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gracie Sep 7
if all i did wrong in this lifetime
was trust you,
you will send me to my grave happily.
i.b.
KJ Reed Aug 29
When there is a snake
stuck upon your roses,
hiding under strawberries,
hissing tales of thorns and rot,
cast out the snake
before burning your Eden
to the ground.
A reminder for times when people put down your work. Don't let them take what makes you happy. Get rid of their ability to affect you.
Jack Feb 2018
My head is not set on straight,
Avoidable actions that I take feed my hate,
Manipulating, deceiving, my gentle mind has gone,
‘beware the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on’,
The evil Villain of my own story,
I’m the only one able to abhor me,
Searching for happiness bed by bed,
Unable to save my own head,
How my heart feels I am never sure,
Consumed by lust, just begging for more
Sat alone, feelings of fear start to itch,
You know what they say; Karma is a *****.
i do not like who i am but i dont try to change. i am to blame for my every issue in life and for my feelings of sadness and worthlessness. youth is hard to navigate and morals are fogged by over exaggerated feelings of immature love and lust. it has taken me a long time to realise how truly unhappy i am however, as the saying goes, it will take me even longer to realise that i can change that. Stay Safe and Live well. JY x
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2017
Othello, your pearl!
Don't let it slip from your hands.
Into another.

Deceive, Iago
For what you claim not to weave
A spindle of death.

Don't, Desdemona!
Don't fear the fault of your star!
Nor the fruits of death.

The sweet strawberries
Upon sheets of white and black,
run from Orange fate.
Othello is one of my alltime favourite plays. One of many gothic classics that I can relate to in many ways.
It's been a while since I wrote some haikus too!
Iago, the self-serving menace
Knew how to play people like tennis
Got inside a guy's head
Now everyone’s dead
Including the poor moor of Venice
spacedrunk Dec 2015
i walk with no head between my shoulders
setting fires with dead lighters
dirtying the lines and the condition carrying heavy in each step
and the steady ticking of my watch has become my heart
i can't recall much between coffee grounds and a pair of soft eyes and smile
things don't seep in and it has become a taught art
something tied to me; something i tied myself to
a flood of blood to the heart
ciannie Nov 2015
fear me not, though I am armed.
I have opened my entry to that next country,
and my heels sit upon its border.
gentler, guiltier than last time, I reach for thee
and as I drown and I dry, I hope for her to see.
for my drama and theatre studies lesson today we had to reimagine the Shakespeare of Othello's dying speech into our own words, and then perform it- this was my reimagining.
Michael Cassio Jul 2015
The first time I saw you,
Standing up on stage,
Your gentle protruderence beckoned,
I yearned for your girth.
Standing alongside one Michael Cassio.
A Florentine.
My eyes could not escape.
I disregarded my A1 in English,
All I wanted was the D.
Poem about an unnamed performance of "Othello" at an undisclosed time
Lunar Nov 2014
why do you act like hamlet,
all depressed and grieved,
for your own heart shuts me out,
and it's you who's deceived?

when did you think like othello,
murderous and violent,
irrational with decisions,
making me suffer with guilty silence?

how did you turn into macbeth,
from the silky words that grace your lips,
to the venomous fangs you bit back at me,
stinging like burning, sharp whips?

because i thought you were romeo,
with your adventurous soul and romantic antics.
now you've faded away,
with all your heroic tactics.

wherefore art thou, romeo?

don't call me juliet,
if i'm just another rosaline.
shakespeare's tragedies forever
Kelli Williams May 2014
The sensual curved line on the bed
perfect.
The eyes: burning, red, leaking for reason unknown.
Private room for me and you.
Darkness quenching the need to hide the
lustrous actions ensued.
Accept your fate, useless strumpet, unrivaled *****.
Your garden grows quickly out of control.
Weeds in your rose bush, fence weighed down by
inherent overgrowth
of emotion:
fervor, passion.
A kiss.
The last sweetness of
your lips
that will ever be given
or gotten.
Death.
A sweet relief for the world
from you,
Desdemona.
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