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Tara Apr 2020
She comes only on the darkest of nights,
an alluring songstress of sleep.
She dances in the dreams and fantasies of many,
the cost of her seduction is steep.

She can steal the hearts of the most loyal men,
tempt any woman's desire.
She creates a sensuous paradise of lust,
beware the consequences are dire.

Many a soul have been lost to her charm,
led easily into the moonlight.
Enticed by the sway of her hips as she twirls,
a captivating show of sultry delight.

She's an insatiable spirit of shameless passion,
her words are provocative lies.
For when she lures you into her arms,
you become a star in her sky.

She draws you away from your loved ones on Earth,
her smile overloads your every nerve.
Yet you are forced to watch over the ones you have left,
a fate you do not deserve.

There is no way to fight her embrace,
no magic spell or plea.
You'll find yourself yearning for when she takes your hand,
and whispers "Come away with me".

She'll gaze upon her glittering conquests,
with an experienced collector's eye.
She'll laugh and dance among her trophies,
naught they can do but cry.

So when you happen upon a shooting star,
racing across the sky.
Know that it is not a star; merely stardust,
a tear escaping a captured eye.
chitragupta Mar 2020
To judge, to write
to scribble in the daylight
and crumple at midnight
To account for placid instincts
with the strength of an eagle's sight
The blue ink, the golden pen,
and the satchel white
That is all my birth-right

✒️
Belated world poetry day. Mash up chitragupta and a poet. I wanted to put this out sooner but just got caught up in a lot of work from home. Stay safe, everyone.
SoZaka Apr 2018
an angel to save me
from the wrong paths of life
you are always loved with me
through the windowless alleys
of heartbreak and strife
a fertile soul
with the smallest need sprouting within
grown to harvest
the fruit we bear together
Äŧül Jul 2017
Ethics of war were not followed,
Neither by the army under me,
Nor by that wise commander,
I shattered all the regulations,
Especially the ones formulated by me.
I, Đroņa, was a war criminal,
They had him surrounded when
I commanded Abhimanyu's killing.
Classical rules of war idealized,
Don't attack the outnumbered enemy,
I helped form the Chakravyuha,
A forbidden aggressive war formation,
'Abhimanyu' was killed by many,
He was so outnumbered by our army,
Đraupađi, his mother, cursed me,
She cursed I'll die lamenting my son.
Đroņa was an immortal who died willing so after he misinterpreted that his son Aśvatthama had died when an elephant named Aśvatthama died but Krishna only exclaimed "Aśvatthama has been killed!"

My HP Poem #1633
©Atul Kaushal
noor ande Jul 2016
Beloved wanderer,
What are you running after?
your external commitment to reach crassness is taller than a benevolent Tikbalang
you are quicker than its long legs to lead a soul astray
But my beloved,
where is your soul?
your Passion is non-existent
like an ondine, all you seek is an immortal soul to waste
on your blinded fate
on the woes you continue to create
and your petty blown up mates
a thick, bold flesh they’ll never extricate
surrounding the empty stems from which they originate
My beloved,
your eyeballs were so viciously extracted and replaced
with poisonous bile
your hellhound eyes are so vile
if one stares at them twice
they’ll be seized, and they’ll be sacrificed
and their souls disintegrate
their roots begin to decay
they merge with your spirits
and they aimlessly gyrate
around in circles,
my beloved, you **** the souls
dumping their bodies in holes
indulgent in mutilating the skin around your heart
vandalising your worth and claiming it's art
but my beloved wanderer
where is your drive?
where is your start?
I touch her hand in mine  
and see allegory cage that Magellanic will bask
and shall dorado not inhibit her glow in cheek now subdue
that wind may howl indeed so wine can stiffen resolve
only then find hers in living here upon my arrival  
this culture won't shock my veins in smite
and bliss quite avow does her only navel. Alas
Blissful Sea
Joshua Penrod Jun 2016
What if love gave way to hate, and hate as equal to love

What a wondrous deed it would be!

To leave Athena confounded in the heavens above

The gods suspended among amusement and jealousy

How tranquil would the movements of adoration and goddess be

If hate were thief to an expression called love

"An expression called love" -JP

— The End —