a ***** word
My lucky coin can't buy nothing
But nothing else can buy it back
Time to rise and shine
And get the wheels back on track
Watching cable TV
It screams a blue and red dichotomy

Blend to purple
Black and blue
What am I supposed to do?
Black and blue
Those aimless zombies missed the mark
But their shot rings true

In a state of disbelief
In a land of disagreement
I'll hang my hat on tempting fate
Knowing well I'll never get a second chance
I'll melt the polar glaciers
With the laser focus of an errant glance
These lost days I need to find my peace
And speak my piece
Let the dogs up off the leash
The fighting spirit runs wild and free
No mental fitness guru tells me who to be
Or what to say
I have a mantra I repeat
Again and again and again

I test the muddy waters
And dip my toes in
But the verdict is lukewarm
I steal the honey all for the money
District the bees that swarm
Why else, of course
Blend to purple
A royal cordial

Black and blue
No guru gonna tell me what to do
Lyn-Purcell Aug 16

Born in chaos dawn
Led by her defiant heart
Rise to conquer plains


New day, new haiku!
Still not feeling 100%, but I'm getting there.
This one is for Gaia, Mother Earth, wife and mother of Ouranos (Father Sky to her Mother Earth) and mother to the Titans (which includes Kronos and Rhea).

History certainly has a way of repeating itself. Before Zeus rose against his father Kronos for the position of King of the Gods, Kronos did the same with Ouranous. Though he birthed children with Gaea, he reputedly hated them and sealed his Giant-children back in her womb. In an act of defiance, she rose against him and Kronos joined, for he loathed his father. When the battle was won, Kronos became King of the Gods...before the prophecy came to him that he too would be deposed by one of his offsprings. When this happened, Gaea sided with Zeus and helped him rise to Kingship.

Well, that was until he sealed her children in Tartaros after the war was won. When she tried to rise against Zeus, all her attempts failed.
I made referrence to Tartarus and the battles she fought with the first line
And Tartarus was seen as a pit that lies deep within the Earth (that was his body apparently and she gave birth to the Giants by mating with him).
Gaea too is a bit of a badass in my eyes for rising (and winning) against two Gods at least.

Nature always wins (reference to Poison Ivy hehe)
Anyway, thank you all for growing followers, I'm forever humbled and grateful for the support 🙏🌹💜
Here's the link for the growing collection:
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/132853/the-women-of-myth/
Be back tomorrow with another one!
Much love,
Lyn 💜
Phoenix Black Jul 20
You've torn me, ripped me, and hit me
I bleed from the wounds on my skin
You've floored me, kicked me, and slit me
But you've not broken the spirit within

My tank is depleted, not empty
I rise back, glowing with sweat
Fight? Oh yes I've got plenty
Your smugness will turn to regret
Phoenix Black Jul 12
In a fog of dread, I'm cast away
To drift unnoticed through the bay
Of timid flame, and fight forgot
I clutch the mast of “I cannot”

But deep inside, the embers burn
With trial and error, I slowly learn
A thousand thoughts, a journey long
To build a furnace oh so strong

Then my spark, I'll re-ignite
Out shall pour my blinding light
Ablaze inside, I'll be that man
Who stands up tall and says, "I can."
Transcribe my sine wave,
     Rays like the sun.

Describe the unending normalcy.
   waves crashing: one too many.

Laser-focused against the (g)rain.
        Tsunami enraged.


Defiance is my resonant frequency,
      sorry to disappoint.

I am the way.
Minnie Chuer Feb 22
Without a microphone
I am expected to speak up.
Without learning
I am expected to know.
Without band-aids
I am expected not to bleed.
Without freedom
I am expected to be myself.

They make the rules I am expected to follow,
But I will refuse.

I will speak softly.
I will take my time to learn.
I will bleed.
And I will be me
the way that I want to be.
Jane Doe Dec 2019
Stand tall
Stand proud
Stand strong
No matter what they say

You’re not we want
You never have been
Oh please just go away

What a disappointing child
A waste of our precious time
Her innocence has long since died
And monumental are her crimes

I look straight at them and smile
As they spew this poison forth
Willing myself to face the trial
This calculation of my worth

I remind myself to hide
And hold my head up high
For behind the facade of pride
I cannot help but cry inside

I try my best to insult
Openly defying
For there is no use in trying
To delay the sure result

They want to see me broken
They want to make a point
But I won’t ever be soft spoken
I’m sorry to disappoint
DA Bloomfield Dec 2019
None can defy what there is not
So why and how do you?
As Narcissus reigns, how can you contend?
Contentment with the norm, a shameful folk you are

As the faithless faithful preach
We remain steady,
watching through the distance
silently and inquisitively

So when the time arrives
Haste we do not
They, a pitiful bunch, consider us but shams
"How can the peasants rule after all?"
Oh, their gall

And so the farmers and the toilers march
March under the banner of revolution!
No faith to obstruct, no wealth to envy
'Tis but another evolution

Humanity will once again rule itself
Not succumbing, but becoming
its own god and its own master
annh Jun 2019
The light is dim, but I'm accustomed to working in the dark. Besides, it's safer this way. My eyes are not what they used to be, but it has become second nature to me - the pull of the needle, the tension in the thread.  

I stitched my first collar when I was six years' old, sitting on my grandmother's knee in the parlour of the old house at Innsbruck. ‘Isaac,’ she used to say, ‘you have your father's gift. Use it well.’

Ah, Papa, if you could see me now. Such expectations you had for my talent, but I assure you that the occasion for invisible seams and fine beadwork is over. Nowadays I work with a different fabric. A cloth perforated with ****** fire and riddled with shrapnel. The wounds - forgive me - resemble red Venetian silk embedded with black pearls; the bone like the baleen strictures of a dowager's corset. And the red dye runs. God help me, how it runs.

As I work, Papa, I imagine that you are standing in the shadows, your frayed sewing tape draped around your neck. I am praised for my quick hands and my ability to embroider life into abbreviated limbs. And I pray that you are not too disappointed in what I have become.

'Who is left in the ghetto is the one man in a thousand in any age, in any culture, who through some mysterious workings of force within his soul will stand in defiance against any master.'
- Leon Uris, Mila 18
Jade May 2019
On the mornings
I woke up angry,
I would put on
a thick layer of eyeliner
before I left for school,
eyelids streaked purple,
a violet horizon backdropping  
the contour of my lash line.

I wore my makeup
like war paint
as if to send the message:

You cannot begin
to comprehend
this darkness I carry.

It is not an energy
to be toyed with.

I am not to be toyed with.

Don't you DARE **** with me.
Don't be a stranger--check out my blog!

jadefbartlett.wixsite.com/tickledpurple

(P.S. Use a computer to ensure an optimal reading experience.)
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