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Thera Lance Aug 13
A maiden lost before her time,
Her dying light casts a shadow upon a man's face
Revealing the monster that has always existed.

A fool reaches forward to grasp an illusion,
A friend who is nothing but the mirror of a mirage
Always avoiding the truth in the reflection.

Welcome back to the island, friends,
For it has been so long since then,
When we wandered these shores in childish wonder
And played these games in the shadows of absent stars.
I actually used this one as a book blurb for my dark fantasy Yugioh fanfiction on Wattpad. I wanted to avoid using the "heart-pounding adventure" or other clique phrases, and this little poem ended up being a lot more successful at drawing people in than I expected. So, yay for experimentation!
A red moon cast on a folly filled night
Humans hid away in fright
A haunting melody was in the air tonight
For the Bone King had arisen from his lair

A lone maiden of silky woven red dared
For she ventured into lands mortals bewared
Slowly following the music of the dead
Not knowing where it led

She encountered the King amongst the tombs of the undead
The land around him had already dwindled
Not even a single flower had remained
But she did not dare fleed

Slowly she took his bony hand
As they danced amongst his land
The Bone King was in disbelief
Why was this fair maiden not scared?

“Maiden, wherefore art thou not afraid? I dareth not guaranteeth thou art safe, f'r I am but a monst'r.”
“Why should I be afraid of the most magnificent being ever made? My king, you fail to understand, for our souls are a reflection of one another.”
"I am a monst'r, am I not? F'r all apart from thee did withdraw, leaving me withthe sc'rn undead."
"You are for them, my King. But what value do the words they utter hold? Beauty rests in the eye of the beholder."

"And f'r me, thou art the most wondrous."
This is my personal edit on a short poem under the video "Waltz of the Bone King". Credits for half of the poem and for the idea that sparked my interest go to "Infinite Daydreams"
stopdoopy Jul 1
Do you feel it?
As if we're drawn together,
like soulmates.
Maybe you do,
I wont ever know,
but I feel it always ends the same.
Maybe we're not meant to be together.
Perhaps it's always been this one sided...
despite the words you've said,
no matter how we lived.
God and priest,
maiden and servant,
in a war somewhere,
I don't think we've ever ended up together,
isn't that sad, my dear, Aphrodite?
I suppose it's for the best, darling.
Had to get a last poem in before pride month is over! Hope y'all had a great one <3
Crucifix May 13
Storm laden eyes, of silk spun lightning.
Baked in hard night, and the warm cold of dream velvet.
Steel blue eyes. In the forests of silver swords they cut wind and wood in their gaze song, Singing silently through me. The frost fire of haunted gold glides nested upon winter kissed skin. Untouched by light. Moonlight dressed midnight saint. Alchemical colidoscope prayer. She is the essence of heavenly hyperspace. She is the princess of the Elysium ethereum.
Which hollow souls fill for.
Prince eduard Apr 26
Siiting in a throne
A holy maiden worthy of its title:
Queen in battle
Majesty, and glory with a crown

Been in sorrow
Gone through tribulation
But there's tomorrow
Where happiness is a seedling
She's with us, her hand, lending

Oh mighty woman
A paragon in virtue
Thy enemies sue you
But to no compare they'd be thrown

A mother of all nation
A sister of all dear children
Oh God in Heaven
Deemed you worthy, indeed it happen: now you're

A Queen upon a throne
Mother Mary
Now she's upon a throne
face turmeric smeared,
the dawn is a coy maiden,
that just came of age!
Smearing the face of a girl who just attained puberty with turmeric(which has many functions as a spice in food  with anti-toxic effects, herbal paste for cosmetic and skin protection application etc ) is part of traditional puberty rights  in India.
On a quiet winter afternoon
Near her balcony,
A lonely maiden sat gazing at the horizon.
Her starry eyes focused at a distant,
Wanting to know what lies beyond.
Under the bright blue sky.

A teen jumps out of his school bus
His face red with a bruise,
He makes his way towards his house.
Exhausted of his unfair life,
He limps as he climbs the stairs.
Under the bright blue sky.

Ten years go by
The two meet in a foreign land,
Bruised, broken and alone.
Their eyes lock in an eternal duel,
In a quiet a lane of a bustling city.
Under the bright blue sky.

Sixty years later
A lady gazes towards the horizon,
Reminiscing her younger times.
As nostalgia plays on the background,
She looks at her husband and smiles.
Under the bright blue sky.

Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2019.
All Rights Reserved.
I finally tried to follow the new pattern, as done by many well-known poets of my generation, the pattern of no rhymes. Although, I must say it was not easy for me, you see I am old school and I like poetry with rhyme. So, I repeated one rhyming line throughout the entire poem just for my satisfaction. Sorry for being selfish and I hope you like it.
William Allen Jan 15
And so the sea, she claimed three.

Taking the Mariner, Maiden, & unborn babe.

Together they shall live
in the cold currents.

Ne'er being separate

For when the sea calls,
the heart must listen.

Giving itself wholly
to the cold and unforgiving tide.

And the sea she sang
a hymnal for thee
a hymnal for three.

Together in the harmony
of the cold
and unforgiving tide.

And the sea she sang
a hymnal for thee
a hymnal for three.
This is part X of a ten-part series titled, "Weathered: A Tale of Love and Loss." This is the final poem of this ten-part series, and I hope that you've enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing and sharing it with you. If you have any questions about any of the pieces written, or where inspiraition came for each piecce, please reach out to me and I will gladly answer. If oyu would like to see the original format of these pieces, you may find them on instagram at: @speakertyler

Thank you.
William Allen Jan 15
In the sudden moments
her heart sank
one-thousand leagues
into the sea of tears.

The yearning aching heart
beat violently in her chest.

Hands trembling
she reached
for the oil lamp dimly lit.

The slow clapping of bare feet
against those aged cherry floors.

Her delicate hand
pushed open the finished oak door
that led to their sanctuary.

The door,
with all the worlds hope
despair behind it

She gathered her
ivory white slip
and made her way to the shore

The cold rush of the November tide
met her at waist height.

The weight of her despondent heart
would be enough to hold her down.

The top of her auburn hair.

Her footsteps
now but distant memories
of the sand.

Her body now one with the sea.
This is part IX of a ten-part story titled, "Weathered: A Tale of Love and Loss."
When writing this story, I knew from the beginning that I did not want a happy ending. Not for the sake of being sad, but rather because I'm not fond of traditional happy endings in stories. I feel like the weight of the story loses some gravity when it's happy at the end.
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