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Carmen 18h
(PLEASE WATCH LINK) Inspiration:

“My darkness gives you a fright…?
Here, take my hand and let me show you the beauty in the night.
The reason why I never could close my eyes”

He came to me with eyes that shine like stars
And a smile as bright as the moon.
He carries himself with a mysterious aura,
one that oh so dangerously lures me in.
He holds out his arm; he doesn't know
that giving him my hand
is like giving him my heart.

Her hand lays in my palm.
Perfect fit.

His skin feels cold
“The darkness could be beautiful?”

“Only if you're willing to look for it…”

His voice calms me like the familiar stillness of the night.
My feet move for themselves
I’m captivated by his stare; he doesnt allow me to read him,
but wears a look of grim, hopeless almost.
Curious, I become.
“I am.”
Something in him flickers,
like the whole night sky lit up in his eyes.
Maelynn 5d
The water
was lovely, dark, and deep;
wild and free
it called to me,
invited me in
what a shame i couldn’t swim.
The people around me compel me to go home
They tell me that i don't belong here
But this wind
This mysteriously blowing wind
Kisses my cheeks
Embraces every strand of my hair
Gently caresses my knuckles
And says 'don't let them dim the light that shines in your eyes'
And somehow i know that this place
this place,right here
is where i want to be!
Kaela Jun 12
The Game...
          It involves trust
Enter your name...
          Not a nickname
                              not a fake name
                                        it will break honesty
You have a team...
          You have a leader
                              the aim is to **** them
                                        - But are you loyal?
          Teamwork is the key
                              The killer wins the game
                                        - But are you a traitor?
The Rules...
          - You must show trust
                              - You must be honest
                                        - You must be loyal
Breaking The Rules...
          - You will be sentenced to death

Welcome to the game...!
Ego PrOfETa Jun 7
I dare to Visualize
with my mind

Combining two precious jewels
with a crystalized Purple Eye
And with another Eye
Like a White Lotus flower

To see clearly with these Eyes

Something like a  Rainbow Sign
In a strange  Blue / Green

While standing amidst
The Crawling Vines
And the failed  power-lines
In the Background

Yet no sound or cry
Can be uttered or heard

Cause like Death?
I am shrouded in Mystery

And as my whiskers twitch with Vigor
I so oddly seem to Sigh  and Smile
at the same time

For I Am
So pure and Divinely

Yes I Am
The first true Signs
           of Misery
This was based on a picture prompt I did for a contest
Lara Jun 6
What do you see in the mirror?

Do you see yourself?
Do you see your soul?
Do you see your emotions?
Do you see how people treat you?

And who do you see standing behind you?
Who is there for you and can’t stop watching you in the mirror?
Who do you want to see as yourself in the mirror?
Are you how you want to be?

And all this in a mysterious mirror who reflects your own appearance.
The Owls are Watching

In memory of Helen Martins
'The Owl House'
Nieu Bethesda, South Africa

In sculpture and rock rested your art
Cement faces that speak volumes
Of emotions and tales untold
As mysterious as your life itself
Glittering walls of crushed glass
That shone by candlelight
Outside of art you were branded
Though remembered as unique and ahead of your time
With big glass eyes the owls watch the world
What was once your sanctuary
Now a showcase to the world
Recognized at last
Unspeakable loneliness of a soul misunderstood
Now your handwritten letters are framed and displayed for all to read
But you don't mind the curiosity of mankind
With cement hands raised to the heavens facing the east
You drank your chosen cup
Your Mecca now complete

Written by Sean Achilleos
28 March 2016©

How this poem came about:

I was a visitor to the Owl House Nieu-Bethesda South Africa in 2015. Approximately, one year later I was inspired to write a poem about the late great Helen Martins. I was intrigued by the eccentricity of this woman.

One evening while in my living room and enjoying a glass of wine, my eye caught the cement owl in my windowsill which I had purchased outside the Owl House from a vendor. I saw its big blue glass eyes glaring at me. At the time I was listening to a Jennifer Ferguson record, and decided to write while the music was playing. Once I had completed the poem I felt exhausted. Then a very strange phenomena occurred, the lights went off for a few seconds and came back on, unlike a power surge. It reoccurred a second time that same evening, and never since. It felt like a supernatural intervention. As far fetched as it may sound, it seemed like Mrs. Martins had personally given her approval of the poem. I then decided to email it to the official Owl House website. I didn't think much would come of it. However, they embraced the poem and were generous enough to display it on their official Website for a number of years under a section titled "A Visitor's Perspective".
Jennifer Apr 28
dogs snarl and
yowl as she approaches:
her silken dress trailing
the ground,
her ashen face, unsmiling.

lady of the night: she leads
her army of ghouls with cold,
heavy chains that make a
sickening sound as they
stroke against the black concrete.

she is unseen, but watching,
cold malice in her
shadowed eyes.
she can see the sweat beading
upon your pallid face
as you struggle to wake, gasping.

heed her unnatural beauty,
for it is too dark to see
her true face. she
parts the road thrice
and awaits your decision.
a smile curls her lips:

she is warning you.
Tim Kitchen Apr 20
Alone I entered the room.
Something wasn’t right.
The patio door was open.
There he was, hiding in the corner.
That was the last straw.
He’d been bothering me
and my family all week.
We were all afraid of him.

As I cautiously approached him
he went for me. Trying to evade
him I fell and cut my head
on the edge of the radiator.

Finally I managed to get the better
of him, striking him hard with
my right hand. Then I angrily
launched into him.
Didn’t know I had it in me.
After a few moments
It was all over.
he was gone. I had killed him!

I managed to get him off the floor
and carried him outside,
dumping him behind the trees
at the bottom of the garden.

I was pleased to be rid of him
before the family came back home.
Later I stood looking down the garden
through the kitchen window
to where he was. I felt a bit guilty
but was somehow relieved.
I had always hated Wasps!
At least that’s one less to bother us.
Caitlyn Seal Apr 15
I do not know her name
For she said she did not have one
I know not where she come
For she said she was from nowhere

I met Her at the carnival
she was at the Funhouse
her clothes did not match
And her tangled golden hair reached her waist
what caught my attention was the balloon
A color I’d never seen before
Drawn in, I followed her inside
She was humming
She carried herself as a traveler
passing through each moment
Even as we were going up steps,
It felt as though we were getting deeper
The lights were dimming
The noise was fading
It was me and her
We entered the hall of mirrors
when she began to laugh
Reaching painful tones
Her balloon popped
And with a smile on her face
She turned around
She looked at me with her empty sockets
And said, “Is it not funny to you?
Mirrors all around me
And I still can not see who I am!”
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