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tinkerbell,
she's a substitute for the real thing,
she doesn't exist
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Hk3Ep9ROms&t=101s
~

Autumn rises from the ashes of Summer
Trees grow barren, flowers die away
As the chill grabs the guiltiest sinner
She awakens without delay.

She is adorned in Autumn leaves
Her wings are dusted with gold
She lives in the hollows of trees
As what I've been told.

If you listen closely, little one
You can hear her cheery laughter
Filling the hearts of the young
As la Luna grows fatter.

Close you eyes and dream
Believe, believe, believe.


~
Fall is just around the corner. That means more writing material! I get more inspiration from the cold than from the warmth. Is that just me?
GRAVE27 Aug 19
I've been her before
Long time ago
Saving those lore
But no one ask me more

I wasn't the only one
There are others before me
Who turns word to wand
To be powerful as they may be

I've always one to believe
That writings tells story
That beyond these reef
There's something I should see
#29
Val Vik Jan 2017
я пережила чёрные ночи моей души
и воспламенилась со звуком рева!
я сгорела из жерла вулкана!
с силой вод и с духом огня:
я трансформировалась! я возрадилась!
наконец то я своя!

вновь я независима от земли и неба!
моё сердце: целитель своей вселенной!
мой живот: выносливость страданий!
мой дух: воин от негативного свойства!
моя кожа: ювелирное украшение мира!
я очищена вибраций изумрудов,
кристаллов, и всех минералов!
someone once told me

-long before when i used to play music so loud
so loud to help keep the whispers at bay
      the monsters hidden within
            the unanswered questions, doubts, unanswered,

that to be able to appreciate music,
lower the volume, take it in, softly, gently, and
hear it calmly.

but then,
        the whispers
            the monsters
                the unanswered questions
                                              doubts

 ­  are louder, s c r EA mIng,
                   loud, louder than

     the heartb e a t,
       dum, dumdum, dum.....
                    too soft.... too..

hoax.
i wanted to, but i can't hear the soft music in the screaming of what's within.
Paul Butters May 26
Where life exists
You often find a carpet
Of grass or moss or whatever.
And in sacred groves and forests
You will find
The tree.

The tree: nature’s skyscraper,
Deep roots, hard bark and leafy canopy:
Linking the Underworld to The Heavens.
Looming beauty my words can but strive
To describe.

A tree can live for many an age,
Legends about it, even longer.
Since ancient times the tree has been revered.
The Norse People had Yggdrasil:
A cosmic tree linking many worlds.
Comprehend the Eastern Indian Kalpavriksha –
A jewel of a wish fulfilling tree.
The Peace Tree of the American Iroquois,
And many more.

In West Africa the Oubangui People plant a tree
Whenever a child is born.
The Bible tells of the Tree of Life
And the Tree of Knowledge
Growing there
In The Garden of Eden.

Bow to the Tree Goddess.
Bow to The Tree
Bow to its sturdy bough.

Our tree is home
To many a creature
Nymphs and Dryads too
Maybe.

A skyscraper indeed,
Full of life
Safe in its shade
Some behind walls
Of solid wood.

We lose ourselves
Just looking
At that tangle
Of twisting branches
Spiny twigs and clouds of leaves.
Will it stoop over
And pick us up
With its enormous
Hands?

Or will it just keep playing us
A lullaby
With that whistling wind?  

Oh Tree,
You show such grandeur,
Goddess-like indeed:
Shaken by gales
Yet not disturbed
We trust.

Long Live The Tree –
Even giving us
The air we breathe.
Let your branches spread
While you reach ever upward –
A towering spire.

Paul Butters

© PB 26\5\2020. With due credit to Wikipedia.
I love trees.
Kathryn Apr 20
It is cold tonight,
leave a saucer of sweet-milk
out for the fairies.
I had a deep love for Irish folklore <3 My mother believed in fairies and if I'm honest I hope they're real. So I write them little love poems and maybe someday they'll let me dance with them.
Eleanor Apr 10
Cassandra,
I see you in the words  
of Greta Thunberg:
Filled with passion, warnings, truth.
Not believed.

Cassandra,
I see you in the dreams  
of Calpurnia;
warning Caesar, bloodied earth
Not believed.

Cassandra,
I see you in the protections
of Tony Stark;
made with fear, love
Not believed.

Did they tell you to smile more?
Ask you why you’ve “gotten involved”?
Did they belittle your prophecy,
Ignore warning after warning?
Ignore you?

Mad woman, hysterical.
You, angered Apollo
Or  
Was he always angry?
Did he believe himself so worthy
of your love that he cursed
not having it?
I don’t know.
You probably told someone
We know how that would have ended,

Cassandra,
I see you in the testimonies  
of Christine Blasey Ford,
so hurt, pained, strong.
Not believed.

Were you told to sit quietly, mind your place?
When you were attacked was it your body
She defended
Or
Her own desiccated image?
Maybe you told the trees of
Ajex’s sins, because even if  
the men listened,
A statue protected him from justice.

Cassandra,
I see you in the words
of impassioned protestors
so bright, so young.
Not believed.  

Maybe if you told them lies  
they'd believe the truth.
Maybe if you told the truth  
they'd believe the lies.
Believe anything you said.

Darling Cassandra
possible bride of Apollo.
definite belonging of King Agamemnon.
Did his children believe you?

Are you a warning to women?
Love who you are told to.
Bow to authority or
Never give up.

Are you a criticism of men?
Demanding of love.
Expecting subservience.
Justice not served.

Cassandra,
I see you in myself,
the pain they caused
the light going out  
I am not believed.

Cassandra,
Does it get better?
Have you received the peace you so deserve?
Or are you still  
Not believed.
inspired by the Greek tale of Cassandra. It draws inspiration from some of the most famous examples of people ignoring the truth but is also inspired by my own personal experiences.
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