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Ayesha Mar 2021
Golden bees
over purple seas
Lies etched upon their wings
It is, I think, like that—
I cannot force this ink to scream
— Black flies
and brown moths
Dust knows what verses we carry,
but what good is she
Restless wasps
beneath a crystal cage
quiet— quiet carved over the bodies we bear

It flows like this, I suspect
They say death laughs when a man dares fly
But I dream this body
—not mine
hands
—not mine
Not mine, I swear
And I plant my smirking blade
into a soft earth
It giggles red, and red and red
and I pluck the gleaming fruit out
It smirks still—

So beautiful do they look
to my withering self
—not mine— not mine, I swear
Red upon red upon grey.
She spills for him,
and I let them meet, they
kiss and kiss and my heavy hands allow
—not mine
And I dream this dream
of a being so mine, and one so not
The flesh blends in with the crescent
a closed fist with an open chest
and I cannot tell who
smiles, who pleas, who wilts, who slumbers
Cannot tell grey

from red, from gold from black to brown
and bees
It bows like this, and you do not
part the slave from his king—but death
does not laugh
I’ve heard her weep somewhere inside
She says her wings hurt,
her wrists do
I think I tied her up with the walls of a skull
Where bees are buried
and moths lurk drunk
I do not remember now—
I did, when the blooms were still yellow
when ships talked of snoring oceans
and beetles listened—

and I dream this castle where
a maiden is ill
Walls silent,
and dresses, useless, lie
Slave girls and boys with dusty hands
and sweaty necks,
are blamed—
They have buried her in velvet quilts
and cushions stuffed with jewels
The graceful curtains
sing to her and
paintings their stories tell—
but I doubt she knows

It is, I think, blue
I cannot squeeze the beauty out my blood
and isn’t heaven lightened
by the very flames of hell
Do them heroes hear the moths’ shrieks—
up up into the sun so bright.
And I dream this canvas
where a maiden has died
Death’s song rang,
and she followed it out—
and the physician is hanged
for he could not stop her

And the queen to her lover,
surrenders her life
But far is the lover now, music sunk
deep in her bones
and the queen her voice,
surrenders, but—
The beetle never stirs
And the wasp still laughs under
Its glassy sky
— I dream the lightening
kissing a red sea
and I cannot tell purple from the queen’s pleas
And her lover’s dress
lies vacant in my chest
I cannot—
I cannot will this fly to move
and the moth—
Oh, the moth
I stare at the ceiling and hours go by—
Bardo Mar 2021
She wore a Golden Salamander (brooch)
That's quite a lizard you got there, I said
"Lizard!" she replied quite affronted, "that's no lizard, that's my Golden, my Golden Salamander",
So what does it stand for then this, this Golden Salamander, I asked
" What does it stand for, my Golden Salamander!!! ", she almost shrieked, " it stands for Strength, Courage and Fortitude, qualities you've probably never even heard of! "
O! I replied, I thought it might have meant you were just one slippery customer,
"Well, what creature would you have to encapsulate your qualities I wonder", she said, "I bet you have none".
O! But I do, I said surprising her, and then...then I whipped it out, hidden behind my shirt, a necklace, I showed it to her.
" It's...it's a Scorpion ", she said,
No! I corrected her, it's...it's a Black Scorpion
She gave a little gasp, and then she started to stammer
" You... you're... you're not Him, are you, you're not the... the real...the real Black Scorpion "
Guilty as charged I answered with a little bow, at your service Mom,
Well suddenly her glass, it fell to the floor as her hands they rushed to cradle her face
And then she let out this fearful roar
"It's!... It's the Black Scorpion!!!"
Suddenly the whole room it went quiet, all the music and chatter coming to an abrupt halt as every head turned in our direction
Then the next moment... Sheer Pandemonium had broken out
As glasses were tossed aside, tables and chairs overturned as a hundred frenzied guests scrambled toward the door to get out
But...but it was too late, Me! I'd already...farted
You see I wasn't really The Black Scorpion at all, I'd only been pretending, messing about
Secretly all the time, all along I'd really been just...yea!
I'd just been The Blue Skunk, The Blue Skunk in disguise.
There was road works on the road one day and I was stuck in a traffic jam, and the car in front of me had a little salamander painted on the back, and while I was waiting the first lines of this came to me. More silliness. Happy St Patrick's day! Cheers!
Golden halo, crown of gold- rings as you call,
Golden halo, heart so bold- yes and yes to all-
yet all the time that falls off the leaves after rain,
dry up too soon in the mid-morning sun’s heat

Golden halo, not of gold- just as ever blinding,
Golden halo, made of light- slowly ever fading-
the sky is clear, buts its clouds uncertain to cry,
Sit and wait, sit and wait and talk- golden halo

I hear your whispers, golden halo- loud and soft
echoing from the fleets of galleon clouds
and crashing nimbus waves
blaring through soft torrents of gale and gusts,
dodging the lighthouse of heavenly fire

I hear your secrets, golden halo- safe and sound
safe in me, golden halo, deep in locked chains
safe in me, high above the clouds,
the key, broken- its pieces, heavens apart
the lock molten shut

golden halo, golden light
golden secret, lips sealed tight
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Tell me, my dear,   why      you keep

that golden sun beetle      tied so       tightly around your neck?

You say       that you feel naked without it, as

                           it hangs gently

        over your *******.

                         But let me tell you something.

I feel naked without you wrapped around my neck.

                      I am totally and completely exposed without your love

       to shield me from the night.

But your arms are not a ribbon.

                                  I cannot keep you on

a leash.

             Nor do I want to.

Darling, you are           the most valuable thing in the universe            to me.

And because             you mean so much,                     I must let you fly free.

I cannot keep you tied around my neck like the scarab on yours.

I can only hope that you'd willingly hang around.
This poem was written in 2016.
It's inspired by a golden beetle necklace I had years ago.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Between silken sheets we let all of the golden clocks fall over the edge of our world.
There, we kissed and kissed until we could measure time only by the rise and fall of our broken breaths and knew no other taste
than the light in each others bones.
This poem was written in 2016.
Svetoslav Feb 2021
Teal liquid springs
golden plate glows in center
white cotton flows on surface.
Metaphor for Sky

The sky in a sunny day with fluffy clouds.

Syllable Count: 18 ~ lines 4/7/7 ~ 13 words

by Svetli
Lucia Urreta Feb 2021
No
No I do not want to hear you
Your words,
False promises.
Of how much you care,
How much you love us,
When we can see behind that curtain.
Mocking,
Thinking its all a game,
When what you think is just,
Some quirky film,
Can ****.
Can't you hear all the voices?
Can't you hear the last breaths,
Of those crying out for help,
Only to be killed?
Can't you see the way we've been treated,
Bullied,
Only for you to gain millions,
Being praised for what we are hated for.
No,
This is not a question of taste,
Or craftsmanship,
This is a call for our lives,
To be respected, to be treated with the dignity,
You wish for yourself.
And for those children,
That look up to you,
Love you,
Teach them acceptance,
Teach them love.
Teach them that those differences,
That word you are not able to say,
Disabilities,
Should be accepted,
Not mocked and scorned,
By the people surrounding us.
And that our pain,
Our expressions of sorrow,
Are not reasons for us to be hurt,
Or treated sub human.
If you are to win,
To recieve accolades,
Gain more fame,
Do not do it off the pain of others,
Stepping on years and years of trauma,
From those not willing to open their hearts,
To be truly human,
For our experiences are not for sale,
And our voices shall not be silenced.
In response to the movie "Music" winning 2 Golden Globes
Grey Feb 2021
As I watch
your soft limbs bow before me
giving me permission to climb your sturdy trunk
up to your leaves.

I peek through the branches,
the world broken up into crisscrossed windows
each one a glimpse into someone's world.

I'm reminded of my younger days,
climbing higher and higher
until the sky brushed my fingers
in a soft command.

I would be a sky pirate, searching
for something or somewhere or someone
until momma came outside with lemonade and PB&J
and all my problems were solved
with a single kiss to my forehead.

Now, though, I simply watch from above
content in spending a few moments alone,
just me and you and the sky.

Wind picks up, your delicate branches waving in the breeze
letting swaths of gold float to the ground
in curtains that coat the cracks in the pavement
and hide the imperfections with golden rain.

And in that moment, there is nowhere else I'd rather be.
2/2/2021
Inspired by golden rain trees
Grace Feb 2021
I hope today is jubilant celebration
Of a boy we watched grow up
Into a man made of liquid gold
I hope today you eat cake with your best friends
I hope today it takes you seemingly forever to blow out the candles
Because you have everything and everyone you could wish for
I hope today you laugh until your ribs hurt  
And smile until your cheeks collapse
Onto the firm bed of your jaw line, weak with exhaustion
I hope today when the sun has gone down
And the moon casts iridescent shadows on the patch of Pacific
You hear every night crashing outside your bedroom window
That you crash too into your memory foam pillow
Feeling the weight of love this world has for you
We admire more than your pretty face and rich brown curls
Your emerald eyes emit a light of their creation
Your hands covered in rings
I don’t believe to have hurt any living thing
Your lungs with strength incomparable
Sing loud emotions we feel but didn’t have the courage to speak
Your heart is brave, beats hard, loves deep
And moves mountains with the overflowing kindness pulsing in your veins
I hope today you never forget you are loved by a million
I hope today you get a kiss from your number one
Golden Boy,
Happy Birthday, my love
Happy Birthday Harry
Lu Wilson Jan 2021
In the beginning there were two young souls
Each living a lifetime before they were grown

Representing hope to the others' dreams and goals
Wounded hearts in the shadows of their own homes

The bride in a bed sheet wedding gown and a groom just 18
On their own together facing a journey unforeseen

They were judged and many counted them out
Walking in faith forward with a future in doubt

The early years came and went as their family grew
Tears of happiness arrived with joys they never knew

Life found a way facing many sorrows with mercy
They persevered bravely in the face of adversity

Despite many hardships they never gave up the fight
Forgiveness at the helm of love’s ship guided by light

The chaotic seas calmed with the hands of grace
Redemption and love intertwined like a beautiful lace

Those same souls now older, wiser still full of gratitude and care
For the their journey and family were built on hope and a prayer

We lift our glasses tonight in honor of your life together saying cheers
Mom and Dad, with all our hearts we honor your fifty years!
My parent's 50th wedding anniversary toast.
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