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JDM Mar 2020
Observe a masterpiece the lonely relic
foreshadowing judgement eclipsed despair
Hanging disappointed art held ransom
childish tantrum freely shared

Refrain restrain what some condemn
reluctance alleviates anxiety gained
A musical symphony poetic warfare
so let me gently remind you friend

Even at last gasping breath
I am fiercely lethal with my creative pen
© JDMaraccini 2020
You can hear them if you listen
When the wind blows in the night
The people who once lived here
Who are gone now, out of sight

The buildings, many shuttered
Housed ten thousand at it's peak
Now empty, vacant, skeltons
Once vibrant, now, so bleak

Silver once was mined nearby
Thousands flocked here for the chance
To strike it rich, be wealthy
Uninvited to the dance

For all that comes with promise
The devil comes as well
With money comes temptations
As the small town starts to swell

Business and homesteads
Spring up where once was none
Lawlessness is rampant
The law is by the gun

Saloons, hotels, and harlots
Soapbox preachers, grab your purse
We all cannot be winners
That is just the boom towns curse

Like a zephyr in the desert
A boom town changes in a flash
Prosperity will vanish
And so does all the cash

The boom town dies as quickly
As a flower in the snow
Scattered now back homeward
With nothing left to show

The earth takes all she's given
The buildings may still stand
But, the mines are all now empty
There's no value to this land

Listen to the voices
The wind let's them sing out
You can hear them in the darkness
That's when the locals all come out

A ghost town is a relic
It shows the best and worst of man
So, listen to the wind now
Hear their stories if you can
Shubham Kamble Apr 2018
Urn
who'll hold your memories
recite them like a fabled story
a land
where you held hands
leaving a long trail under infinite sky?

who'll hold your urn
enshrine it as a priceless relic
when you exile
far far away
where heaven is called a home ?
Brittney T Feb 2018
Finding stolen jackets in my room
catches me off-guard
"Oh! hello cozy reminder of
the boy that toyed with my heart.
I forgot I stuffed you
in this corner of my drawer..."



I don't want them, really.
But I can't bring myself to throw them away.
Or give them back.
I know I should keep them.
These were priceless at one point;
they feel like intruders in my life now.



But sometimes it snows.

Then I can see the warmth those reminders
once provided.
I pull on layers of memories
to have a snowball fight
with my sisters.
I reuse. I reframe.

Which is all we can do
With relics of our pain.

We apply what we've learned,
From pain, to our lives;
We wear these lessons
Like jackets.
We grow.
Pain is only a teacher
that can aid us now

if we let it.
Writing this helped me understand why I hang on to things that hurt.
Vexren4000 Mar 2017
There is a longing for the infatuation of teenage years,
Of being able to look around the world and feel free,
Of having friends come easier than enemies.
Of being young and having time.
Now that man has aged,
Into a lone member of the workforce,
No longer a moon-faced innocent child.
Now a haggard and ragged face,
Staring past the present into a future,
He has worked away his whole life to possibly have.
Yet, when he arrives there, He will be an ancient relic.
Of the child, he used to be.

©BAS
Slouched atop the bookshelf resting his fluffy head
against much loved Rudyard Kipling's finest.
He watched the day to day stories of King Anthony
'The child ruler of the world' and his beloved younger sister Anya.

Avoiding arguments downstairs in the dying segments of daylight,
the boy's reassurance to Anya showcased rare moments of humanity
not seen by Little Weissel's beaded eyes since occupied Holland.
Amongst his stuffing was still memories of his first best friend,
in which many a day was spent quietly hiding away,
listening to the sound of boots roaming around the house.

King Anthony reached his hand out in full view of the aged bear's face
and plucked him from his perch.
As warm as the bear felt to him, he felt to this plush relic, whose eyes
would dilate in the melt of such moment if only they could.
From his arms passing down to her trembling ones;
she was looking for solace in the wake of mother and father's quaking
voices in the kitchen.

For Little Weissel it seemed like 'what was old is new again'
and now after spells after neglect he was experiencing a second
lease of life.
As the war downstairs fizzled out into quiet evening, King Anthony and Anya were locked together, both tenants of sleep with
Little Weissel just as lovingly clung to as the first moment he'd been clutched.

Maybe in the new harsh terrain, the scabby mass of the little bear
could once again feel the need to be needed as any good plaything deserves to be.
Derelict, decrepit,
Just a waste of space
A relic from a different age
One who'd run the race

An eyesore
Gives the place a name
Represents a time long past
It's no longer in the game

A stiff wind would take it down
It's not worth a single dime
Take it down, demolish it
It's enemy is time

A single pane of glass is left
Cracked from side to side
In fact it's cracked the whole way through
As tall as it is wide

The others are all boarded
Keeping out nothing at all
The only thing the wood does
Is act as canvas to them all

Graffiti covers every space
That is left standing here
It used to be a factory once
That made a local well known beer

BUT ON THE OTHER SIDE....

Inside the building squatters sit
Derelicts, wastes of space
The building is their home for now
Away from the rat race

Eyesores, hidden in plain sight
Humanity at it's worst
That is the image given them
Because of addictions thirst

A stiff wind would take them down
So thin and frail are they
Protected by a building that
A storm could blow away

One side thinks it awful
The other, thinks it's good
An eyesore and a fragile shell
Of old bricks and glass and wood

But...for one plain window
Separating worlds apart
A crack runs through the window
It is the buildings heart.
Solaces Jul 2015
(I give to him a relic given to me by my fellow mage Osiris.. The relic of the star tear.. This is your prayer..  Become the angel of the stars..)

After cutting through the endless darkness and seeing it bleed light I spoke my final prayer to the God or being higher than any star in the sky.  I was on my knees as the demons and devils were closing in on my final shining glow.  I was the last of our race.  We were going into the darkness shining and glowing.  But my prayer had been answered by an angel of the stars.  This angel was a dragon that had wings of blue star light.  He painted our sky blue again with his light and erased the darkness above.  Our sun shined through once again burning away all that was wicked and evil.  He then looked into my eyes and spoke through them. I could hear him speak to me through his eyes.  " I give to you a relic given to me by my fellow mage Osiris.. The relic of the star tear.. This is your prayer..  Become the angel of the stars."  His wings then shined so very bright as he lifted off into the sky leaving behind a cut of light in the sky.   The relic he gave to me shined star blue and red.  I noticed my sun blade and moon blade were glowing the same colors as the relic.   I picked up my soul swords and sheathed both of them.  I could feel everything around me now.  Where I stood the grass begin to grow.  Flowers followed then trees and forest.  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and felt the wastelands of our planet needing to be cleansed.  There were then thousands of tornados of light that swept all of the lands followed by massive super hurricanes that covered the entire Planet.  I was cleansing our world by simply thinking about it.  I was at the center of it all.   Our world is now reborn.   And I must now give it away.  I will be part of the stars now.  I will dive into the cosmos as a light that will forever shine away all that is evil.
The angel of the stars rebuilds.
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