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Callie Zeph Feb 26
We talked again tonight,
Not talking - messaging,
It's like people forget how to talk to one another nowadays.
Rarely such a thing of picking up the phone and calling a friend or an interest
We type, type, type, giving varying degrees of attention
It makes it so easy to misinterpret how interested the other person is
Every little thing is expected to have ten times more meaning than intended
And people wonder why relationships in younger generations often don't work very well
Modern relationships are pieced together like the modern Prometheus, with mixed intentions in all the right places but with conflicting commitment tearing it apart
Strange how my mind wanders this way
Cynthia Jan 18
It's the same old story,
Isn't it?
Oh mighty eagle,
Go ahead,
Tear it.

That's what they do,
Every time,
Every day,
Whenever something new appears,
They keep it at bay.

Oh mighty eagle,
As the trumpets sound high,
You people march on,
Blind,
To the agony,
The distress,
The loss,
"Who cares?
They aren't worth a lot!
"

And hey,
Maybe I'm wrong,
And if I am,
I'll understand,
For, someone who has heart,
Should know that we all -
are equal,
And play a part.

So mighty eagle,
Trumpets that reels us in,
Tell me, if you are wrong,
Are you willing to listen?
I've written two poems named "Prometheus" now but the title fits, I guess. This one is about ... Let's just say Trumpets and eagles. Yeah. That should sum it up. (*hint* *hint* Its about a famous Disney character that is a duck and has a last name named after a musical instrument)
Cynthia Jan 18
Brittle and Bound,
The pain never dies,
Reiterate, reborn,
A sight for old eyes.

A cliff, an edge,
When will it all end?
Halving halves,
The pain never lends.
This is what happens when I spend too much time on Ted ed -- Really good stories out there.
Bragi Oct 2018
I was so in love
With what we had made
That any sense of sufferance
Of punishment
For my actions
Became an utterance, stayed.
Lost in my satisfaction that
I had given you something far lighter;
I was so in love,
Stolen, a divine fire,
Like Prometheus.
Simra Sadaf Oct 2018
drenched in the colours
of sunlight ombré
your soul burns
so incandescently
that it could have
saved Prometheus
from the wrath of Zeus.
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Smoke signals from a silent cigarette
float to the heavens and linger
in the mucky conscience of regret
resting on the temple, my forefinger

Thumb lifted to expose
a metaphorical gun
countenance in prose
staring at a midnight sun

When will that monster again ****
another that I love,
Why did I so feel
like I could best the powers from above

I created a ghastly Adam
and I dare not create an innocent Eve
my future I cannot fathom
all time left to grieve

I will chase this gruesome snake
no matter where it slithers
across ****'s frozen lake
this calamity summons me hither

My final and only ambition
is to cast a life to silence
his and my cognition
will clash and bite in violence

I created a monster
and a monster created me
Madness! How it so saunters
and wails as if a banshee

Look over on the frozen horizon
a horrid shadow stalks
I, a fire stealing Titan
will march out to solve this paradox
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
There's a devil on my shoulder
with blood dripping from his hand
the other side grows colder
an angel lost in the promised land

An angel’s face
I never did see
maybe that space
developed improperly

It’s quite tragic
these choices I take
it’s not black magic
it’s my own mistakes

I guess I’m in love with the spiral
spinning down to infernal ground
infamous words gone viral
I am Prometheus bound
habiba May 2018
Whence come ye, so wild and so fleet,
For sandals of lightning are on your feet,
And your wings are soft and swift as thought,
And your eyes are as love which is veiled not.

We come from the mind,
Of humankind,
Which was late, so dusk and obscene and blind.
Now, 'tis an ocean,
Of clear emotion
A heaven of serene and mighty emotion

From the dim recesses,
Of woven caresses,
Where lovers catch ye by your loose tresses,
From azure isles,
Where sweet wisdom smiles,
Delaying your ships with their siren smiles.

We waded and flew
And the islets were few
Where the bud-blighted flowers of happiness grew,

Our spoil is won
Our task is done,
We are free to dive, or soar, or run,
Beyond and around,
Or within the bound,
Which clips the world with darkness around

The joy, the triumph, the delight, the madness,
The boundless, overflowing, bursting gladness,
The vaporous exultation not to be confined,
Ha! Ha! the animation of delight.
Which wraps me like an atmosphere of light
And bears me as a cloud is borne by its own wind

As the dissolving warmth of dawn may fold,
A half-unfrozen dew-globe, green and gold
And crystalline, till it becomes a winged mist,
And wanders up the vault of the blue day,
Outlives the noon, and on the sun's last ray,
Hangs over the sea, a fleece of fire and amethyst
I Anonymous May 2018
To be in any form, what is that?
Mine is no callous shell,
I merely am a new identity.
Flames and ether
My flesh and blood

They with no consideration enjoy to worry me
They all come to assist me
I am carried up by traitors
And the greatest traitor,
I myself
Carried me there.
we did blackout poetry in my poetry class and this came out of a walt whitman excerpt
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