Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Marco Dec 2020
Has the pain
not been enough
after I left you,
crawling on skinned hands and knees,
ribcage open,
heart bare, bleeding out,
exposing the shallow grave you dug
for yourself
to nestle and rest in
forever, for
as long as I breathe?
Just below the torn,
worn skin,
barely concealed and ever present,
never to be forgotten for you are,
still,
alive in my head

Death carries
no meaning here,
where you
and I
lay,
on our battlefield of blood spilled
and souls lost,
minds lost,
bodies lost in the abyss of
man’s darkness and
cruelty.

The depth of hatred can
only be matched to
the depth of love,
two halves of the same,
in your blood and mine
we lie as one.

Never reach for me again.
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
“Duellem” (The Duel)
by Charles Baudelaire
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Two combatants charged!
                                             Their fearsome swords
brightened the air with fiery sparks and blood.
Their clashing blades
                                       clinked odd serenades
reminding us: youth’s inspired by overloud love.

But now their blades lie broken, like our hearts!
Still, our savage teeth and talon-like fingernails
can do more damage than the deadliest sword
when lovers lash about with such natural flails.

In a deep ravine haunted by lynxes and panthers,
our heroes roll around in a cozy embrace,
leaving their blood to redden the colorless branches.
This abyss is pure hell; our friends occupy the place.

Come, let us roll likewise here, cruel Amazon,
let our hatred’s ardor never be over and done!

Keywords/Tags: Baudelaire, translation, French, duel, combatants, duelists, swords, sparks, blood, blades, hearts, teeth, blood, talons, lynxes, panthers, abyss, hell, Amazon, hatred, ardor, furor, passion, fury, anger
Carlo C Gomez Feb 2020
Caught red-handed,
You reach for the first thing
Your grubby metacarpus can find,
Be it a sabre or quill.

You ****** and parry away
In your journal,
All in the hopes you might
Besmirch me,
And strike it rich
At the same time.

But like Dido, Queen of Carthage,
Your bags of gold
Contain only sand.

This is your hapless undoing,
Mr. Hamilton,
Despicably so.
Don't use me as a crutch,
Fall on your own sword!

Talk about a fair amount
Of revisionist's history,
But we'll save that for
Another day...

Suffice to say:
History is in the eyes of the beholder.
No need to correct me, I'm well aware the Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton duel was with pistols, not swords. Just thought I would take a little poetic license.
Kellin Apr 2019
have mostly passed,
pressed into the pages
of history books, but how
they linger in memory!

two men, reputations
mutually compromises,
meet to prove their valor
on the feild of honor.

with great ceremony,
their seconds present
the pistols, oiled and gleaming
deadliness in the wavering light.

the rivals take their places
and, beloved guns in hand,
they stand back-to-back,
gathering courage.

eight paces in opposite
directions, at the signal, turn,
take aim, praying it’s straight,
that your sight remains plumb.

Fire.
Stephen James Mar 2019
the lord confronted—
strikes with aimed ferocity
the shogun repels
a haiku
Lynnia Feb 2019
Useless, I swore to use this, but I can’t do this
Turn around, sit down, I’ll tell you if the shoe fits
Rage fits, but I can’t scream
Burning fires in my dreams
It’s going well, or so it seems
But luck can change so fast—I mean,
Are you, are you not on board?
Care to duel? Words are my sword
It’s just too much; I can’t afford
The price of nice behavior toward
These people wearing masks
I’m not a person; I’m a task
If you don’t like me, I’ll just ask
Before I’m lost in the past
I wrote this in like 10 minutes as I was going to school which is why it’s lower in quality than a picture taken on an early-2000s flip phone
Jey Blu Dec 2017
Why does time pass more slowly when we want it to go faster?
Dripping like molasses
Flowing like tar
Sinking
slower
s l o w e r
s   l   o   w   e   r
STOP
Time freezes
"No beat, no melody"
As they say in that famous play
Hamilton never stopped
Until that bullet made him
Sometimes I wish Aaron Burr would shoot me in the same way
Time is killing me
But not fast enough
It's the waiting that does it
But what am I waiting for?
A reason to be dead?
A reason to be alive?
A reason to have a reason?
A reason.
That's what we're waiting for.
I wonder what mine is.
Eyal Lavi Sep 2017
Thrice he knocked upon her door
"May I enter?" he implored.
"I bid the welcome"
Were her words

Thus he entered
Solemnly
Into the chamber
Were the bed
The night they wed
Had marked the first-
-and last as well
When both their bodies...
Intertwined...
Had layed in bliss...
Her lips, her kiss...
All he had missed...
And dreamed and yearned...
Just to return
And look into her auburn eyes
And feel the love he was denied

Then twice he bent upon his knee
And then he stood
And then he looked
And thus he saw
It wasn't she
Not she who loved him on that night
Indeed he knows she never did.
And yet if only-
"No, not ever," were her words.
"But"-
"Never ever will you be the man I loved, of this be sure."
So sure was she.

"I disagree," was all he thought
Though words came not
What point to speak.
"There is no point," were words
he heard
From lips, her lips
Her kiss, pure bliss
Was not to be.

END PART ONE
This is part one of a short poem in two parts
Light House Jul 2017
For what??  I asked you...
What are you training for?
What exactly do you plan to fight?  Let me tell you...
Right now... you stand, merely, against ...mythical beasts.
Your war ...will be for naught...
You are imagining creatures that do not... exist.
Your soul... is torn, &
your battles ...to come
will take place upon fields...
deeper than bone.

Until you face yourself... rather... made-up villains & hells
you will only ever truly stand against...
the front gate, which you yourself
will have decorated, pretending it to be
something more intense ...& epic than it is....
Until you face yourself... you will only ever... dance
-- outside -- never, ever ...getting in.... |

Trust me, Champ.i.on ...playing around -- escapism -- is not
the way to win.

Look, again.... at your mythical beast.  Keep staring & realize....
you
are
her or him:  You Are It.

You are the knight... underneath armor.
& you are, also, undoubtedly ...the dragon.
...The one covered in scales, even further...
beneath the hero's plate & skin.

You are it...  the monster, the villain...
You are it... the shield ...the hammer
of justice.  But, never, ever forget... down deep,
you are still...  you will always be... the fire.

Your life will become ..the balance you strike ...up there,
-- underneath all of your layers -- poised, upon... the wire.
Stepping back from this.  Minor edits to follow.  May repost if I go over this more thoroughly later.

Rough.  Raw.
Next page