Heightened beauty
Heightened noise

Heightened violence
Heightened poise

By: Gretchen (Whiterose)
R Nov 6

Let's review some history
on sins long thought buried.

Caesar ruled absolute, upon his golden throne
They tell tales of him now,
His rise and fall,
How they hated him, and how they would bow

But what throne did Caesar sit,
that gave him all his power?
No book nor tome no page nor sage
could describe it from his hour.

The truth is...

His throne was propped by the people
who claimed to have loved him.
The base a set of knives,
Each knife a claim to their devotion
to someone they never loved.

A knife by one who thought he was a genius,
Another by those who came for him for advice,
One by those who thought the world of him,
And another because they thought he was nice.

Some by those who were simply his fans,
And others who just tolerated,
Some who stood in silence as
Others came to talk to him.

One who came to him for ideas,
and another whose heart he buried in
with another he gambled nights away with
as one more he looked out for.

One by one the knives seep in as the throne collapses,
And still somehow, he could yet stand.

But despite the pain, the treachery and woe,
t'was Brutus's blow that hurt the most, in ways he could not know.

No divinity, no loyalty, no love.

Elise Jackson Oct 25

it's odd that i find my way back to you in a dream

in a violet mist,
a storm of chemicals

sometimes it's repetitive
all i see are teeth,
dripping wet from black saliva and blood of
anyone that roams these leaves

but i know you can't touch me
because hurting me
hurts your assets

you'll hurt your chances at anything living
because deep down, somehow, i knew you were never alive

just an empty body in the middle of a clearing
like royalty
preserved while something else like you reigns

Fiery colors above our heads,

Long figures dancing around,

Flowing and draped in reds

With ornaments and crowns.

Nature's Kings and Queens.

Autumn in all it's splendor.

Some spectacular scenes,

Burning fast like ember.

It's my first poem published here, hope some liked it.
Seema Sep 16

The darker the night
The stronger my sight
A sense of agony and delight
As the packs gather to fight
The king of another tribe
Rebels of felony, decide to bribe
I belong to my own kind
No tribe, no rebels, I am the king of my mind
A warrior once, never defeated
In any challenge or fight unbeated
The love of my life, my soul, my pride
Betrayed me and my clan to become the rebels bride
Known to many by my name, Baygoon
Often insight amongst the shadows of the moon
A fighter, a warrior, a man of loyalty
No king, no tribe, I bow to no royalty
Deep in the darkest forest, where the ancient ruins fall
I live among the trees, to help those who call
The ruins peak, looks like a primitive pyramid of a kind
A legend holds behind its closed eyes, for me to find
A promise to myself I've made to fulfill,
Till my last breath, my blood shall spill
When the death lord, happens to take me away
I'd welcome it like a warrior and descend from this body, that day...


From my imaginative world to yours.
Bianca Reyes Sep 14

You covered your lies
I covered my scars
We washed​ up on the shore
Of the land where fools
And cowards go
I know it's not home
But we're royalty here
I dig my feet in the sand
Everything hurts less now

Copyright under Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved
Blah blah blah

I had a customer at work today
with a tattoo across her chest
that said "Royalty" with a little
jeweled crown hanging off the "R."
She wanted a pack of cigarettes.
She didn't ask, she demanded.
She didn't say "please."
I gave her the cigarettes.
She didn't say "thanks."
I asked how her day was going,
and she said "good."
She didn't ask how my day was.
At first I thought a girl like that
isn't royal at all.
But, the more I thought, the more
I realized that she was.
Because royalty doesn't ask,
it demands.
Royalty is above saying "thanks."
Royalty doesn't mingle with
gas station clerks.
Regardless, I muttered "bitch"
under my breath as she walked away.

It was meant for her
she felt it but yet
to her she couldn't get it

It was in her linage
but yet she thought
she couldn't get there
cus' she was a commoner
and of a forbidden race,a Jew

It was true her family was
wiped out by the Amalekites
leaving her and her cousin orphaned
still destiny had great plans for them

It was true that in the whole
of Persia she was among the most
beautiful maiden but yet her cousin
now her father prevented her from
leaving the house and coming in contact with the king

As she grew into a lady
she became more beautiful and
this actually made her the most
beautiful lady in the whole of Persia

As she was being promised
by her late mother her cousin
now her father gave her the Tresured Medallion
the Star of David when she
became a full blown woman

Since out of love and care
she ran not in disguise of a boy
but her self to the palace to save Jesse
her friend who they captured to make
a palace official but unfortunately for her
she was immediately siezed to be among the Queens to be
something she always wished for but
because of wht they did to her
the palace was her most feared place

At the palace in the harem
she found favour in the eyes of the royal enouch Hegai
and everyone in the palace
making her the most loved person in the palace
Hegai kept the secret of her being a Jew

As time went on she waited
for the night with the king
that single night that would change
everything for her and her family
and truely that night came and
she found favour in the king's eyes
and through this she became the
Queen of Great Persia

We all would be wondering
who this lucky girl is and what her name is
well this is just a little story of  Jewish girl
who was greatly favoured by God
whose name was changed from Hadassah
to Star of Pussa to Queen Esther

This is the longest poem i've ever written and i don't know if it is nice or not
Andrew Kerklaan Mar 2013

Delicate tang spritzes the air with a sunshine kiss

Peeling so gently it's lady-like tenderness is an elegant tea party with white gloved fingers and daisies on the mantle

Her majesty will be pleased!

A romantic encounter of citrus delight and sun-bathed security in ever loving om and happiness

A candidate as sweet could never be asked for such a casual Sunday outing and for you my dear we are but a shared slice of raspberry accented pie

So powerful but yet so softly subdued...

Like piano ballads or string quartets it is here simply for our glorious consumption

An ode to you my Sunday sweet orange!

May my taste buds always dazzle upon your  arrival

This poem is the embodiment of how I feel while eating an orange on a sunny Sunday afternoon
Demmi Joe Jul 23

This is the story of how I never told you I loved you.
When we first met, I could only stare at you.
In my eyes, you were a tall, graceful queen
And I felt unworthy of your presence
But when you spoke, your words,
Sweet like honey, trickled out.
Your small voice made you seem less of a nobility
And more of a normal girl
But you still seized all of my attention.
I couldn’t articulate how much I love you.
I couldn’t put my feelings into sentences
Or phrases
Or words.
I couldn’t seem to find the right combination of letters
To encapsulate how important you are to me.
I told too many jokes
But I never told you how I felt.
You always listened and laughed at them
But you never felt
How I intended to make you feel.
I wanted to exude love
But, instead, I emanated comedy.
I wanted to rule beside you
But I was just your jester;
Hiding behind my wit
Because that way, at least,
I could see your smile.

a sapphic tragedy
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