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A stranger among familiar faces.
His return was celebrated by all.
Surface, he was the same.
None ever looked in his eyes.
Ignored the wounds from his travels.
He was distant.
Estranged from his former life.

What happened to my friend?
What did he see?
Did he leave something behind?
Or was it taken from him?
lila Sep 2019
Danger be the man who bleeds the plights
of men of myth.
Don't you know that even Troy fell?
I do not throw pebbles at
your window in the night.
My eyes: yellow, unclouded;
mead and flowers drip thick
from my words:
banal and intoxicating.
Poppies blooming wild on timeworn cheeks,
Wine-dark hair in disarray.
Perhaps I have read too much into
the man who has read it all.
And perhaps he is only sea-mist mirage
cursed to appear an Adonis.

I made the ocean so that you would cross it.
It is only in this forced distance that
I am allowed to transcend this plain world;
in which I am bound to book
and you are bound to her.
Because in a land of gods and monsters
it seems not so strange that I am the other woman.
Clever sorceress who loves and lets you leave,
and with whom you know you might have stayed

Sail far, far away from me.
sail far, far away from me, storied king, favored by the gods
lila Sep 2019
We stood at that crossroads,

bathed in lamplight,


he never even knew this was the end of us.

He pulled me close, closer

than I had ever been held

and I knew

we could never see each other again.

Under the wash of night,

I had finally found a ship calling out to me.

Someone had heard my call for help.

Someone had seen me.

For so long it was I who left them:

where they stood;

where I could still love them.

But I pushed him ahead of me.

I stood there and made him leave me

before my heart could chase after him.

He tried to turn back to me

with one last

dream-defying grin and I

squeezed my eyes shut.

I saw him once more after that,

I missed him by just a second,

I did not call out to him.

Our time together was over.

He told me to sail to him,

and the magic words to say;

I vowed for her sake to never utter them.
kenny Jul 2019
Chained and collared
By Mara’s daughters

No safe word Baby,
bound by

They put their
on me

and they drew blood
In the symbol of currency

Then they sold my soul
Into *** slavery;

No one blinded the cyclops
Now we’re walking wounded
Fueled by hubris
We’re headed toward the rocks.

We’re only gonna die
For our own arrogance
Caught up in some bad religion
Without self
The sirens sing,

Some people wanna
watch the world burn
Some die before they rise the fire
History repeats
We don’t learn
Burn the forest into a funeral pyre
Tramel Griffith Apr 2019
Every single night as the body dies,

poetry percolates the mind,

and I find myself,

taking one of those dark odysseys into the soul  

with questions that swim into the infinity  

on what is poetry, what does it behold:

Is it the rivers that lead the birds back to the nest?

           Is it the waters, eroding the stones,

           smoothing the pebbles that build a home?

           Is it the crackling cinders, floating from the flames  

           of a wildfire to die upon its first breath in the saltine air?

           Is it the evergreen grass and the bark of an old oak tree,

           thirsty for rain to wet the insatiable soil

           that grows branches that speak with possibility?  

           Is it the milk & honey that drips off the dewy lips  

          of the sun to feed its golden nectar into our moribund souls? –

          still starving for more.

          Is it the reason that I am seduced by the moon  

          that undresses me with its iridescent light,

         baptizing me with its glow?  

         Is the constellation of stars, separated by space

         but connected by longing,

         by arms reaching for arms?


        is it the journey,  

       the walk through the wavering mountains,

       the climb ants take up into the elephant hills,

       the ships drifting upon the cerulean seas,

       guided by the bursting horizon  

       and the winds of a calming breeze?
Jason Lingaya Feb 2019
For you I’ll learn to fly

High up high

Above the skies

Past the limits

Of the mind

To the serene siege

Of the soul

Where light is dim

And time is still

You are my pride

My Odyssey

My everything

Ghosts and Demons behold

To mine fears I command

Coz today coz of you

My quest is within.
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2019


Down in the shrouded wood a wanderer walks
And dreams the dreamers story he has lived.
Sidled by the stream that sheds blue waters
By the beds, trailing the rail of loves unknown
Kiss and a voice that conjures truest bliss,
Down in the drink where sweet Ophelia sleeps;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the dreamer, he is dreaming . . .
Hair, that ropes the stoic man upon his mount.
Hair, making souls’ lost ending breath a shout,
And hair that weighs the wind, teaches it to sing;
Hair, wending whirlpools waving fools to dive in.


Lost at land’s end the sea lions, washed-up, wail
And buzzards coast where eagles flail, rip tides
Assail and chop the collected bones they drop;
It is a chalky bone-yard break, golden escarpments
Wake and a ******’s salty sermons shake;
Where gathering ghosts glom and chide steeping,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the seeker, he is seeking . . .
Eyes that turn the sands and are mirrors,
Eyes that taught the books of Alexandria,
Eyes that shook the flesh and are seers,
Eyes that lit the pyres, burned true believers.


Deep in the dark wood the waters rush, hush,
Cramp, crew and creep, melodiously tread,
Trammel, and burn as furies in keeping true
The melting moon, the onerous owl, fluttering
Things, muttering wings, cones in darkness
Flings and filmy time flicks by the wayside;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the lover, he is longing . . .
Love, lithe and lyric, he sees your sweeping shapes.
Peace, parsed and pained he hears the voicing gape.
Blind, bliss’d and shamed he wears the votive drapes.
Hungered, thirsted and gone; seeks your pearly gate.


Out in the forest maze the jarring sun seeps
And swirls, only to roust the traveler onward
Where soon he must meet the faces in the grotto
Down in destroyed lands by the seas’ unreasoning
Chime, deep in the dark whine of the shining mermaids,
Where the doomed cry, round the navel of the world,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the doomed, they are crying . . .
“****** beauty bade us, in a star crossed chrysalis,
Made us, choose a desert’s winter of loneliness.
Heed our fate and leave this valley torn of bliss;
The many millions of locust fall in ripest fields.”
Robin Lemmen Dec 2018
And it was almost as if
I found stars in your eyes again
Lying on your bed, head on your thigh
Stroking my cheek
A lazy smile haunting the corners of your mouth
Beautiful, as the lava lamp gave light
And my eyes closed slowly
Hold me, I am home
For a second I was looking at the boy
The man I once got to call my best friend
And we kissed the stars into meteors
Soaring, spinning, free
We were infinite
But we never got the soft landing we wished for
We crashed into ourselves
Losing sight of the moon and stars
Just like we did back then
Like we always do
Until we are no more than mere stardust
Kristina Weeks Jun 2018
Serenade me with your skin made of silk
Your hand on my face the softest caress
I want to lose myself in your body
An odyssey of lust and obsession  

Your eyes hold everything and nothing
Windows to the universe
Their sultry allure calling like a siren
Whispering secrets you’ll never tell me

And those longing lips
They plead for a kiss with every smirk
Of which I’m happy to offer
They tremble with each touch

Your arms offer safety and security
Enveloping embrace protective and strong
But gently hold me like a blanket
Never let me go

Your voice my soul’s solace
Say your words that ****** my spirit
Spinning and dancing in my head
Anything anything you want

You are my rock in this hard place
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