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Twilight shadows gather
in an empty park,
to celebrate the close of day usher in the dark.

They run around and
chase each other
whispers on the ground
one last game of hide and seek
before they can't be found

They relish dusk until
our star finally bows its head.
Then in a rush
the park's hush-hush
til dawn gets out of bed
I've always believed in shadow monsters.  Inspired by the immortal Michaelangelo's Dusk and Dawn sculpture in the Medici mausoleum.
Bardo May 2018
Across the room I watch you from afar
So much to see, so much to admire
I can only gawk in awe:
Shimmering softly beneath the party
   lights
Delicate as fine porcelain, elegant just
   like a China doll
Little Perky !  diminutive little button
   of a nose
A sublime protuberance, with a
   wonderful angular symmetry;
Like a beautiful ballerina in the centre
   of the face
One lonely Cinderella, forever
   overlooked and unsung
Neglected, passed over, the great
   unmentioned one;
So still and so quiet, mysterious like a
   question mark -
"Little Perky, don't you fret, I! Me!
I'll be your poet though a poor poet I
   be
I'll hold up your charms for the whole
   wide world to see,
I'll be your dashing Prince too, if you
   let me".

Finely chiselled, exquisitely sculpted
Better than any Michaelangelo
And I love the little wiggle;
How silently you sit there and how
   patient, enduring all
Stuck between the two drama Queens
Eyes all painted up, that flit and dart
Twinkling and fluttering outrageously
   like their a class apart,
And a rouged up Mouth's sulky lips,
   burning rubber
Busy gabbing away, running off like a
   wild piano;
But then there's you Little Perky,
   simplicity itself
Shy bulbous beauty, a throwback to
   childhoods innocent days:
Like the others, you play the game
You go along but it's not the same,
See you sniff into your little hankie
And know that beneath, you're
   probably not all that happy,
You seem to say (to me at least)
" I hoped for more, I dreamt - I dreamt
    of other things
And other nights than these".
I see you Little Perky, I see you all
   alone in your lonely prison cell
I hear your sniffles, your silent sobs
   and sighs.

When pinned in the corner and
   assailed from all sides
My eyes, they secretly run to your
   quiet hill, that lonely mountain,
Like Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights
I'll wait for you Little One
I'll wait for you there..... my Cathy
(O! lovely wild and spirited Cathy)
I'll wait for you through the wind, the
   rain and the snow
I'll wait for you to come
I'll wait for the real 'You' to show,
Beyond all the bravado and the big
   bluster notes
Beyond the crowds constraining looks
I'll wait for you, my Love,
We'll laugh again, and dance beneath
   the stars
We'll live the dreams that once we had.

Little Perky, sweet alarm bell of the
   soul, shiny little bugle that gleams
Go on now, give it one more blow
One huge giant elephantine blast
That'll sweep them all away
And leave only you and me here,
   alone at last
Facing each other across this floor
O! Little Perky, my Cinderella, my
   Cathy.......my Heart!
Yes, I'm a nose man. Wrote this when my Mom was dying, it started as a joke but then went somewhere else. I never read Wuthering Heights but saw the old film, if I remember right Heathcliff & Cathy when young used to meet at a tall rock on the Moors they used to call their castle before she went and married the rich neighbor.
Divine Michaelangelo,
a name the whole world knows.
Dear genius of the arts
a captor of young hearts.
I hear the world has handed you
roses and praises for what you drew,
and no one knows more about your greatness
no one else but you,
but I love you.
I love you...

I'll give you my heart, Michaelangelo
what will you make out of it?
Could you create something splendid
as you have done with David?

And you did.

A work of the great,
chiseled a masterpiece, but I can't deny the pain.
My love was yours but you didn't want it in exchange.
You were blinded by pride's game.

But when the universe asked for its prize
and took away the great man's sight,
you lost it all, and we watched you fall.
But I helped you up, and stayed with you
despite it all.
Hannah Apr 2016
And what of the thick-thighed woman

            who held a dying god in her lap?

            History has silenced her grief to stone.

But what of endurance as sharp as love?



Do Zeus’s tears still stain her dress?

            Her atlas hands guide thorned crowns

            To rest, as the weight of heaven

forsaken, collapses.



Womb made machine;

           Reach out your hand and feel the crimson––

           Hips that birthed the civilizations of the world,

I worship the god called woman.

— The End —