They all have happy endings.
Queens and Kings
Princes and Princesses,
brave Heroes and fulfilled dreams.

I wish I have one too
Someone of pure heart and so true
who will give me my happily-ever-after,
a life with less sadness and more laughter.

That's what I wished for when I was a child
when I still had a heart so mild
Then it changed when I started loving Princes and Kings
coz my heart became part of their other broken things.

Fiery colors above our heads,

Long figures dancing around,

Flowing and draped in reds

With ornaments and crowns.

Nature's Kings and Queens.

Autumn in all it's splendor.

Some spectacular scenes,

Burning fast like ember.

It's my first poem published here, hope some liked it.
Abraham Oct 12

Bing bing bong annouce
train to Chiang Mai departs soon!
the king sleeps dog barks

Pagan Paul Oct 3

.
A shepherd gently tends his flocks,
on the night of the Autumn equinox.
Patiently guarding his wayward sheep,
as the Oak King prepares for sleep.

And the Holly King from slumber wakes,
with solemnity his tired head he shakes.
Then joyous laughter he openly roars,
his half year reign once more restored.

Guiding all Nature to a bed of rest,
to energise, regrow, is his duty quest.
Bringing his peace and tranquility serene,
for the comfort of his bridal Queen.

For She is Nature, there all year long,
loved and celebrated in many a song.
No greater love could She invoke,
her two wild husbands, Holly and Oak.

So Oak pens his warm Summer verse,
and Holly writes of cold Winters' worst.
Her heart draped upon their thrones,
bringing joy to this eternal Game of Poems.



© Pagan Paul (03/10/17)

.
Patrick Sep 28

Hardwood floors scratched up from the dog’s claws
As he chased after us, panting and slobbering
Because he was the Dragon
And we were the Knights

You told me we could slay the dragon
And one day he wouldn’t haunt us
And one day we’d see the sun seep through the storm clouds
And we’d feast like Kings and Queens

We’d read stories in the summer heat
Under the shade of our Oak
Sweating glasses of lemonade by our sides
Stories where the good guys won
And the bad guys stumbled home
With sagging shoulders

But the years went by
And you let them gray your hair
And kill your flame

Get up, the fight isn’t lost
The dragon can be slain
Get up, Mom
The dragon can be slain

Like men, from dust and clay she is born.
By men, her face and delicate form is made,
Through heat and glaze and Water she’ll soon scorn.
A fine novelty, A porcelain maid.
On her crown are luscious locks of mohair,
Adorned with rosettes, by masters no doubt!
And glass eyes tell the secrets she can’t share
For her lips are in an eternal pout.
Velvet and lace conceals her nakedness
Away from a stranger’s unwelcome gaze.
And this Belle who looks alive, is lifeless.
A sleeping beauty born by the fire’s blaze.
Yet a doll is not unlike a real man.
Both are puppets, Each to a different hand

old poem i made for my creative writing class.
IndiGo Aug 12

These decorative shackles I wear
Make me feel superior I know if my ancestors were to see me, they’d look in despair
I wear my diamond choker
And my gold rope chain slangs
I can’t wait for chaining day as I pride fully walk to the jeweler whistling and sing
These decorative shackles I wear
Ease the generational pains of the slave and tribal warfare
I know if our ancestors were to see us now, they’d see kings, queens and heirs
I sail the Atlantic ocean in large ships in awe at the view and the majestic blue
Ironically my ancestors sailed before me, but in slave sloops
Forgetting that this water tells my story, his-story and has my blood too
Only the strongest melaninated few surpass this ocean leaving a few behind
The only time they were freed from their shackles was when death took over
Deposing them over board
Never to see beyond that blinding hopeful horizon line
These decorative shackles I wear
These expensive whips I own- merely make up for what my ancestors never owned
If our ancestors could see us now
I wonder if they’d be proud
Perhaps they would frown and say
“You’re the modern day slaves now.”
From chains to chains you see how the cycle of black lives go
We’re the new era slaves this story is yet untold
These decorative shackles we flaunt and wear
Help to make the
European man billionaires.
These decorative shackles and chains make me feel free
It’s like I’m buying my form of freedom concealed as luxury.

wraiths Aug 11

There are tales of a dragon
that sits atop gold and silver coins,
the protector of a gleaming treasure
sought by thieves with eyes that glint like rubies.
the dragon is asleep.

The creature has blue scales
colored like dusk
that shimmer when he stirs,
slow and slothful.
the dragon is asleep.

Tight-lipped bandits try
to slink past the sleeping beast,
but once they enter the dragon's lair
and reach for handfuls of glinting coins,
they're greeted by the creature's hot breath.
the dragon is asleep.

The dragon tosses and turns -
perhaps from a nightmare -
and inhales sharply.
the bandits hold their breath
to keep the creature from awakening.
the dragon is asleep,
but a restless sleeper at that.

The creature unlocks his jaw to yawn
and lets out a long sigh to follow.
blue flames lick his sharp teeth
as heat unfurls from his mouth;
two thin wisps of smoke trail
from his nostrils.
the bandit is turned to ash,
and the dragon is still asleep.

kayla Aug 3

You must lock the door and check it twice more:
3's for me.

Stop and check the windows too:
2's are for you.

Keep in mind the monsters outside, lest we let them in;
4's are for whores.

Turn the deadbolt until you hear it click, then do it again;
6 for dicks.

Before you get in, check under your bed. But before falling asleep don't forget,
The real monsters are inside of your head.

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