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August 17h
isn't that the cruelest punishment, though?
giving back the mask?
CJ Sep 3
Don’t know how, don’t know when
I just started looking for you every now and then
Can’t shake off the feeling that you’re always nearby
Knowing that it’s hopeless, don’t know why I try

Searching for you through countless faces
I'm everywhere pulling out all my aces
I must have already bumped into you before---
---maybe that’s the reason why I happen to finally open my door

I start to close my eyes and I’m suddenly in a different place
We’re caught in between winds leaving me in a daze
It’s all in my head but I can’t seem to make out your face
You remain a phantom—dangerous, but beguiling and made by grace

- c.s. (110213)
My father bought you with a tender heart
On 414 Main Street, Avon, New Jersey
He gave you to my mother as a token
Of their newly proposed marriage.

Your exterior is the color of seaweed
A deep green as if tinted by the sea
With golden feet and brown edges
And an elegant rose painted on it.

When I open you with delicate hands
The Music of the Night begins to play
Narrating my parent's love for each other
Like Romeo and Juliet buried in time.

The tides have changed
And my parents are aging
But they're still together
Dancing to the Phantom's

Passionate tango.
Thoughts?
Mitzi Ambrad May 9
Phantom of the night
Hides in plain sight
Pretends to be alright
Goodnight
Wrote this spontaneously (in less than a minute) after seeing my silhouette on the wall for the first time since I made the terrace my ML spot at dawn
I'm beginning to think my wisdom is failing me
because that single voice was enough to set me free
Since I last felt this way, it's been months, it's been ages
She merely looked at and has written her name in my pages

I hope to see the day when the horizon is ours, if only for a while
I'd follow your phantom-like path for endless miles
But maybe one day, once again, if it comes to light, what should be
Whether in this world or the next, I'll feel her close to me
Dated: 4-14-2015
This was originally meant to be song lyrics, but I changed it up a bit.
Eloisa Apr 22
She’s into ravens and dragons,
charms, prayers and spells.
Enchantment and mystery,
spirits and fantasy.
Phantom and magic,
dreams and stardust.
She’s into fascinating connections,
rituals and meditations.
She gives thanks to the sun,
the stars and the moon.
She trusts patience and love.
She adores understanding souls,
She’s into all these
and a thousand things more.
hymn to Apollo
by Michael R. Burch

something of sunshine attracted my i
as it lazed on the afternoon sky,
golden, splashed on the easel of god;
what, i thought,
could this elfin stuff be,
to, phantomlike, flit
through tall trees
on fall days, such as these?

and the breeze
whispered a dirge
to the vanishing light;
enchoired with the evening, it sang;
its voice enchantedly rang
chanting “Night!” . . .

till all the bright light
retired,
expired.

This poem appeared in my high school literary journal, the Lantern, so it was written by age 18, but probably around age 16 or 17. That was my "cummings" period. Keywords/Tags: sun, god, sunshine, Apollo, elfin, phantom, ghostly, magical, enchanted, bright, light, brilliant, sky, golden



Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch

Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark...
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?

Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?

Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?

I believe I wrote this poem in my late teens, during my “Romantic Period.”



Tomb Lake
by Michael R. Burch

Go down to the valley
  where mockingbirds cry,
  alone, ever lonely . . .
  yes, go down to die.
And dream in your dying
  you never shall wake.
  Go down to the valley;
  go down to Tomb Lake.
Tomb Lake is a cauldron
  of souls such as yours —
  mad souls without meaning,
  frail souls without force.
Tomb Lake is a graveyard
  reserved for the dead.
  They lie in her shallows
  and sleep in her bed.

I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in 1976. In addition to having similar titles, they had similar "staircase" indention styles. According to my notes, I modified "Moon Lake" two years later in 1978, at which time the poem was substantially finished. I then modified "Tomb Lake" in 1981, but must have forgotten about it, because I don't show that I ever submitted the poem for publication or did anything with it for more than 40 years. Keywords/Tags: Moon, Lake, Lakes, Water, Reflection, Reflections, Image, Imagery, Mirror, Magic, Magician, Seer, Prophet, Shaman, Spell, Spells, Enchantment, Sorcery, Bewitchment, Bewilderment, Incantation, Rhapsody, Love Talk, Love Potion
Nigdaw Jul 2019
Come and love me
I am out here on the periphery
writing poems
to the earth and sea

a ghost of a voice
barely audible
except on the breeze
if you listen carefully
you will hear it whispering
as sun touches sea
as rain starts to fall
as seasons change
as you lose your way

I am here
out on the periphery
listen carefully
I will not let you fall

driven by some unseen hand
the pen travels across 80 gsm
sometimes I manage to write things
even I don't understand.
Lost in my Head Jul 2019
The curses in your name
Pale in comparison
To the love that surrounds you
From my every breath

The memories in my mind
Fade with the likeness
Of a ghost in the nighttime
A phantom of the mist
Wrote this a few weeks back, I like the imagery so here y’all go
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