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Sydney 3d
The sun gets up
"Welcome!"
The children cry
The sky starts to glow
With the sun's aura
Beating her arms
Down on the children
They start to sweat
She tries
To reach to the children
Because she's lonely
They go inside
And cry,
"It's hot outside!"
The sun frowns
And reaches to the plants instead
They bend towards her
But don't come
With her
She sighs,
And slowly starts to paint
The sky
With many colors
And welcomes the moon
Who paints it
All black.
On this warm spring day,
The light peers in my window,
Quiet as it can,
Asking questions of shadows:
"Do these walls have ears?
And what does the clock-face see?
Is the lamp lonely,
And does the pillow know tears?"
The shadows answer,
In their sweetest honeyed voice,
"We gave the walls ears,
And the clock has our blank face.
The lamp loves the dark,
Just as the pillow drinks tears.
Won't you come deeper,
Deeper into our shadows,
And hear what we know?"
Will the light claim its homeland,
Burning up the dark
And swallowing the night whole,
Or will it shrink back,
Afraid to see the hard truth
That my shadows breathe
And the darkness grows deeper
Fated to hold the sleeper?
From May 2017
Melodrama whispers in your ear like a soft hiss
His voice incredibly quiet
He grabs a hold of your neck
Digging his filthy fingernails in your skin

Don’t scream
     Don’t speak

Staring into his painfully blue eyes longing for an ounce of humanity
Finding none, only sleepless nights and suffering
Melodrama stealthily retrieves a silver antique dagger
HOLDING onto it tightly, too tightly
His hands begin to ooze red
Worst of all,
     he laughed
He laughed, At the pain he was inflicting on himself
Infatuated with the ambivalent stinging
This time he holds the dagger to your neck
The chilling metal carving your flesh
His matted, jet black hair tickles your neck
  
Please no
     You beg.
  
I’m terribly sorry. But I cannot stop, he whispers

With a slight grin filled with selfishness
He drags the dagger along her porcelain skin, lifting the life out of her
Her limp body falls to the floor.
Melodrama let’s out a wail.
     What have I done? How could I be this selfish?
Oh no, oh no!

His slim body collapses next to her, cradling her body in his arms
No. He cries. Tracing his hands over her wounds
Fixating his attention on the turning doorknob
His heart drops, panic overcoming him
The husband, walks nonchalantly into the horrific room
Asking one not-so-simple question.
     What are we going to do with the body?
Yet another dark poem. This is a personified emotion piece. My emotion was melodrama. Completed on 10/2/20.
Sydney Oct 8
The clouds came in to hide the sun
And they started to cry
Because they had no fun


The clouds stomped their mighty feet
Boom, boom
But I thought the day was going to be sweet

Then the sun pushed them out of the way
And gave the clouds a warning
“Okay,” they’d say
And they went on their way
Palak Datta Oct 3
Dear Reader,

Whenever you fall, fall hard;
For someone, risk getting scarred.
He will be no Romeo, you won't be Juliet either;
So cut some slack because great stories are about neither!
Don't be afraid of one-sidedness,
Don't always look for same-mindedness!
There will never be a prince-charming,
Break-ups are not worth self-harming!
If you ever let someone in your heart,
Cherish them always as if an immortal art!
And if someone wants to move out of there,
Let them leave and don't resort to yell and swear!

Because readers, I am above oxytocin and hatred,
I am neither permanent nor sacred!
So find me wherever you can;
And spread me wherever you go!
For I am the bitter-sweet fruit of what you sow.

Yours lovingly
Love
Max Oct 1
The electric wires form a fox
Eyes and ears pointed at my face
Her mouth nips in the air
She's watching me
Trying to figure out if I'm prey or predator

The woods whisper your name when you walk by
When you sinned we weep of your graciousness
Rejection is a script you know too well
And I'm sorry for being a ghostwriter

Do you know? I ask
How they view you,
You are cunning and they fear it
You are smart and it's terrifying for them
You are the legends scratching cracks into history
What you have done is birth a new era
Our spines read of your sly rebellion

Millions of people have been touched by those stories
But sides have formed
And you have become a martyr

They’ve made you an example,
And I am sorry that your story is not unique
I know so many foxes
Some with white hair
Braided and ready for war
Reckless with ambition
Others with piercing black eyes
Sharp and not scared of death
Saw the injustice and called it out of its shadow

They are scared of them
Called them witches riddled with sins
Killed them without a remark for justice
Leaving their bodies in the forest
Abandon and erased
Trees have been born by their hearts
Nourished by their blood

I walked into the forest
Touched the ground
Felted the air
And came out a phoenix

So I understand the hesitation
The double step before you move
The hitch in your breath before you ask
But I am stone and statue
I speak when spoken too
Just like you, they have made me a lie
So staring will solve nothing now

Ask and you shall know what side I am on
Prey or predator?

You are still staring and I am looking back
I can see the wheels turning in your head
Prey or predator?
And taking pity
Taking rebellion by the hand
Taking you by the hand
Refusing to make you my enemy
I say "neither"
Because exil is also an exception
Because love unite foes
Because I have played the game for too long too
And you look tired of always needing to pick sides
This is 1/3 of my school assigment
Theme: Nature
Place where I wrote this: Looking at the electric towers from my window
Sorrows thrown into the river of styx.
Proselytising raindrops to teardrops.
Cry me an alter alternate reality.
Dark abstruse universe within me.
Water ran a blithe obscurity.
Now, give your last line.
one of the July series , but on the thirty-first.
Haley Protega Aug 28
A full Moon on the horizon of a powder-blue sky

The gentle breeze of Dawn passes me by,

caressing my cheeks like a lost lover,

soft as the clouds which in the distance hover.


I turn around, my back to the Moon:

the melody of daybreak begins its silent tune.

The first gossamer threads of Dawn's embrace,

cobwebs of brightness, Light made of lace.


A lonely bird towards the Moon flies,

hoping in vain to stop its goodbyes;

and my romantic soul melancholically sighs,

attempting to imprint the image in my eyes.


As the sunrise ripens, a celestial fruit,

it robs the lunar ambience, grabbing its loot.

And it basks in the riches that it slowly steals,

in brilliant ombre shades, as the Moon - defeated - reels.


The night's companion quietly fades,

ethereal pallor on now greyish shades;

no more powder-blue, grey turns to white -

it's the bed of clouds, prepared for the nightlight.


You've done your job, illuminating the way,

to travellers and dreamers, lest they go astray;

Rest for a while, take a little break,

until Sun retreats - then you can awake'.


The Poets' Lamp, nocturnal glow,

you'll shine again, with stars in tow.
20.4.2019.
Kara Shirlene Aug 22
Like the Autumn breeze
We must learn to breathe-
softly, slowly, chill, serene.
For in our breath,
chattering mind will cease.
inhale, exhale, feel at peace.

Like the Autumn leaves
We must learn to fall-
Mother Earth embraces all.
For in our fall,
inner strength is built
ensuring always that we won't wilt.

Like the Autumn sun
We must learn to shine-
brightly, golden, so divine.
For in our shine,
lighting up the world
and those around to feel impearled.

Like the Autumn moon
We must learn to change-
Cycles never stay the same.
For in our change,
new growth is found.
within our hearts, may we astound.

Like the Autumn song
We must learn to sing-
Stillness into everything.
For in our song,
sweet melodies.
transformation; such a precious thing.
©KSS 9/2018
David Jul 8
You'll never get to experience the depth of the still water until you're submerged.
The iceberg of the mind...
There are no mistakes, only lessons manifesting in various degrees of challenge.
Adversity is the crucible through which character is shaped.
Let my equanimity be mistaken for indifference,
as my tolerance is for acceptance.
Because the mountain piercing the heavens is actually a dormant volcano.
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