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Joe March Sep 17
Can I compare thee to a flame of fire
when time has stolen the words from my lips.
Cliche upon cliche grows to inspire,
the death of a rose at the thought of your kiss.
The crash of a wave as you enter a room,
Time stops as I await your gaze.
Drench me in your water, succumbed to Neptune
What purity remains, I allow to raze.
Choked by the smoke, leaves me breathless,
I gasp for air, desiring nothing but relief.
Thoughts intoxicating my mind - shan't confess,
for the love of an innocence crying for peace.
Try as I might, Eros' three sharp knocks.
It is the key to the furnace that you hold to unlock.
Elizabeth Apr 28
Came at five the fates for tea
I set five cups, five plates, five chairs
I asked why and they didn't answer
I asked why and they just laughed
They leave at six, they will come tomorrow
I wash four cups, four plates, oh dear
They will come tomorrow but no for tea
They will say goodbye to me
This one is not finished, i probably will rewrite it at some point but i didn't want to forget the idea, so here, tell me what you think and what you would change, have a good day!
Sasha Raven Mar 25
I am going through the darkest valley,
feels like a prisoner on a Roman galley ...
The Sun does not shine here anymore,
it did not rise, true, even, d*mn, before!!!
They said, I will find her by the Shadow — near,
my heart and soul are filled with fear ...
But I will search, no matter what it takes,
am I just a human being with mistakes?
We will, one day, never see the dawn,
I remember when she fed her fawn ...
No, she is ''dead'', I must get out of this place,
I must admit, that I will never see her face!!!
annh Mar 9
Flavia swore as the heavy earthenware pitcher slipped from her hands and crashed onto the uneven flagstones. As she knelt in the puddle of tepid water and started gathering in the pieces, she heard the rapidly approaching footfall of an armed legionary.

‘Leave that now, there’s no time. We ride for York immediately.’
‘But mea domina...’
‘The Wall is breached. Hurry, puella, or she'll start without you!’

Flavia picked up her sodden skirts and ran.

                                                           ­  §

I held my breath as the last piece of the Corbridge ewer slid smoothly into place and wondered at the exquisitely crafted motif which encircled the body of this ancient vessel. A procession? A cavalcade? Curious, if not for the men-at-arms, I would have thought it a pageant. And there in a covered wagon a noble woman looking back at a young girl standing on the steps of a villa holding her hem in her hands.
A piece of slightly supernatural ‘drabble’ for a Sunday morning! :)
Matthew Orellana Aug 2018
We are the soldiers
Of iron and led
We are the men
That steal all your bread
We take and we steal
What cares and what feels
We never stop thinking
What’s fake and what’s real
With steel jaws and bronze feet
We bite and we tred
On this barren land.
We rake and devour
Every thing that matters
We put up our flag
We sing and we wept
For a place and a home
Where no one will know
The hate that we’ve grown
We are Death’s assistants
Her breed and Her tool
To wipe the earth clean
Of the things we called cruel
We’ve lost all our names
We’re a thing and a number
For a government and state
That knows not our plunder
We fight and we die
For a hoax and a lie
That appears in the stories
And myths of child
This thing that we seek
It’s not Roman or Greek
It’s a thing that most search for
It’s called calmness and peace.
Euphie Dec 2018
Let's **** Caesar and call it a day.
Brutus is laughing and Mark Antony is crying.

Calpurnia cries and Portia rejoices.
The people sing and some weep.

Wow, what a great day it is to be a Roman.
one of the most sarcastic poems I ever wrote. Still makes me laugh.
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