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emlyn lua Sep 26
Daffodil, daffodil, can’t you see?
I love you sweet flower,
But you don’t love me.
You know me not, so I suppose,
I am but a mirror,
Blank as shadows.

Without people I am mute,
Mere consciousness,
A playerless lute.
Around too many others
I am a scramble,
Their presence smothers.

Daffodil, daffodil, look not listen,
I am a poor imitation
But my eyes, they glisten.
I am nothing at all of my own:
Composed of distant fragments,
Patchwork of all I’ve known.

I have nothing you could call a true voice;
The words that I speak
Are not mine of choice.
I love you, I love you,
I can never say,
Unless you do too.
emlyn lua Sep 21
Aphrodite resides in my heart.
She has been there since I wished
with no hope of solution
for loneliness to be gone.

She did that.
She Did That.

My love is an ocean yet I
I keep it in the pearlescence
of a shell I found on the shore.
Does my goddess purse her lovely lips
when she feels my fear?

of vulnerability, goddess,
of your power over me.

What is worship without fear?
Awful, terrific, exposed
to the mercy of your torment.

Perhaps soon I shall meet another
who knows the ache of her in the chest
when we look into each other’s eyes.
I pray for someone who has an ocean
like mine, boundless and full of life.

Ah, then we could mingle our waters
until two oceans become one
and proud Aphrodite can swim there
guiding the currents to where they need to be.
emlyn lua Sep 20
She stutters on the threshold:
a sun fixed on the horizon.
Bodies susurrate as she wades through them.
A daily routine – but what are days?
The cavern underneath the world admits no light from sun or moon,
Sight granted by the fragile luminosity of the pale, pale once-alive.
She walks through the dead:
has always walked through the dead
will always walk through the dead
Or – her mother was life, is life, above –
She stutters on the threshold.

She no more meanders, but strides.
The sun creaks and groans, and rises.
Breaths short and sharp, she runs:
A tree, an illogical tree in an illogical garden,
In this illogical cavern.
(but this was before logic)
Hunger pangs do not slow her,
She is hungry for change, for resolution;
For conclusion to dim the gnaw of uncertainty.

A globe gripped in a quivering hand.
She peels back the membrane
(like the skin of the earth as it opened to swallow her)
Scoops a glistening fistful of rubies
And gulps them down,
Blood of the fruit painting her chin like a child at the close of October,
Play-acting, false horror, for the sake of cloying sugars;
Her eyes are not that of a child.

She kisses the mouth of He that stole her.
They ascend, hand in terrible hand;
He sits, gestures, to Her new place beside him.
With a smile of crimson certainty,
The Queen of the Underworld takes Her throne.
lenore Jul 9
it's raining again.
medusa's let down her hair:
strands of raindrops
poison on armour.
A legend
One foretold by the fates so long ago, that the rocks that witnessed it were but seeds for the great mountains that now pierce the sky
A legend
Of four great beauties to be born in a land of mystery and magic
Each more graceful than the last
So much so that kings abandoned their ambitions of war but for the pleasure of entertaining them
The first so beautiful, her mere reflection on a lake would cause fish to forget how to swim and sink beneath the still surface
Another's beauty so enticing, great birds forsook the gift of their wings and fell from the sky but to be closer to her
The dark moon was formed because it hid it's face from the thirds luminous beauty and it's pull on the sea could not compare to her
Flowers would refuse to bloom in the presence of the fourth, for they could never rival the splendour of her face
But our legend does not end there
In secret, the fates called Aphrodite to the furthest corner of space
Only there could they dare utter only as a whisper the last of the legend
There would be a fifth beauty
Greater than all before her combined
One whose bronze skin would glow more gently than the morning star
Who's crown would provoke more awe than that of Cleopatra
Her smile so radiant sunflowers would turn to her even at midday
Her laughter would buckle the knees of immovable mountains
Admitting to Aphrodite that they only revealed this truth in such a place so their words would never take form on earth
Even so, Aphrodite feared her place among the gods threatened by this mortal
Rightfully so it turns out, for try as they might even the fates could never stop destiny
They had only but delayed her coming
The whisper echoed across time and the expenses of space
To finally reach the land where life began
And there the whisper became you
Woman, you are all the fates foresaw and more
Legend, your beauty made the voices of the greatest singers leave them for they were unworthy to put your name into melody
Woman, the notes of all instruments in the world could never compare to your laughter
In your presence, the tide never retreats from the shore
The whispers journey through breath-taking galaxies had only served to compound your majesty
So much so that, so much so
That words fled from this self-proclaimed poet
A blessing in disguise for even if all the words in all the tongues were his cohorts, he would never craft a poem fit enough to describe her beauty, your beauty
All he knows is that she was born from a whisper with stardust in her eyes
A legend whose beauty threatened a goddess
Born from a whisper with stardust in her eyes
DG May 28
Zeus handed Pandora 'pithos'.
She let her curiosity rise.
So out came

illnesses, hardships and cries,
while Pandora trapped
Hope inside.

But the myth is not quite right
When she opened the box,
I believe,

out came I.

The most evil spirit of all,
the burden on this world.
Maybe someday I can

climb back into the box,
and finally let Hope
come outside.
Alicia May 16
Witch? *****, who are you?
Locked on an island, alone.
Roasting pork, witch. *****.
Tiara I S May 11
Can you come back home
See the cracks along with the wildflowers along with the weeds
Airplane arms flying concrete lanes
Hopping- skipping- tripping pavement
Apollo high in the sky
Ticking timebomb tickling- oh so- tender
Heartbeat jumping- pumping- thumping to the love
Love encased within the home hearth
Can you come back home
To the earthen greens and towering trees

- Hold Up -

A brain zap and a brain tap massercering-
The strength- the will- the want- the need
To see it all so bright and warm
The cracks cracking- shaking- breaking into molten chasms
Wildflowers- weeds- alike swallowed
Burnt alike- murdered alike- back to the core alike
Arms crashing- smashing- snapping into concrete fields
Timebomb looming- booming- shredding shrapnel through the love
The love encased- suppressed- within the home hearth
Mother nature aint your birther- she doesn't nurture
The hearth ain't **** if your home bone cold
Warmth make a home a home
Gaia spits up- chews up- ***** up mankind
Can you come back home


Make yourself your own ******* home.
antidepressant withdrawal got me heated and Kendrick Lamar's album To **** a Butterfly is literal spoken word. A masterpiece of the Black American collective conscious- if I may add.
kaden May 8
This is the colour of sadness and the sky, a melancholy lie in disguise that can wagon through death like a martyr, only fairy tales and history make living look harder.

This is the colour of freedom and the proud, for only a boy could touch the clouds that swell and garner, icarus laughed as he fell to the ground. Only fairytales and history make living look harder.

This is the colour of envy. Should we all have to die to touch the hands of a deity as well? Icarus puked his blushing lungs out amoung flames and floating feathers and prayers and hell. Envy isnt as loud behind the bells and harpers. Only fairytales and history make living look harder.
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