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Lyn-Purcell Jul 2020

Petal-soft wings stir
Warm zephyrs guide her to graves
Ascend by rainbows


Another woman of myth, the Goddess Iris!
I feel like she doesn't get enough love and admiration.
I absolutely adore this greek Goddess (and Irises happen to be one of my favourite flowers, haha)!
Here's the link for the growing collection:
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/132853/the-women-of-myth/
Much love,
Lyn 💜
I S A A C Jun 2020
Silence is scary because it means all your thoughts remain in your head
Femme Fatale, black widow waiting for the vibrations of the web
Insecure in my feelings I weep, grand dreams of being wed
But too often the bridesmaid but that is beside me

I just wish I never followed this path again
I could've trusted my intuition and not the way you led
Instead of harboring my ocean inside, I freeze
Focus on anything, the trees, the buzzing bees
But time after time I can feel you creep into my head
My emotional seas uprooted by your breeze
Reminding me of your touch, the way you breathe, the lack

Hoping finally the key I need would come to me
Open me up like a door exposing my heart to the floor
After years of leave, frozen perfectly
You exposed me to everything, now my body needs

Maybe I tried escaping myself by diving into you
But how I forget that you simply a mirror
Showcasing my biggest fear... myself
Sweet like a lollipop but the red was a warning
Lee Carter Mar 2020
I bumbled through the bramble,
****** and stings and me entwined.
They cut me deep and deeper
As I stumbled through the vine.

I fell out onto a clearing
Where I bled smally on the grass
And though this moment pains me
I pray to gods it lasts.

She sat above me,  beautiful,
Upon a throne of thorn.
Her supple frame caressed by they,
Yet remained untorn.

A lady or a fairy...
Or even better still!
A godess of those prickly vines
That wrapped around her will!

With every step the ivy squeezed
And yet I dare not care.
If she would waste but a breath on me,
I would not want for air...
nim Jun 2020
poetry, poetry;
my little fairy,
i cut open my wrist
and lovely daisies blossomed!

poetry, tiny pretty ghost,
is it a good sign?
would you heal me, please?
i feel their roots in my veins...

poetry, you silly phantom,
it isn't pleasant anymore!
they're ******* my blood,
there's vultures in my bloodflow.

poetry, silver fanged wraith,
your roots are in my bones,
it's a temple crushing down.
the past is hunting me down.

poetry, my little fairy.
i'm nothing more than dust.
i love you, but i fall apart.
you brought my old demons back.

poetry, my little fairy;
i cut my wrist open,
and lovely rotten daisies bloomed!
Lela May 2020
Sometimes I wonder if what I'm feeling is happiness or just being less sad
Because I forgot what happy means
It's like happiness is my uncle that I see only once a year on christmas and I only say hi because I'm to scared to star a conversation because I wouldn't know what to talk about

How do I talk to a person I have nothing in common with and
why am I supposed to be the one to start the conversation?

I can't wrap my head around the fact that some poeple are mentally stable and just go about their day when they wake up without crying after the alarm rings
Why can't I be one of them?

When I was younger my parents would read me stories about magic and fairies. They told me it's not real but I still wanted to believe.
Now when people tell me it's going to get better I just stuff these words where the memories of me wanting to be a fairy are

Far away
Because I am no longer a child
and I don't believe in something that doesn't exist
Nicole May 2020
Never forget
People sell fairy tales
And
Fairy tales don't exist.
Yuchu May 2020
I shoved the absurdity into the woodpile
The fire was crackling and raging
Licking the bottom of the *** that is already worn
Demons and ghosts and phantoms of people who went crazy are dancing inside
Why are you moving it, how tiring!
The cat in the room asked
Why don't you join us, how stupid!
Red ***** on the chopping board asked
No, I said, no
I used ridiculousness to pile firewood higher
The fire will not go out in nine hundred and ninety-one days
I'm going to use this fire to cook, bathe and change clothes
When reality is more absurd than even magical realism stories...
Francesca Rose May 2020
A husk forever blazing black
Apathetic inferno made
Glittering in the moonlight
The band of thieves steal away.

In her roughened burlap sack
She carried the burning shade
Cradled among the glinting gold
Yet longing for the blade.

A creature full of foul designs
Denizens of the glade
A forest of young lovers' kisses
Renders her afraid.

She'd been here once before, in fumes,
Breathed the sunlight of the day,
and her heart had gasped
and touched a spark
which set it all aflame.

She was sharp, the thief,
and saw the lovely fae
Who stole her life and sought her soul
And burned her just the same.

When she returned, all was calm
Lady long absconded
With her love to the fae so cruelly bonded
Her loss a bitter balm.

The thief and the fairy met one night
And found solace in another
And since it burned so midnight bright
Both women lost a lover.
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