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Man Apr 5
i am on a disk
and the pale, blue dot
is paler than ever before
above me
is more blue
a simulated sky
and a basin we've come to call
our shores

uncoupled
untethered and undeterred

there's a tree in my yard
whose roots reach
the barriers of our world
they long to touch
that void
that would see the waves
we tide
frozen still
She’s the last of the fairy tales.
The mobs came with pitchforks and torches.
The ashes of the golden era stains her skin.
Her magic dwindled, wounded by the sins of man.
She seeks not revenge, nor justice.
She seeks punishment.
I have been the guardian of her heart;
A heart she feels she no longer needs.
There will be a day where it beats again.
Not this day.
On this day she waits in the dark,
Waiting for the day her memory is forgotten;
The day her tragedy becomes a myth.
On that day, reckoning will come
To remind them their cruelty is unequalled
By the spirit of a fallen star.
On that day, I will be her harbinger.
On that day, I will resurrect the memory
They wished would stay buried in the depths.
On that day, the hearts of man will cry for mercy,
Only to fall upon deaf ears...
Because I made a promise.
Cross my heart, she’ll never die.
Look your devil in her eyes.
Payton Feb 24
I lay here before you,
              u n d o n e.
And it is my greatest fear.
        And it is my greatest desire.
Oh, my darling, set my
soul
      on fire.
How I have waited for this moment, how I have yearned to be so close to you.
For you to be so close to me,
for you to see
       me
in nothing
but the      pale light of the
moon.
This poem was written in 2016.
Nylee Dec 2020
Maybe I have it
It is showing its sign
Maybe it is all
inside my mind
dreaming, sleeping
all I think about

I should wrap it all up
this month's seventeenth
it will be the umpteenth
time I'd think about
should I prepare
or let it happen
the natural way.

Should I mend fences
should I grow tulips
should I throw olive branches
Or let this pass.

it is going cold
my hands are turning pale,
my eyes are burning up
the vision disappearing
I am seeing white washed walls
the chemical smell
It is happening, I am turning
It has seeped in.
Cardboard-Jones Nov 2020
The sky transitions from yellow to orange,
From orange to red, and red to dusk.
Her snowy hair and diamond skin
Render its final sparkle before the sun sleeps.
Fallen royalty, she is.
I met her at the crossroads
On a path leading somewhere, and to nowhere.
We shared the moment of anguish.
“Your majesty,” I say
But her gentle yet worn hands cover my words.
“Shh,” her eyes tell me.
No interest in words of the past,
No desire to venture towards the future, no.
Instead we stand in silence
Allowing the burden of hope to settle in.
The sadness behind her beauty is daunting.
She has known love before,
But never felt the warmth of being in it.
Her tears are figurative, for I know the look.
My hand searches for hers and
We watch the darkness swallow the sun.

“I’ll be dead by morning, oh the night is young.
I’ll be dead by morning, my final song is sung.”
Cross Boundry Sep 2020
oh, pale lover
don't cry the tears of past pain
i'll hold you in the dark
of the night
shivering under the moon

oh, darling flower
let me guide you to warmth
i'll wrap you in blankets
and my love
follow me through the world

oh, creature cold
you'll find your way in life
use me as your lantern in
the effortless dark
let me light your path

oh, pale creature
i'll love you as you do
keep your eyes to the moon
and your hands in mine
this love will never die
love me, pale creature, love as you do
He was a rat, she was a rat
down in one hole we did dwell
both were as pale as a witch's cat
they loved each other well.

He had a tail, she had a tail
both long and fine
each said 'yours is the finest tall
in the world, except for mine.'

He smelt the cheese, she smelt the cheese,
they both said it was good.
both remarked it would greatly add
to the taste of our daily food.

He went out, she went out,
I saw them go with pain
what happened to them i never can tell
for they never came back again.
Folorunsho Mike Iyanuoluwa
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Mayflies
by Michael R. Burch

These standing stones have stood the test of time
but who are you
                             and what are you
                                                             and why?
As brief as mist, as transient, as pale ...
Inconsequential mayfly!

Perhaps the thought of love inspired hope?
Do midges love? Do stars bend down to see?
Do gods commend the kindnesses of ants
to aphids? Does one eel impress the sea?

Are mayflies missed by mountains? Do the stars
regret the glowworm’s stellar mimicry
the day it dies? Does not the world go on
as if it’s no great matter, not to be?

Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose.
And yet somehow you’re everything to me.

Originally published by Clementine Unbound. Keywords/Tags: mayfly, mayflies, time, mist, transient, transience, pale, inconsequential, stars, sea, everything, A. E. Housman quote
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Kindred (II)
by Michael R. Burch

Rise, pale disastrous moon!
What is love, but a heightened effect
of time, light and distance?

Did you burn once,
before you became
so remote, so detached,

so coldly, inhumanly lustrous,
before you were able to assume
the very pallor of love itself?

What is the dawn now, to you or to me?
We are as one,
out of favor with the sun.

We would exhume
the white corpse of love
for a last dance,

and yet we will not.
We will let her be,
let her abide,

for she is nothing now,
to you
or to me.

Published by Songs of Innocence. Keywords/Tags: moon, pale, disastrous, remote, detached, cold, inhuman, lustrous, pallor, love, itself, white, corpse
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Sometimes the Dead
by Michael R. Burch

Sometimes we catch them out of the corners of our eyes—
     the pale dead.
          After they have fled
the gourds of their bodies, like escaping fragrances they rise.

Once they have become a cloud’s mist, sometimes like the rain
     they descend;
they appear, sometimes silver like laughter,
to gladden the hearts of men.

Sometimes like a pale gray fog, they drift
     unencumbered, yet lumbrously,
          as if over the sea
there was the lightest vapor even Atlas could not lift.

Sometimes they haunt our dreams like forgotten melodies
     only half-remembered.
          Though they lie dismembered
in black catacombs, sepulchers and dismal graves; although they have committed felonies,

yet they are us. Someday soon we will meet them in the graveyard dust
     blood-engorged, but never sated
          since Cain slew Abel.
But until we become them, let us steadfastly forget them, even as we know our children must ...

Keywords/Tags: pale, dead, shades, shadows, fragrance, mist, vapor, fog, rain, forgotten, melodies, dismembered, tombs, graves, catacombs, sepulchers, mausoleums, graveyard, dust
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