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Tiana 6d
Oh Desert Prince!

Your existance is like the wandering golden sand of your fascinating desert;

Light enought to flow through every chambers of my heart,

Gorgeous enough to be the life of the caravan's artistic mirage;

Your love embrace me with sheer darkness and chills of starry nights,

But warm enough to magnify me to stay within your sight;

You are the desert Prince,
You flow like poetry,
Amaze like magic
Priceless unlike jewelries,
And your love seems like a beautiful tragic,
Awakening my deepest desires that I didn't know even exist;

Loving you is like enjoying a never ending magic carpet ride,

That keeps me on edge whenever passed by a strong tide;

Oh desert prince!
You keep me mesmerized how Scheherazade did to Shahryar with every story she brew,

Not Arabian nights though but there's always an unfulfilled thrill in every word you sew;

Oh wondrous prince!

Now when you have played the most melodious echo with my heartstrings
that'd shy away the Qanun,

I'll never let go of you,

Though I don't know if I'll ever have your heart as a miraculous boon;
Randoms
Beckie Davies Oct 16
i designed this crown
so i could wear it proud
i walk these streets like royalty
baby,
don't you know i'm queen ?
bow down to your royal highness
Strying Oct 5
Staring down at my hands,
Quivering at my own sight.
My
      c
         r
           o
             w
               n
fell,
Though it was never really there.
I feel like being royalty isn't always as amazing as it may seem.
Jasmine Reid Sep 25
I remember my place,
the one you promised me

You were going to shower me with jewels and royalty. While I danced for you in that throne room.

My kingdom has gone dark, somehow you left me,

yet we are still the king and queen of a miraculous tragedy.
Slave of briers courts
regal, purple, velvet robe
Picture perfect rose
The Black Prince is a beautiful rose
Simon Aug 23
There was once a King and Queen of both abnormalities who struck fear in each other's eyes! This was certainly a pleasurable experience and outcome for them both. Simply because they both didn't know what one or the other's personal mere "abnormality" was even about. Nor, what it even was... Because whatever one or the other had (prematurely on both each other's awareness's from never knowing of the actual "truer" whereabouts) on simply acknowledging the other's efforts were in fact...futile! This very futile fact is what made knowing of the other constantly "infatuated" with one another! (And what secretly lead into the marriage as both "a king and queen of both abnormalities"!) Because one day for the very first time (in like)...FOREVER.... They both came to actually appreciate one another's abnormalities as a mere blessing...then an actual curse. Which was what they both (respectfully between one another) once thought since the very beginning. Completely oblivious to essentially not knowing that there was a very hidden "blessing in disguise" in the form of a pure miracle! Just waiting to be "blossomed" for ALL too see fit!
Glory and power isn't both obstructed by the mere curse of one another's interactions within each other's personal bubble! It's how one's inner feelings come out for both to essentially appreciate, altogether. Then for it too constantly "bash" on one another, because both finding out they were meant to be together...since the very beginning! Essentially is what blinded them BOTH...at first light!
Carlo C Gomez Aug 22
Marie Antionette
preferred pie over cake,
and briefs over thongs.

A fervour for fashion,
But not a fan of
The Flour War,
nor her ghastly wrongs.

Poufs and panache?
Imprimatur, for sure.
"That's entertainment,"
said the brochure.

Affair of
the diamond necklace,
such a coup.

A material girl,
how about you?

Now remember,
how comely the rose
when she was so rich and red.

But also the onus
to how she lost
her pretty little head.
Meghan Aug 11
It was almost a birthmark, a death sentence embossed on the deepest crevice on her heart. Grace had always known that the noble blood fleshed her existence. In return of power and glory, she must wear the brightest crown which will light the horizons to a warm shade of amber. That someday she would rise together with the sun and cradle the stars with this invigorating honor.

The princess fancied the notion of becoming next queen for its promised delight as other royals often tell her. Every time she shut death to birthday candles, it was all that she wished from the watching gods above. To be the perfect heir, the ideal ruler, and especially, the greatest candidate for the crown.

From the gardens waved the precocious white bloom of calla lilies. The clouds were a dash of milk frozen from the never ending stretch of blue. Faint chirps of birds echoed around the towers. On the palace ground, Grace acquired skills of a squire, for it was written through time she would defend this very castle in her hands. Days were occupied with lessons and lunches, meetings with lords and charities. She was a lady of compassion, inherited the old queen’s discipline and sophistication. The townspeople loved her greatly. They cherished her like a living ornament caught in a sea of the unlikely. A depiction of a good woman whose soul was constructed to comply with the rules and duties she is given. Accustomed from the expectations, the princess endures hardships, turning predicaments into something magnificent. The entire kingdom was pleased. And only then, the exploring winds tell otherwise.

Nobody knew Grace wanted to dance. There was this rhythm of renaissance enough to make her pointe shoes swoon across the dungeon room, her shadow--the audience. Instead of being entertained by minstrels, she would prefer the empty theater which she calls home whenever the sun sinks a sudden thought of change. Or that one time she secretly headed for the woods, not far from the stream, and put on a show for the skeletal trees to applaud to. A perfect piece of broken melody. That is what she all was. Her desires transformed into a banquet she must not feast on.

Because she is everything the crown is not.

A young amateur star, an artist of fascination, and a dreamer of the unknown. Perhaps, these were enough reasons why she became a magnet for chaos and everlasting detriments. It murdered her during the day-- kissed her a goodnight. The almond eyes that sync with her cinnamon tea, swirling in brown, blinked briny tears. From withstanding the pain, sustaining the hold, even though the harsh fate made its call. The only concept which drove her far is everyone’s acceptance.

But who could she be really? A figment on the stage? If at each glide the eyes foresee her as a rebel, much to her chagrin, who would look at her then? If the depth of the ocean has been buried within her voice, to everyone’s astonishment, who would listen to her anyways? What if she does not fulfill the responsibility which the kingdom predetermined for her, approved of her? Who would love Grace?

She built an empire so high, she cannot climb down her own stairs.

The message of the wind sounded like a terrible lullaby. It was too venomous for her dilemma. Because until this moment, this scenery, this pronounced living, she never stop hoping that one day, she will no longer be a stranger to herself. When the archbishop lifted the crown from the velvet cushion, the stones shimmered its vow as the brightest. The Queen’s authority shined through all of them. Before she sheds a tear, it already settled on her head, delicate and ethereal, faultless. Grace realized she spent most of her life fitting the crown which does not belong to her in any form.

No! She is not going to mourn another morning, nor sleep the night with a heavy heart. Fear might threatened to slit her throat, but she was not having it! The princess unveiled her mask and hurled the kingdom’s crown beyond the assembly.

“What a disgrace!” They thundered.

The formation of her identity is what stunned the people. None of them expected such disaster to occur, due to this, her royal majesty has sent all white horses in search of the beloved child. Nowhere to be found, her linen dresses flickered in fire while the crowd stared in horror. And she was nothing, but a forgotten soul.

Trees were once again clothed in green after the icy blaze of winter. The princess raced through the minty grasses and drank the enchanting smell of lilac, almost like a doe playing in the wild. She felt light as a feather, dancing in joyful exuberance. Other girls joined her below the white sunshine as they twirled and sang. It was the perfect moment to reveal the blind side buried for so many times. The blood that once dripped in the glass of her ill-reflection began to fill the rims of imperfection. Luminescence was so brilliant she had to squint to see.

The brightest crown anyone can wear is to be their true selves. No matter who you were born to, or where you live, despite the obstacles, and consequences. It does not make you less of a person, for you already are complete.

She was not a disgrace. It is still Grace after all.

THIS GRACE…
i have written this poem  because i never became who my family wanted me to be. and sure enough, the expectations are stabbing me, a lot.
kei Aug 1
I love you, so I let you walk away.
I love you, so you can't really stay.
I love you, so you can never be mine.
I love you, but that's not for me to decide
isn't it?

once upon a time, it was just you and me
there was nothing else to be.
the perfect pair, the perfect partner
there was no space to barter.

maybe that's how the years have changed us
the pain, the suffering, it fuels us.
once upon a time, I'd be happy with just you
now its the terror that runs through you too.

back to the present, on opposite sides
cries of the battlefield never reside
only a painting of blood remains, maybe
once upon a time was a dream all this time.

I loved you, so I let you walk away.
I loved you, so you couldn't really stay.
I loved you, so you could never be mine.
I loved you, but that's not for me to decide
is it?
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