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Arke Nov 2018
you photograph me
the parts I hate
my stomach and legs
the shutter clicks
zoom on my stretch marks
my jiggly bits and thighs
draped with see-through fabric
my skin for your eyes
to capture me
through your lens
raw and rose-coloured
we'll see what develops tonight
hot lights flash stars
my eyes are fixed on
your lips as they smirk
when you catch me
off-guard and too real
you're too close to my face
you're too close to my body
you're too close to my heart
and for a moment I'm scared
that your camera really does
capture all of me
all the parts I hate
my darkness and anger
the sad memories
the things I've done
the people I've hurt
I'm nervous you see me
but you whisper I'm beautiful
there's another click and flash
for a moment I believe you
and hope the camera captures
the me that you see
through your lens
Ran out of my own fantasies so decided to write about someone else's
Julian C Jaynes Nov 2018
If one wished to hear a story
Of love and glory,
They need look no further
Than the tale of the Dame.
This Dame’s story, however,
Appears to have never
Been read. Yes,the Dame has been tucked
Solitarily
Into a corner of a shelf in an aisle of a
Library called Memory.
Temporarily
Momentarily
Permanently
Forgotten.
Yes, the tale will be told no more
Of her many suitors gathered ‘round the village well
Each thinking themselves to be a whale
Of a catch. And oh, how their faces fell
When the Dame denied each one their dowry, her peals of laughter ringing like a bell
As they turned their tails
And shuffled away.
They’ll never find a page of that.

One will never speak of the Dame’s great deeds.
How innumerable men, in time of need
Fell prostrate before her, their pathetic pleas
Receiving none of her sympathy.
She arrived with one purpose, that
Purpose being to combat
The mighty Dragon
Who, swaggerin’ and braggin’,
Challenged, “No man dare approach me!”
Her answer? “Only a woman.”
Laughed the Dragon, “Oh really?”
Said she, “God is with me!”
And then from out the sea rose lightning
And struck, blinding all who could see.
The Dragon, disappeared.
The people, freed.

Her power will not be remembered.
For the world turns even ash
Into cinders.
Sumedh Nov 2018
I was flying in the air,
I was walking on the water,
I had overwhelming power,
I couldn't get any better.

All of a sudden I heard uncanny voice,
It looked like it was dragon,
It was burning down the city,
I couldn't leave him slacken.

I asked him to leave in peace,
He said "kid just stop the prattle",
I didn't really meant to hurt him,
But it was time for us to battle.

We used all of our powers,
And exchanged some 100 blows,
I was losing my conciousness,
As I felt my heart beat slows.

Suddenly it got lil weird,
Dragon pushed me to and fro,
He started yelling in a woman's voice,
I felt someone tickling my toe.

The voice got much more louder,
I saw my mom and brother,
With a frown I soon realised,
That it was all my dream none other.

I requested my mom,
I was feeling kinda nettled,
"Wake me up a bit later
I must go back to sleep",
Coz I had left a battle unsettled !
Everyone had their own silly fantasies as a child and vague dreams and thoughts....
That thought brought me to write these few stanzas... Happy Children's Day y'all !
Shannon Butler Nov 2018
In the land of andere
In the world of endless meander
The heir has long been foretold
Carrying the power of the queens of old
A demon shall ally with an angel
Two shall become one in danger
One of four will be chosen
The daughter of the one who was stolen
With an iron sword she shall swing
Peace or chaos she may bring
For a thousand years was fought
To their knees they all shall be brought
The last of the andere has foreseen
The unfathered shall one day be queen
This is the beginning of a fantasy I'm writing, a prophecy that kicks it off. Would love feedback!
Lou Vaughn Nov 2018
Three years ago today, the moment he walked through the door, it wasn't deja vu, it was a memory of a fantasy I played out in my mind hundreds of times as a little girl, as a teenager, as a woman, finally catching up in real time - a fantasy of a man I would meet someday who would be all I could ever desire in a lover, friend, and husband.

Three years ago today, the moment he walked through the door, standing 6' 14", I recognized him immediately as the nameless, faceless man I imagined for years and I finally felt alive! authentic! electric!

Three years ago today, the moment he walked through the door, I fell irrevocably in love and I never want to put myself back together again.
Emma Nov 2018
Tilted sword please spare my bow and arrow
I beg you not to throw your violet venom unto my wings of sparrow
Have mercy on my slicked backed and chipped horns
Less I throw my guardian and with him my thorns
Another poem made based on a character of mine, who's called Ryoko. Her ancestor was a Japanese swordsman most famous for slaying a dragon, on the request of angels, that was affecting the Asian parts of Heaven. He got to take the dragon as a trophy, and decided to put the dead monster locked away in his house, where magic let its blood flow, so he could put the blood into weapons for his descendants. Lol, guess this poem is more about him than Ryoko.
Pagan Paul Nov 2018
.
The hypotenuse stretched
as far as the eye could see,
across a vast lateral plain
an horizon mathematically perfect.
And yet …
In the main square of the hypotenuse
the town crier bellowed out tidings.
The Triangle Triumvirate was unstable,
the discovery, nay re-discovery,
of the Mystery, the most horrific of Mysteries,
the Mystery of the missing
Fourth-Side.

Dweeb was a box standard barbarian.
Quick to anger, slow of wit.
Like last night at dinner.
He had Three potatoes, his sister had Four.
He shouted and thumped the table,
his angry voice expunging his ire.
Then his sister had explained,
to calm and reassure him.
Three was more than Four
because it had Five letters in it.
And Five is more than Four.
He thought about his axe,
then about his abacus,
and then he ate his spuds.

The Fourth-Side drifted in spacial isolation.
Of course now it wasn't a Side.
Being attached to nothing, it was just a line,
but it had some tricks.
It could coil and curl itself
to form rude words in joined up writing.
It floated on reminiscing,
about the **** angles it had made
with all its previous adjacent lovers.
The memory caused spasms
and it formed into a rude word
that should never ever be written down.

Teena, Dweeb's sister, vomited.
She had kissed a puppy,
and was being sick in the morning,
was she pregnant?
But, it was never a puppy, always a stork.
He mum had told her, warned her
'never kiss an errant stalk'.
Her mum died of the pox, whatever that is.
Something clicked in her head.
Oh! Stork and stalk!
Well they do sound the same,
especially in a harsh barbarian accent.
But the puppy had sneezed
as she had kissed it goodnight.
She thought about her axe.
And then she threw up again.


Equations to be solved #7
Vlad the Impaler was a Barbarian
+
Vlad the Impaler was a Libra
=
Dracula was a Librarian?



Right Angle was worried.
Duly so.
If the Fourth-Side Mystery was solved
he'd have three other Right Angles to deal with,
instead of a sixty and a thirty.
The Triangle Triumvirate would cease.
An intense Quadrilateral Mexican stand-off
would ruffle his perfect two-seventy external.
He had to divert attention away,
far, far away, from the Fourth-Side.
By Jove he had it! Bingo!
Let them try to solve
the Mystery of
The Back-Side.

Dweeb loved winding up his sister.
So he hid her puppy in a box.
But now he was worried.
Was the puppy still alive?
Or dead? Or both?
This may sound like a ****** stupid question
but where did that last thought come from?
Yes!
Yes what?
Yes, it was a ****** stupid question!

Teena though it very strange.
When she rang the dinner Triangle
the cat sat on the mat,
Salivating!
Curiouser and curiouser.
Conditioned response or learnt behaviour?
Teena dismissed the thought line,
she didn't ask ****** stupid questions.

It had no idea
about its status as a Mystery.
The Fourth-Side has issues.
Complicated issues.
It had somehow conspired
to tie itself in a knot.
And spacial isolation had become crowded.
Missing links everywhere, the sofa of time,
excommunicated integers, 1970's wallpaper,
it all floated about in spacial isolation.
Above all Fourth-Side was intensely agitated.
Couldn't anyone quieten that yapping puppy?




© Pagan Paul (06/11/18)
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My psychedelic washing machine mind on spin cycle!

https://hellopoetry.com/collection/29495/strange-world/
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