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Serafeim Blazej Sep 2016
Minha mãe sempre me contou a mesma história
De como Narcissus quebrou Drinick
Porque nem sempre o amor é suficiente
Ás vezes ele só causa dor

Narcissus foi o primeiro amor de Drinick
A primeira verdadeira paixão
Drinick foi o único amigo de Narcissus
Durante longos verões e todo o resto do tempo

Narcissus nunca chorou
Nem quando sentiu dor
Drinick nunca desacreditou
Nem quando chegou ao fundo do poço

Então Narcissus quebrou Drinick
Em pedaços tão pequenos
Que ninguém seria capaz de consertá-lo
E ninguém nunca consertou

Minha mãe sempre me contou a mesma história
De como Narcissus quebrou Drinick
Porque nem sempre o amor é suficiente
Ás vezes ele só causa dor

Narcissus se foi e nunca mais voltou
Drinick ficou e nunca mais correu
A história dos dois morreu
No dia em que Narcissus quebrou

Minha mãe sempre me disse
Nunca seja como Narcissus
Que perdeu tudo o que tinha
E nunca seja como Drinick
Que foi deixado sem nada

Minha mãe sempre me contou a mesma história
De como Narcissus quebrou Drinick
Porque nem sempre o amor é suficiente
Ás vezes ele só causa dor

Eu já fui Narcissus
E já tive meu Drinick
Mas a história se repetiu
Minha mãe sempre me disse

Quando Narcissus quebrou Drinick
Uma jovem lua pairava no céu
Naquela noite as estrelas não apareceram
E todas elas se apagaram do olhar de ambos
Poema.
História e canção também.
Fazia parte de uma história e é sobre dois personagens importantes dela.

("Narcissus and Drinick")
N Aug 2016
Lady made out
of magic and mayhem
bottled along with stars
and flowers
and hurricanes
and volcanoes

A brutally lovely poetry

A work of art--
not post-modern but
pre-apocalyptic

and
if he lays his eyes on you
even Narcissus
will launch
his ship
---
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJkItLf3XqE
---
s u r r e a l Jun 2016
i thought you were a painting at first,
with the way those dyed eyes matched mine,
with lips as full as a novel and as red as lower worlds,
made me think you were a painting--of something most divine.

i thought you were a painting at first,
with the way those small hands rose as mine did,
with the way those lips tasted of cookie dough and warm sugar,
with the way those eyes never seemed to leave me for naught,
and abandon me in lakes.

i thought you were a painting at first,
when i approached and eels ignited my mind--
with the thought--the picture-- the painting of you, O dear,
and set my mind within seas--clouds--of gladiolus's.

i thought you were a painting at first,
with that ever-always smile,
for do you not bleed at the mouth,
with that kryptonic sunshine?

i thought you were a painting at first, my love,
when my hand touched your sadistic smirk,
knowing i couldn't truly reach you,
and the heathers over-lapse me.

i thought you were a painting at first,
when my cheek touched your cool one,
and stained it with cherry pop blush,
for i know it's your favorite,
as you wear it to bed, all-while.

i thought you were a painting at first,
when i froze and my mind sung eulogies,
at my death at your satin feet,
for your beauty reaches past heaven.

i thought you were a painting at first,
when my smile synced with yours,
when they poked our eyes,
when they wrinkled our noses,
and when the sun shone still--even though ours were enough.

i thought you were painting at first,
until our lips met 'neath blue light,
and the shivers i bled,
fueled our world a-night.

for, dear, i thought you were a painting at first,
when i could see my heart beat--pace as yours,
and the moon and sun morphed--into entity,
and made us water lilies birthed with ravens.

i thought you were a painting at first,
when God told me,
'for you are the most beautiful person i have birthed from my lungs,
and spoke my heart to,
for you--and your painting here--are the only things that dance to my world.'

i thought you were a painting at first, my love,
when i bleed into pots and saw you doing the same,
now i know when my time is scuffed 'neath the barren sand,
your blood--our resin--stains lots.

lots.

lots.

for i know you're a stunning painting, O love,
for you lock many hearts.
i'd hope to own thrice of many,
so you could master theft over, and over, and over again.

i know you're a wondrous painting, O dear,
when people beg you to pose,
so they could see that beauty too, O love,
and kiss it a wish.

i know you're a masterpiece, love--
sweeter than melted butter,
and the finest of berries,
for you're worth--worshiped--much more than,
such mundane things.

i know you're a vintage classic, O wonder,
when my eyes turn blinding stars,
and fill up night skies.

for i knew you were a--

masterpiece...

master... piece...

master...   piece...

master.

for i knew you were a human, O master,
when my eyes gloss over in drunken clarity,
and my lips spill cider;
my hand becomes water at your touch,
for the pool knows no words,

to bask in my beauty.
So caught up within our beauty we don't see the world 'round us.
Upon a midnight’s visage airy,
T’was a lake frozen by fairy,
…and weighing on mind’s tonnage bearing?
There for ice’ opaqueness winter’s seized,
…and arms encased in rime; trees.

“Oh my,”

At dark of sky thought the eye of something troubling upon my mind?

And the frosty cloudy glass,
Take to it upon my axe,
…and the sting of shards will pass.
And will I eat at last.

Thusly, thrusting through the skull, wettened, weakened for the cold.

…and burden carry I with me,
So encased in rime is he,
Doth make of fishing’s night a chore,
Something that I do abhor!
…and stare I did into that sea,
…my frory breathe in imagery,
Dismay it did fluster me, when my eye captured by Sea,
...and in whirling thoughts could reflection see?
…and something else came back with me.

Pool with drops, light curves, dark rings; in vapid mind now find nothing...

T’was a misty sheen seen after showers?

A damp muggy place of reflecting hours,
Typhoid strange did make snowing;
The Asteraceae of my wilted flowers,
…and that Wren philosophically sings,
…and at lake a lone be -ing,

Appearing peering my soliloquy, I am therefore I into thee.
…and fixed calm stared back at me,

“What pray tell I Enquiry?”

Did something else look back at me?

...and glaring gaze thus did see, something I had hid from me,
…and gawking in my mind did ogle; a malevolence of thought once frugal...

A gaping, oscillating, pierced Abyss, forced farther back into consciousness...

Deeper in and further still,
Climb atop Old Arthur’s hill,
…and the winged Raven’s nearer, reflected on me in my mirror?
…and time did pass turning frozen dying, icy tears of sadness from my crying,

…so did silent Hume release, all the pain that’s troubling me; whilst frozen frame thus held in peace?

I fell forward and felt submerged,
Both characters, both now have merged.
And that creature which accompanied me?

Found a solace back in wine dark sea.
David Hume and Narcissus.
I peered into the nothing,
and in the nothing there, -was nothing...

I meditated softly, on darkness did I think.
Straining to see deeper and thereby caught a wink.

"No it's really there?" -To myself I said, "Tis' something?"
There is something there, no I see, there isn't nothing?

And suddenly I realized that everything I knew wasn't really something and never was it new? Never would I seek again to dwell on darkness -think, never would I ever wonder;

"What was in that noth-thing?"

Never would I hope to find that something was in nothing; for nothing is just nothing. Never would I seek again to find something in the nothing.

That darkness overwhelming, that Abyssimal Sea,
And sometimes something's in the nothing, there’s something there, you see?

And when staring in the darkness sometimes you cannot get free...

For sometimes seeking something in the
                                                                ­       Nothing

                      ...and nothing you will be.
Oscar Mann Mar 2016
Most say that Narcissus
Was punished by the Gods
The moment he fell in love
With the man in the water
Yet I don’t feel pity
But gnawing jealousy
Knowing that he
Can control the subject of his love
Romina Shyle Sep 2015
I remember how we first met,
It's a blurred image of you and the rain
Right now the things I love the most.
I remember our first fight,
you, yelling at the top of your lungs
And me,  crying my eyes out on the other side of the phone
I remember our first kiss,
I still feel bad for pulling you close so I could kiss you forever,
But you said you liked it, so it's okay.
And then I remember every time we broke up
Every broken heart, every broken moment, every shattered piece of heart
I also remember me always coming back and you always forgiving me.
This time had to be different, not the good kind of different

They say time heals everything, and I will get over you
You were the most beautiful shade of blue, but blue to me is just a color.
Of course I will get over you
Over your hugs and kisses, because I never stayed up late
thinking of how time stops every time we touch.
Of course I will get over you
You were the only reason I loved writing poetries
But poetries never meant anything to me, anyway.
Of course I will get over you,
I will eventually get over you.
And I think I know the perfect time when to

I will get over you soon,
As soon as I start believing Emma Bovary was a total *****,
And Jessie J is a bad singer,
And poetries are just words connected to one another,
And Sleeping at Last is so not the best music band ever.
I will get over you as soon as I start hating rain,
Or think that black is the most beautiful color,
Or just claiming that black is a color to begin with.
As soon as I start being all passionate about studying Biology
Or stupid trigonometry.
I will get over you, just like I'll get over flowers,
Or Sasuke, or Zuko, or English.

They think I can't get over you?
I will get over you.
You still remind me of Saturn and Venus having a baby together,
That would have probably looked like you,
But they are just planets,
I don't like planets.
So I will get over you.

Just like that prince got over that beautiful girl he danced with until midnight,
Just like the sun gets over the moon every morning when she dies,
Just like Shakespeare got over his lover or Narcissus got over himself.
It's not that hard to get over you, come on.
I will get over you, as soon as I stop feeling.
I will get over you, okay?
Just not now.
Not today.
Not ever.
SøułSurvivør Jul 2015
---

A nymph of the woodlands Echo ran
With huntress Dianna
With strength of man

Beautiful creatures
The nymphs were
Attracting Zeus, his heart stirred

Echo had a downfall
In her earthly walk
She had the last word
When she talked

Haughty Hera was Zeus's wife
Jealous women will cause strife

She went looking for her man
But clever Echo had a plan...

She drew the goddess to
Her verbal web
Had the last word to whatever said!

A vengeful god her anger licked
When she found that she was tricked

"You always wanted the last word?
Well, my dear, you
WILL BE HEARD.

But evermore you'll have a lack
You'll not start conversing...
YOU'LL ANSWER BACK !!!"


Poor Echo wandered
woodlands fair
In depression and despair

She was deep in love you see
With Narcissus, his great beauty

But she could never talk to him
So she was treated like the wind

Echo with her broken heart
In hills and caves began to haunt

'Til she simply faded away
These places she still haunts today.

As rock and stone she became

Call her, SHE WILL SAY HER NAME.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/28/2015
Glad to be back on site!
Hope you enjoy reading this.

---
r0b0t Feb 2015
Narcissus gazed upon inky space,
dust reflecting golden starlight into his face,
and he sighed in discontent,
blowing air from his lips to disturb delicate ecosystems he had no place in.
more to come in the inky space line. I suppose space may become a theme in my writings.
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