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Descovia Jul 28
The light in me is alive!
Nothing will stop me.
Earthquake-erupting-eardrum shattering explosions
Brightening and exciting
Transforming the hues of the skies.
Rage with heat
silent as fire
No element can conquer or counter me
                                    
                                                                                                        
My hatred is unmatched
   
My love is stronger compared
to any living external force

Spirit or in flesh.
Prepare for the worse and arm
yourself with your best!
My frustration in combination with faith of heart
beautifully spreads chaotic balance.
Summoned by the user who exceeds the power of fire users.
Terrifyingly destructive if misused, peacefully and devastatingly
enhances life in all I love.
I can be at peace, with all I have to face.
It will provide blessings to my joys.
Magic is a source to not play with as a toy.

Andy Chunn Feb 18
There was a girl from Tibet
With plans for the man she met
She loved him she said
And took him to bed
And now she drives his Corvette
annh Nov 2020

”Stood I where you, now starry and new,
Brylcreemed and cherished, view those who have perished;

The collegiate adorned, on Founder’s Day mourned,
Old souls with young dreams, bright plans and mad schemes;

Three from the left, that’s me with the clef,
A musician’s award, bestowed by the Board;

Prized above all, before the Great War,
Took hearing and sight, an aesthete’s blight;

For a whisper apart, is the end from the start,
What remains of the day, nowt but shadows that play;

On this side of the glass, through which you will pass,
At the lone piper’s call, when dusk it doth fall.”

“A cabinet of clowns dressed up in their gowns.”
Inspired by the gallery scene from Dead Poets Society - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vi0Lbjs5ECI



‘O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won.’
- Walt Whitman
Mark Parker Sep 2020
My pen slithers in poetic taboo
For as it writhes, you’d think it frail
Sliding along the garden’s morning dew
Polished diamond-shine upon each scale

Writing the lines as though I rhyme in schemes
Reptilian only within my dreams
I have always had a slight fear of snakes, but I usually try to overcome the fear if I’m given the chance to pet one.
Dante Rocío Sep 2020
Watching the schemes
of the World
and realising nothing
happens without
a cause yet
it seems so,
there it is
to see it
is not us
who choose events,
but they choose us,
since there are so many
mishaps on our
part.
As we know there is no coincidence in
the ways all Here flows to and fro,
one side of event must have premeditation.
Once we see how we are “accidents”
and can’t pinpoint it exactly,
there is no other way than to say
The other side takes course of it.
daycrow Sep 2020
We’re going there-
where lips and eyes meet,
between waterfalls and fireflies;
I spin around in circles.

It’s home to you-
might not seem to be,
but the scent of wet grass and sawdust
almost moves you to tears.

You’ll learn it soon-
though you don’t want to,
life is a cycle, and you’ve stopped still.
Move on, but keep it slow.
the people are talking
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
To a Mouse
by Robert Burns
translation/modernization/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Sleek, tiny, timorous, cowering beast,
Why’s such panic in your breast?
Why dash away, so quick, so rash,
In a frenzied flash
When I would be loath to run after you
With a murderous plowstaff!

I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
And justifies that bad opinion
Which makes you startle,
When I’m your poor, earth-bound companion
And fellow mortal!

I have no doubt you sometimes thieve;
What of it, friend? You too must live!
A random corn-ear in a shock's
A small behest; it-
‘ll give me a blessing to know such a loss;
I’ll never miss it!

Your tiny house lies in a ruin,
Its fragile walls wind-rent and strewn!
Now nothing’s left to construct you a new one
Of mosses green
Since bleak December’s winds, ensuing,
Blow fast and keen!

You saw your fields laid bare and waste
With weary winter closing fast,
And cozy here, beneath the blast,
You thought to dwell,
Till crash! The cruel iron ploughshare passed
Straight through your cell!

That flimsy heap of leaves and stubble
Had cost you many a weary nibble!
Now you’re turned out, for all your trouble,
Less house and hold,
To endure the winter’s icy dribble
And hoarfrosts cold!

But mouse-friend, you are not alone
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes of Mice and Men
Go oft awry,
And leave us only grief and pain,
For promised joy!

Still, friend, you’re blessed compared with me!
Only present dangers make you flee:
But, ouch!, behind me I can see
Grim prospects drear!
While forward-looking seers, we
Humans guess and fear!

Published by the English department of St. John’s College High School. Excerpted in an essay by Galkina Karolina, Institute of Humanities, Borys Grinchenko Kyiv University, Ukraine, and published on the university’s website. Keywords/Tags: Robert Burns, mouse, translation, modernization, update, interpretation, schemes, mice, men, agley, awry, nature, field, plow, den, home, modern English



Hugh MacDiarmid wrote "The Watergaw" in a Scots dialect. I have translated the poem into modern English to make it easier to read and understand. A watergaw is a fragmentary rainbow.

The Watergaw
by Hugh MacDiarmid
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

One wet forenight in the sheep-shearing season
I saw the uncanniest thing—
a watergaw with its wavering light
shining beyond the wild downpour of rain ...
and I thought of the last wild look that you gave
when you knew you were destined for the grave.

There was no light in the skylark's nest
that night—no—nor any in mine;
but now often I've thought of that foolish light
and of these more foolish hearts of men ...
and I think that maybe at last I ken
what your look meant then.

Keywords/Tags: Scotland, Scot, Scottish, Scots dialect, night, nightfall, rain, grave, death, death of a friend, light, lights, watergaw, heart, heartache, broken heart, heart song
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
He has a card up his sleeve
A chip on his shoulder
And a monkey on his back
Other than that
Life is a bed of roses
MicMag Jul 2018
is it important to rhyme?
do the cool kids care?
will they give me the time
if the 4th line ends in a different sound than line B?


the nature of poetry's changed
we've given up the rules
we allow a greater range
of thoughts and rhythms and forms and types and schemes and what not


you can even follow tradition
writing old-school poems
but make it special edition
by ******* with people's minds and changing one little structural thing mwahaha


will this trend stick?
can i name this new style?
or should i just pick
whatever words come to mind to wrap up this so-called-poem
and make people wonder what the hell they just read?
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