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Isaac May 13
smother my mother in my love
kisses to her armor, she can’t feel it
she even resists, but I keep repeating the steps
approach, appreciate, allow
kiss her cheek and bow
I don’t know how much longer I have with her
but I cherish each moment, each pocket of sunshine I savor
my queen, the empress
The shining example of a goddess
I thank god for her, for my family
I am finally understanding
I’ll probably wear yellow at our wedding
Because as Anita sang so sweetly
You
       bring
                me
                      Joy
When I lose my way
your love Comes
shining
Lighting up the path
to brighter days
Yellow
I’ll decorate my ebony brown skin
In yellow for you
Because I believe
that joy will be our portion
Even when things become dreary
We will always see the sun
Emerging from the clouds
It’s brilliant yellow rays
Clearing the skies
And warming our skin
You. Bring. Me. Joy
And like a mirror
I will reflect
joy
Right back to you
I will hold your hand
And warm you with my smile
And rainy days
will always be worth while
When I’m by your side
I’ll probably wear yellow at our wedding
A queen cloaked in joy
Adorned in love
Only For you
A king
My king
Sometimes I just want to be in love. In my mind it is beautiful. I hope to fall in love with the right man one day. I hope he loves me back and I’ll find myself with him face to face, in front of our families expressing our love to each other. I’ll be the one in yellow. 🌻♥️
Just Grace Jan 6
Lay rest your flashing glaze of wishes
Down received for a moment
Breathy bow lifts to hold
and waver across few measures
Sienna and topaz
Sienna and topaz
Singe and simmer
Shine and glimmer against
All the thoughts born and dead

What makes you eager to rise
If it is not sensing gone away stories
or nursing the aches that lunge through anywhere else but here
While you replay and delay all creation
the blossoming goes unseen

She, the maiden is reigning
Une palais à remplir
Une palais à remplir
where she is her own queen
Her oceans made of no time channel open mouths
flooding its spill

She waded into The archer
Downed in his own vessel he mistook himself the pilot of

He, marooned in the surrender of damp and fertile places
where in Death he is still recovering
Soldiering and sullen
Soldiering and sullen
He is choking, and can not stop to see or savor the blossoms rising from his own till
MuseumofSoph Dec 2021
Independent
A bit headstrong,
Her kindness,
Transcendent

Her accent shapes her character.

She doubts her abilities
When she is among the strongest
The hurt of her people
Is all she sees

She’s learning to look in the mirror
Not to see the imperfections
But all the possibilities

She rarely forgets
Although she hides behind a silhouette

A fierce protector
Without discrimination

They can’t all defend themselves
So she steps in

She will give her life for her country
And for it
They love her.
I hope she sees the change she creates
A magnificent ruler.

Each step in her red spiked boots
Paving a new path
For those forgotten or lost
Walking with her,
Their roots

She takes their hand
And leads them on

No persecution

Only solutions.

A tireless advocate for those without.

No need to ask
She understands her task

…………………………….

Could you use some help?
No need to ask

Just open your eyes
And seek her out

She’ll find you
Eventually
She sees through it
The lies.

I hope one day this queen
Will find a proper king
For now she rules independently

Fighting
Endlessly.
A poem dedicated to a dear friend that inspires me daily.
Jay M Oct 2021
A dress of black
Covers the flesh
The weary legs
Propelling a ****** shell
A walking, talking hell

Boots of black
Cover sore soles
Worn from the miles
Within these shoes
Take them now
To then endow
What this soul
Has and how

Veil of black
Covers the face
The tired, dim eyes
Gateways to a fractured soul
Wailing, crying out like a wraith
Mourning the greatest of losses
A grand, widely gaping grief
For the sorrow and woeful
Most soul retching cry
Of a lovers loss

Keeping still the black veil
A crown upon the head
Heavy is the silver helm
Upon a fatigued skull
Full of fear and dread

A queen without her king
Fallen at her own hand
Her pen, her ink, her word
All bid the love goodbye
Their hearts to surely die

As their kingdom crumbles
Stones crash to the ground
Their castle falls into the sea
From whence it came to be
A castle built stone by stone
To fall but once again
As the very earth rumbles
Quaking in the divide
A ruin on either side

The queen, her part of the land
Once so thriving and grand
Only to fall by her own hand
From a land of bountiful prosperity
To but a wasteland of humanity

The queen, she walks among the ruins
Rubble scatters the once sacred ground
To crash heavily at her weary feet
Seeming to admit defeat

Into the old chambers,
The throne room they once shared
Split at the space between the seats
Now ever so lonely she stands
Upon the cliff so steep and grand
The great divide of ancient land

Seated upon her throne of stone
Cracked and deeply worn
Now it seem it were
Surrounded by spine and thorn
Protecting the exhausted queen
Despite all internal protest
She sits to take a rest

Her subjects come to her cries
From her long cold bed
She cries and cries but will not sleep
Remaining awake only to weep
Wrapped in her linen sheet
Longing for a distant warmth
Knowing it shall not return
T'was but a lesson for her to learn

Rise and rule the day
The queen, she knows that she must
She sits upon her throne on high
Her knights to guard her people
Her heralds to aspire the people
Their souls as they lay to rest

The queen she always overthinks
Thinks once, then twice, then thrice again
As any a queen should hope before
Making but a single request

The queen she rules over the dark
Her word is her solemn command
She considers her people with care
Before do anything she dare

The tired queen, she stands to greet
The soldiers of her fleet
To sail their hearts out to sea
No more, in this time they shall not flea
To tie up their ships to the docks
Not again to leave the harbor
Of their greatest labor

As the day goes by and by
She stands and she sighs
Her people they reflect her state
And quite frankly, as of late
They appear more ghostly than
The specters of her mind

As her sorrow grows and spreads
So, too, do the wraith-like folk
Of her long, forgotten land
Broken by her trembling hand
Both land and fragile heart

Seated somberly upon her throne
The queen, her pain is known
Far and wide, beyond the reaches
Of her sullen, gloom filled lands

As the word spreads
To lands far and vast
The tales of her past
They know her by one name
At last she holds her title, bound;
The Queen of the ******

- Jay M
October 12th, 2021
Just over 2 years of my life, and an unknown future, gone before my eyes...
I suppose I am the Queen of the ******.
Coleen Mzarriz Oct 2021
She has freckles like little eyes boring a hole into your soul when she looks at you. She has a face as clear as crystal that when you look at her, you can see your own reflection—mirrorless, empty, and reserved. When you press your lips against hers, a flood of poisonous schemes awaits you, and you'll be lost like Alice in Wonderland.

She's an important chess piece that cannot be easily moved; she's a queen, the ace, the king. A pawn may capture a queen, but she is also the king. Her throne reeks of gold and fortune, her mind flows with wisdom, and her body's attached like the goddess Aphrodite. She's the thunder in the rain. Her cries are a woe of revenge and power. Death can not capture a woman like her. She's Eve and she's Lilith. She's a spirit and she can be a snake—crawling with her reptile skin. Her eyes are as fierce shaped as the diamond's emerald and lastly, she's macabre surrealism that when you read her, her true self shows and pushes you to infinite possible dreams you can dream of. 

Avary is the bird of thunder. In her cage, she's a young soul duplicated to bring misfortune every time it rains in the spring of Casmorville.
Women, regain your power. :)
Casmor is actually a place. I just added the "ville" so it makes more sense. And oh, I wrote this while there was a big typhoon last July.
Jay M Oct 2021
Persephone,
Goddess of spring
Queen of the underworld
Bringer of death
And life anew
Bringer of light
Powerful and knowing

Darling maiden to ancient Queen
Truest display of duality
All that one can be
Magnificent in all she is
Of divine wonder
Mortals, how they marvel
At her strength and might
And her astounding grace
Upon the mortal world

Goddess of delicate care
Blessed is the fertility she bring
To a world when birds sing
Flowers to bloom, blossom
Into the beauty of spring
Bringer of plenty
Venerable one
Whom many hold high
The Great Goddess
Divine maiden

Hand in the land of the mortal
And the other far below
Decisions made, legends abound
Over sky, seas, and eager ground
Carrier of fertile seeds
To grow and for the world to know
Of her power and wonder
Thousands know her name
The Goddess Persephone

- Jay M
October 5th, 2021
Decided to write a poem about the ancient Greek Goddess, Persephone. She is the Greek goddess of spring, fertility, and the Queen of the underworld, wife of Hades.
Wanderingsoul Sep 2021
Eyes so deep, you could drown
Felt like seeing a queen with a crown
She looked like she was in a foreign land
Broke away from a life that was bland
Smiling like a fool but was aware too
A big responsibility, only taken by a few
She was ready to take the next step
Now all that was left was for her to prep
It's about me... I'm my own muse
Juno Sep 2021
She earned the title Nine Days Queen,
But hitherto, she was just Jane.
Just Jane, and she had no idea
That when she married the son of a duke,
A plot was forming around her to steal the crown.

A crown she did not yet wear,
But inherited when the King was gone.
She rose to power instead of Mary or Elizabeth
Through an amended line of succession;
She was never meant to be Queen.

The plots and plans and goals of others
Led to the end of Lady Jane Grey.
Mary conquered the throne with little effort
And Jane was one of many to be sent to death
By the woman history calls ****** Mary.

Nine days was the length of Jane’s reign,
Unscrupulous were her advisors.
Just Jane, she had no idea what she was:
A pawn in the games of those around her,
And she was never meant to win.
In English class I had to write a poem about Jane Grey, so here it is.
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