Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Bohemian Mar 2019
What of the stories,what of you,what of the words or what of my dew
Lies and lies 
Strangled the fliers 
Witnessed it, he has admirers 
Sweetness and tartness ignored 
Mulberry swallowed but in the heart it sored
What would the 'dead lips' pen
When it had not the truth,son
Curses though slip off
Feelings be never any drawf 
For to hate 
Once there should have been love's bait tight
How dangling and dwindling 
No shore was he ever kindling 
Hours and hours 
It takes no par 
Touch not that knight 
He has swords defending with might 
How barren is he and
Knows not any scabbard
Those wands of enigma 
That suits not the noble hands off stigma
Suitors of temper 
Shooters of blood towels much damper 
Is it your blood ? 
Shut-up for god's sake 
Let's arrange him a slumber
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
There was once a poet from long ago
Who stories told of transformations
I shall tell of one that you may not know
Pyramus and Thisbe who loved through a cracked foundation

Whose houses were connected, neighbors were they
Families ensnared in rivalry and outrage
Oh how did it so weigh
On these blind lovers left with lips to assuage!

A crack so small only a desperate lover could see
A whisper only could dance through to ease
Two star-crossed lovers crouching on hands and knees
Expressing words that warm and please

To bring to light
Their love they did agree
To meet late at night
By the white mulberry tree

Thisbe first to show and await did she
Until a loud rustle filled the air
Frightened she ran off and hid thee
So fast her veil escaped the grasp of her hair

A lioness fresh from feeding
Paraded on passing by,
She went sniffing and licking
Veil now red left under the midnight sky

Pyramus, with the white specked tree in view
Sees just an empty sheath
Just a mulberry tree under a blanket of moonlit blue
With a crimson soaked veil underneath

Thinking he lost his heart's desire
She the cure to eternal strife
Life now nothing but mire
Wishes to follow her in afterlife

A sword he did reveal
With both hands set and firm
Fell on this stinging steel
Left as food for the callous worms

Oh how his blood did gush
Painting white mulberries incarnadine
Thisbe returning in such a rush
For Pyramus she did pine

A lifeless corpse awaits for her
Under that maledict tree
Blood soaked veil she did incur
So she dropped to one knee

Life without him she hated
A breast she did beat
Cried to the gods, fated
His sword she did greet

Forbidden love changed white to red
The berries we have today
Ill fated lovers left dead
To embrace in rot and decay

Together on the pyre
Rivalry has come to end
Lovers cradled in fire
Ashes in one urn, together again.

— The End —