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lkm Jul 21
I loved you.
Yes, I did.

But I should’ve known better than to have believed the web of lies you sprouted at me. I should’ve known better than to believe your “I love you.”
Why did I take that bite from the apple, if only I had known it was poisoned. _

My mother warned me about strangers with blue eyes walking down the street. She said that was why she was protecting me.
I should've never let down my golden hair, if only I had known.

It didn’t have to wait until the clock struck 12:00 midnight for it to happen; bibbidi-bobbidi-boo, I’ll have hand it to you, you really had me fooled.
You were never Prince Charming, I needed to be my own Prince Charming.

I’m stuck in a timeless blank, neither moving forward nor back, a canvas that has not been painted yet and sadness is the only color I know.
I’m afraid I don’t have much patience to wait for a 100 years for true love’s first kiss._

A thousand times you tore my walls down, tore me apart and even when I’m at a chokehold, I thought it was still love.
Maybe I was a fool to have thought there was beauty in the beast.

I traded my heart for something temporary, I lost my voice just to let you step all over me, and some part of me hates that I’d still let you if we were to try all over again.
I’ve become the foam of bubbles lost in the sea because I couldn’t hurt you the way you hurt everyone.
kiran goswami Dec 2018
She said
" The story you told them was incomplete,
You did not tell them how did I feel. "
But darling,
Every story would remain incomplete in this light,
Because you're the victim of your story
And I am of mine.
Even the Evil Queen has something to say
But all we know is the story of Snow White.
Arianna Nov 2018
"Who is the fairest in all the land?"
          They inquire.

"Not I, not I!"
          Though many aspire.

Shall we?
Shall she?
Away to the woods?

Ah, to the woods!
To the woods we'll away,
To the woods, she...

          Like the moon that resided at her birth,
          Dappled between black hair and eyes;
          Small coral lips the sole color
          That dares blush upon her face.

"Who is the fairest in all the land?"
They inquire,
But this time:

          No answer.

Though many still aspire.

Sneakers changed for boots,
Nice skirts for petticoats patched and worn.

Now, to the woods!
To the woods...

And away!

We shall,
She shall...

          Backpack slung 'cross 'er shoulders,
          Pipe puffin',
          Knife gleamin' out 'er pocket,
          Trippin' over branches
          Through the wild
          Wild fern jungle
          Far west o' the kingdom
          By lightwaves in the looking glass ---

                       " HA! Well now, I'll pour ya a glass!"

To the woods!

To the west!

To the woods,

And away...

         Snow White
Her name, in those days,

Sullied now

With distilled disillusionment
And the warmth of foliage fair,
          The fairest
          In all the green land.

... Snow White?

More like "Off-White"!


White Snow?
White Wolf?
Snow White Wolf?

Or just a no-name,
Little No-Name-At-All?

No-Name, indeed,

                    Sharpshooter of prose,
                         Green as the trees
                    And red as the rose.

City girl gone vagabond,
A camp one day she stumbled on:
Seven bandits therein,
Drinking whiskey round the fire.

Seven bandits,
Brigands though they be,
Not devoid of courtesy,
And each in turn presents his name:


Seven bandits a-huntin'
Neither silver nor gold,
But greedy for days,
For the curious wealth of Time,
In its endless abundance
And simultaneous lack, seemingly endless.

One by one,
They pluck the days,
Bright and shining, golden
Out the velvet-lined pockets
Of the Abyss,

Stashing them away
Amongst the timelessness of the forest
And its foliage fair
          The fairest, fairest
          In all the green land.

Rich in hours
For thinking,
For supposing
Upon the Earth
In its way,
Prosperous in time to spare
For living
Stripped bare,
          (Survival minimum)

Thus the days passed mortal kingdoms by,
While for these merry eight,
The sun and moon merely switch places
In the sky,
Against the rhythm of the "hours".

And so they lived
In an ever-after
The borders of "forever-after",
Free from the times' a-changin'.

But along there came
At some last,
While the seven bandits were gone away,
A peddler woman,

          Strange and bent
          Beneath a distant burden of ages
          And dead weight
          Of days lost

And on 'er arm there swung
A wicker basket
Flowing over with pomegranates.

"You there, No-Name!"
She calls out to the girl,
An' our gypsy lass strides o'er.

"Look here, lass, at me basket:
The fruit I bring is ripe and red
As youth and summer,
Fresh as the pangs of first love.
I'll sell it ye fer but a pence,
If you would like to try a bite.
How d' ye answer, me hearty?"

No-Name hesitates,
But the ancient mortal
Places the fruit
In our rosy maid's hands.

With reluctance,
With foreboding,
At this stranger-of-the-world,
The raggle-taggle Sans Nom peels back
The crimson flesh,


But one


Seed and,

Holding it a moment between her fingers...

Swallows it...


                    To the earth.

Aye, down she goes, fair Anonymous:

Bitter nectar
Drips from her lips,
Stains her rosy fingertips
          Dark as blood.

There she lays,
Our vanquished heroine,
Upon the forest's ageless floor:

                         Sharpshooter of prose,
                                   Green as the forest,
                                   And red as the rose"

She was,
Once upon a time,

She was...

From realities of decay and paper preoccupations,
In pure being of the world

In the world

Of itself,

By probing antennae

                    ... Conscious and corrupt...
At once poisoned
And liberated
By strange ivies
Of realization,


          Some tainted
          With presumptions of enlightenment,
                    Others with false perceptions
                    Of possibilities for perfection, and
                              Still others, by fear alone.

Thus, with one bite
It bites,
The bleeding rot
Of ineluctable years
In a luscious guise
Of bittersweet temptation.

Now, though, the question
In the body of our heroine:

          "Does it bestow
           A monstrous kiss of death,
           In moving blood to flow,

Sun and moon circle round,
And around;
Under darkness
The bandits return
To find...


                         You know.

And for all the days in their possession,
They could not count
The moments in eternity
Of which their nameless friend
Could never now partake:

          Only one interminable
          Swinging back-and-forth
          Of the cosmic pendulum
          Between light and dark,
          Dark and light.

Loneliness and loss evade increments of quantification,
And for every answer, the questions resound infinitely.

No-Name, No-Name,
Sprawled upon the forest floor:


                                                      ­         White.

          Seven bandits travel
          To the south.

                                                To the south!

                                                To the south!

                                          Through the woods...

                                                   And away!

          And Time moves with them.

Still, there she lies,
Slowly melting,

          Beneath the snow
          Once her name,

Becoming one with the black earth
Now cold
Guarding the warmth
Of dormant life.

Under the caress of snow,
And between the shades,
A metamorphosis:
Her form has changed,
As all must.

          The snowflakes upon her skin
          Turn to a silky pelt of white,
          The shadows to dark spots,
          Her hands and feet to silent paws,
          The coral of their soles
          Now the only color to bloom upon her.
          Antlers now adorn her skull
          And a feathery tail sweeps out behind her body,
          Long, silver, leopard-speckled,
          With the blurry kisses of a thousand mortalities .

The eyes alone remain unchanged.

          Leaf brown, flecked with amber green,
          Earth in Autumn,
          Ringed with grey skies
          And the ghost of violets.

Changed thus:
And thus:

          Soul realized.

How this came to pass,
No one can know.

The shock of life
Into dead connection
                         ⸺ A necessary interjection! ⸺
Catalyzing the detection
Of a heartbeat yet attuned
To potentialities for affection,
For good, in-a-world
Existing minute by the minute.
Inspired by the fairytale (albeit loosely), sleep deprivation, a bottle of wine, personal experience to some extent, and two random country songs. My mind ran away with this one, hence the length... D: Ah well. And yes, she transforms into a reindeer-antlered snow leopard at the end.

"In Time" by Mark Collie:

Also, "Straw In The Wind" by The Steel Woods.
M Aug 2018
The Evil Stepmother sent her away,
from Queen of the castle to Queen of the hay.
A servant of beauty to Master's dismay,
all because she thought she had to repay.

The Stepmother wanted her out of the way,
and the trust in the Huntsman he sure did betray.
Alone in the woods to the calls of blue jays,
she soon found a house and stood in the doorway.

The Dwarves soon arrived and did shock they convey,
but welcomed Snow White as she'd made a buffet.
Together a friendship as she had runaway,
until one day that wicked Witch led her astray.

Many times she came throwing the animals in a disarray,
then one day Snow was alone because the Dwarves were delay.
The Queen was excited until the next day,
when she tumbled down and died, but there was no time for hurray.

A prince came along to a bright sun's rays,
and soon enough the Prince was Snow's new fiance.
The dwarves were awarded and were asked to stay,
they did and made statues for the palace out of clay.

Yet the Queen's corpse under the stones it does lay,
the fungi growing around and the skin brown with decay.
Her legacy is black and the children do say,
"The Black Witch is dead, her Mirror in the lake; hurray!"
Just the story of Snow White written in poem form.
arra May 2018
She was the fairest of them all.
After she ran away from the ******, queen's brother
She found the seven dwarfs, took care of her
But they want her eyes, so their neck, she sliced
Stabbed the old woman who gave her apple
Now in her hands are rope
Place it on the prince's neck and *****
Tounge tying his lips on her dummy's course
She found it so gross!
She's Snow White, not pure at all
But still, she is the fairest of them all.
Merry Feb 2018
Face as pale as snow, hair like ebony, and lips red;
Red as the blood pricked from the dainty finger which bled
From the waters of a treacherous womb, the fairest one of all was born
To compassionate father, the King, and wicked *****, the Queen; forlorn
By the news from mystic mirrors vile with dark knowledge, the fairest one of all
She would be the one to rule them all beneath a gentle rule; herald of the Queen’s fall.

Though the insidious murmurs of her Mirror, upset the Queen, she did not remain
“Forlorn” for long. No, she used the time to gather magics, beneath the sane
Façade and the façade of tears when it became known the King had died
Her daughter, grown to ten and four years, to be moved off of her head
Then the Queen, the Queen alone, would have beauty and power.
To her throne room, did the Queen invite a Huntsman upon the hour
In which was meant to mourn the good man’s loss
The soul of the King immortalised in bronze wherein sickly moss
Did grow, a dour shawl that did crawl around his eyes
Much like his mistress who for fourteen years did feed him arsenic and lies.

“Take her heart so I may feast upon it; proof of her death,” did instruct the Queen
Unto her henchman, the Huntsman, she did instruct and he left. The sheen
Of determination emanated from him, illuminating his understanding that would turn.
Into the forest, he did chase the Princess until he cornered her; looming over her,
Her beauty sing sweet sorrow upon whimpering lips and a charismatic curse
Was laid upon the huntsman’s eyes
And from that, he could take no lives
So, he felled a boar and fed the heart to the Queen.
But the flesh upon her tongue, it did not taste it ought to mean.

The Princess fled further into the forest and happened upon a melancholic hut
That housed seven dwarves, wary folk at first but
Upon hearing the Princess’ begging, they let her stay and for them,
She cleaned their abode and once cleaned, the Huntsman’s deception came clean also
And so, the Queen grew vengeful and spurned a deep spell to **** her daughter, so
She travelled into the forest and disguised herself with the clothes of hags
A poor, poor hag in need of money – money for an apple red as blood
The Princess, fooled and compassionate, took from a hand with rancid skin that sags.

A single, crisp bite was all it took for the Princess with lips of blood and face of snow
To perish, from her hand the poisoned apple withered and in a glass box the dwarves laid
Her to rest, her final rest, and from her porcelain hand the apple tumbled,
And with that echoic fall, the Queen rose once more: beauty, fame, power: she has it all.

And for the existence of such a miraculous corpse to prove true, rumour became myth
And myth inspired Prince to go out and search for the truth clouded in mist
Within a deep, damp forest run foul with monstrous foliage, the Prince found her
He found her with the one of ivory face and scarlet lips; hair in inky curls
From her glass casket, he removed the lid and his decency; assailed by
The perfume of ever youthful flowers, he leaned down next to her and with a gentle lie
He told himself she was asleep. That’s all she was: a peaceful, deathly sleep;
And upon those perk, scarlet lips, he gave her a kiss that was deep.

Tongue within her cold, rotting mouth.
He kissed her and he kissed her thorough, hoping his warm breath would breathe life
Into this long-dead corpse; perfect as though blood remained in motion in her vein
But from her glass coffin, the Princess did not stir so the Prince’s ghastly act was in vain
With the back of his hand, he smeared her memory and the myth remained myth.

The poor Princess was laid to her rest, her final rest, in a glass coffin; a perfect corpse
A corpse that did not wither;
A corpse with blood red lips, hair of ebony, and skin snow white.
Inspired by the work of Edgar Allen Poe
Angela Rose Oct 2017
Follow the rabbit he will take you to happiness
Do not be late, do not miss that date
You could get lost in a sea of confusion
You would be deceived by the ostensible outlook

You could go fetch seven little men
You could be the fairest of them all
Beware of the deep and everlasting sleep
You would be deceived by the apple's red color

Worry about the petals, they are falling so quickly
He will be stuck that forever if you cannot make him love you
Keep an eye on the rose, it is far too beautiful to let go
You will be deceived by the appearance of a beast

Stuck in a tower, do not ever look down
Grow out your hair past the tall brick walls
Spot a good man, make him rescue your heart
You would be deceived by the family relations

Cleaning the bathroom, making the bed
Sneak out to town, be invited to a dance
"Fairy Godmother, please just give me once chance"
You would be deceived by the loss of one shoe

So waiting, I am waiting for an answer to come
Looking for one man to be the one that I want
A fairy-tale ending is nothing I am after
For I would be deceived by the misinterpretations of the story
This little poem is something I wrote back in high-school, but is one of the pieces I am most proud of and most impressed with myself over.
she stay awake but the giant want her to sleep
the sun has already rising and get high in the earth
an arrow through to her chest
get the red suit in her heart
maybe she's death because she's not moving at all
the anger of the giant obsess in the cage
the animals runaway and hide
he said "so here i go again, losing her again"

seven dwarfs who walk around the cage heard
and one by one coming close to the cage
they shock and cry because they knew the girl
the giant said "im sorry, i cant protect her"
the dwarfs understand and said to the giant
they little bit screaming "its okay, she's runaway from our home because she feel no one looking at her.
so she coming to you who can look after her"

that case make the dwarfs and the giant get along
thanks to you snow white and rest in peace
your kindness would always remembered
J Valle Nov 2015
Eve shared it and
Condemned human kind.

Newton felt it and
Changed the world's mind.

Snow White tasted it and
Proved love at first sight.

Turing used it and
Left the world behind.

That is how
I realized
It was me, who
Gave you the power
To change
Or ruin
My life.
Sommer Wickham Apr 2015
After my so-called Prince Charming kissed me to life
My story ended, and no one thought twice
My life was what every girl envied
But nobody saw us behind closed doors
I was the princess and he was the prince, doesn't that sound nice?
Too bad there's no such thing as a happy ending, unless you pay the price.
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