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Savio Fonseca Mar 2021
No one, can stop My Tears
and make them....Disappear.
Coz each time one Falls,
another is set to Appear.
There are Tears I've bottled,
deep down in My Soul.
It's about My Broken Love,
that went down a ****** Hole.
The moments We spent,
come flashing back at Me.
My Life can never be like,
the Waves that roar at Sea.
So I go about fixing things,
by writing a few Broken Rhymes.
Coz no mortal has gone back
and brought back good old Times.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2021
We are the result of all we can imagine came before us,
in this bubble
of being we find our selves staring back
into from
the abyss, where luck is not a factor.
{from the movie}
nay, from Nietzsche, the drinking game
- on
- each time one looks into the abyss
- the abyss looks back, so luck is not a factor

sure. that makes perfectible sense, there's a signal,
a fluctuation,
measure it, man, and tell us all you know it means.

Ferlinghetti died yesterday, I could have known him,
if I'd tried.
I did not care for his view of truth. But he was young,
last time I took him serious.
I notice,
I don't care for my view of truth at that age.
But did you see him in the Last Waltz,
he was unmused, I felt bad for him.

And now he's dead and being reread. That's pretty cool.
For Christmas in 1964, I was given "The Secret Meaning of Things." I think it scarred me. I know it scared me... is this true... no, but I had to prove it myself... imagine dying after being a famous poet in the 20th century...
old willow Feb 2021
In life, I cross with red dust.
We are blades of grass, amidst war, we sway.
Visited by lustful desire, we succumb to its whisper.
Should I fight my desire?
Visited by sad news, we succumb to despair.
Should I fight my desire?
Mortal dust continue to drift, landing on my frugal body.
In the end, let them all come, greet them as sire.
Succumb to lust, to grief, to joy, to pleasure,
But let my heart abide - pay red dust no heed.
old willow Feb 2021
I dwell in this vast world.
Seeing loved one's passing through life.
Believe that my heart can soar above heaven.
Believed that my heart transcend heaven,
Yanking the soul of my people away,
Place them back on earth.
If my heart still lingers on earth,
How could I soar nine heavens above?
If my heart is above heaven,
Why would my heart desire mortal dust below?
Dust to dust, mortal dies,
let begone bygone, cleaning the dust off myself.
Sabika Dec 2020
I watch the sun rise
And the moon descend,
Over and over
Again and again.

What was once
Bright and vibrant
Has become dull and dim,
Even time ages,
Yet I remain still therein.

When the Earth burns
And the stars collapse,
I'll float alone in the dark,
My eyes roll back in my skull,
I am lifted up high,
But I'll never fall.

I watch the sun rise,
And the moon descend,
Death following death,
Over and over,
Again and once again
You are convinced
Your life has meaning
Because you still haven't witnessed,
Time
Die.
Imagine if you were immortal.
Lyn-Purcell Oct 2020

Fine queen of Carthage
Kingdom grew from a bull's hide
Vow burns within her heart


New day, new haiku!
Yes, the Women of Myth series is ready to be continued! ^.^
Hard to believe that this is my 980th poem! I've extended the list so a lot to come now.
This haiku is about Queen Dido [aka Elissa], the legendary founding queen of Carthage, known as Tunisia today which is located in Africa, on the north-western coast.  I believe her name means 'wanderer' which suits her perfectly, to be honest.

Dido's story is one that is inspirational as well as tragic. Before she became the Queen of Carthage, she was a Princess of Tyre, a city in today's Lebanon.
After her father, King Mattan passed away [In Virgil's Aeneid, the King is named Belus], he wanted his children, Dido and Pygmalion to co-rule the Kingdom. At the time, Dido was married to Sychaeus / Acerbas, High Priest [ as well as and her paternal uncle] who amassed great wealth. The moment Mattan died, Pygmalion seized power and killed the high priest to gain his wealth and riches but it was not to be as Acerbas hid his wealth which Dido found and with it, as well as a handful of supporters, she fled Tyre, sailing the Mediterranean until they ended up in the north-western coast of Africa.

Safe from her brother's wrath, she came to meet the ruler of the land, Iarbas, and sold her land that can be covered by a bull's skin. Dido was as shrewd as she was beautiful. She cleverly cut the bull's skin into strips and used to enclose land for herself and her people, to Iarbas' shock and chagrin but clearly, he was impressed and intrigued. He honoured his word and the kingdom of Carthage was founded. The king watched her from afar, noting that under her rule, the kingdom thrived and he wanted her for himself.

But Dido made a vow to herself that she will take no other man as her husband. Iarbas was not swayed. He wanted her so much that reportedly, he threatened war. Feeling trapped and wanting to keep her word, Dido took her own life. Some say by sheathing a blade into herself on the funeral pyre another, by throwing herself into the pyre itself.

In Virgil's legendary poem, Aeneid, Dido fell head over heels for the Trojan Hero, Aeneas but still, her husband had a firm place in her heart. She took her own life when he was called away, following his duty to the gods.
But to be honest, I rather prefer the original story over Virgil's. For it gives this beautifully clever and tragic queen a more well-rounded view. Though Virgil's narrative is similar and further exaggerates her tragic end through Aeneas rejecting her which majorly contributed to her end.

Dido is a fascinating character to me. She deserves every respect, this wonderful mortal queen. 🌹
Anyway, thank you all for growing followers, I'm forever humbled and grateful for the support 🙏🌹💜
Here's the link for the growing collection:
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/132853/the-women-of-myth/
Be back tomorrow with another one!
Please take care of yourselves and stay safe!
Much love,
Lyn 💜
M R White Sep 2020
Mortality is a strange thing. I don't think of her often.
But when I do, she knocks me to my knees. Taking all the air out of my lungs. She's powerful and stoic. Who thinks of her when they are the top of the world?
Not one. But she's always there, to catch you when you're sinking into the floor. Painfully reminding you she's the only one who you speak to when the night is dark and cold.
She's tricky and sly.
Taking the old, but also the young,
a baby, hardly a week old.
a kid, barely a quarter of a century young.
How do I justify her actions? Why not me? I didn't ask for these growing pains. But again, nobody does. Nobody asks to be plucked from the Earth.
Why does she chose to ****** every beautiful being from this Earth?
Why is she so strange?
Perhaps, she must remind us that we are just mortals.
We are of this Earth, she is not.
She must remind us, because we often forget.
struggling with mortality, more than usual.
annh Aug 2020
I closed my eyes against the mortal limitations of this world and settled back to watch reruns of my youth. Discouragement and dissatisfaction gave way to golden hours and glory days, depicted in vivid technicolour and accompanied by a flugelhorn fandango.
‘No story is the same to us after a lapse of time; or rather we who read it are no longer the same interpreters.’
- George Eliot
Sabika Jul 2020
The tap drips onto
still waters.
Ripples echo and remind me
of my mortality,
then I am reminded of
my morality
and suddenly
I don't have much time.
Ripples echo
and remind me of
my loneliness and
suddenly
nothing I own is truly
mine.

These waters are deep
and dark and stare
into the abyss inside.
A hollow shell governed by
reckless winds,
what happens when
water and wind
collide?
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