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Juliana Apr 4
It was a Thursday when the doctor
gave news of the small child’s birth.

She was the first girl,
the entire light
in her mother’s new world.

Daughter of the mayor,
her name would
turn up in the local paper.
Letters would be written as
townspeople learned of the labor.

It was early in the summer,
birds pecked the dirt,
looking for worms.

The nurse was late for work,
as she was a helper
at the local church.

Times would eventually turn,
but for now, little Pearl
was like a dam waiting to burst.

The curl of her lips
showed her mood was firm.
She was a wave
that would soon be heard.

Quickly, she began to stir,
her eyes starting to blur.
Her mother worried,
feared the worst,
but all Pearl wanted
was someone to
nourish her thirst.

Years later, Pearl would sit,
searching a diner
while summer went quick.

Who was a tourist,
who did she know?

She was dressed
in a purple shirt,
and glamour radiated
down to her toes.

It was the third time
the waiter returned,
this time with Pearl’s dinner,
and the courage to earn
her number while the sun
slowly burned.

She drew circles in her journal,
finding peace among the curves,
and encouraged the boy
in thirteen little words.

The next week, she offered
him her hand,
and below the evening sun,
a new journey they began.
There is no way out there is no second chance
There is no innocent child ready to dance
There is a fight there is a death
There is a girl ready for her final breath
There is a tear running down a face
There is a walk at an unsteady pace
There is a sadness that causes uncontrollable madness
There is a day that they call the end
There is a foe once a friend
There is a story That ends in indescribable glory
There is a chapter they say is the start
There is a boy who gave his heart
There is a stranger killed for the cause
There is a queen showing her flaws
There is a knight fleeing in cowardice
There is a king finally powerless
There is a princess who saved herself
There is a bottle fallen from a shelf
There is a choice remembered for a lifetime
There is a friend at the end of there line
There is a pauper climbing the ladder
There is a servant turning madder
There is a dragon wanting a life
There is a baker without a wife
There is a witch who did not burn
There is an executioner who was given there turn
There is a hero for once defeated
There is a villain who never cheated
There is a sidekick learning at last
There is a spell that was unexpectedly cast
There is a loss never to be forgotten
There is a final meal left to rotten
There is a nemesis left misunderstood
There is a toddler robbed of its childhood
There is a parent hated for mistakes
There is a family that’s hole still aches
There is a feud based on a gamble
There is a scratch caused by a bramble
There is a legend based on their existence
There is a village that showed there persistence
There is a country fighting for what’s right  
There is a day that didn’t end in night
There is a lesson that should be remembered
There is a love that cannot be measured
Madison Oct 2018
This isn't a storybook,
Don't stay when I say to leave,
Don't wipe the the tears you caused from my face.
I don't need to be saved.
Don't expect a fairy tale ending,
If I say its over, it's over.
When it's done, it's done.
This isn't going to be a happy ending.
reality bites
Pyrrha Sep 2018
I crave my own fairy tale
I want someone who feels like poetry
To rid the hopelessness from my romantic heart
And share with me a happily ever after

I don't need a prince or white knight
A pauper or squire is all that I desire
I don't require a gallant quest or noble steed
Eyes that are just for me is all that I need

I'll write my own tale to fill your storybook
Every page a poem of waiting
Till one day they are no longer of longing
And are filled with ode's to my one true love
That boyish heart rescinds,
Others call it growth,
What of worth has he,
If not the love he's known?

Now here stands the man,
Or that is what's supposed,
Whatever happened to,
His storybook betrothed?

The way we touch no longer lingers,
With butterfly tipped and desperate fingers.
We kiss here on the dotted line,
Rent will pay in full on time.
This is not what he has read of love.
So simple to refuse,
The art of growing up.
Would be nice to be 15 again kissing a love for the first time but alas, life only goes forward. (I usually ****** it up anyways. /shrug)
You were the it,
the only thing.
The inspiration I hadn't yet met.
The hypothetical metaphor,
in story book prose.
A wordless poem between our mouths,
A painting of breathtaking and gentle sounds.
The ethereal only you and I can feel,
And a storybook for everyone around.
Leah Apr 2018
Every moment with her was a page in a book
So surreal and whimsical
The world revolved around her
And the weather changed at her command
She was a celestial being
With all the power in her hands
To shape my story

Her words painted pictures
Her voice sounded like a song
Her face was perfectly sculpted
Like a true work of art

Every day with her was another chapter
Every moment a new page
But it was just a short story
And all stories end

You get so immersed in its beauty you forget the world exists
But it stopped too soon
You wanted a novel
You want to read more
But that wasn't  the author's intention
Jesse Jas Oct 2017
In these words I cried,
A thousand -
millions tears,
That I am sincerely,
Honestly -
and always will.

In these inks,
Stories are told,
The secrets,
I choose to tell -
perhaps not.

Pages - wasted,
Memories - fades,
Surreal realities,
Everything moves -
In a pace
I can't adapt.

The cover,
Can't hide me anymore,
Thick or thin,
I am fully exposed,
Feelings, tears and heartaches..
K Balachandran Jun 2017
In the wondrous story book of night
                 I eagerly absorb and fall in to contemplation,
You were the one omnipresent,
                  across light years and flickering flames near.

As orbs of light in many intensities and hues,
                 the rays of infinite grace that envelop me,
what feel like the caresses of lotus petals
                 was your love,my eternal beloved.

Soft,frothing moon beams has been
               my true consolation at times of deep pain,
the swishing comet, my constant wonder
               takes me to you in my imagination.

I was an enquirer,eagerly searching
               for the meaning of my existence.
transforming from one to another
               formed by dust gifted by unknown stars.

Enshrined you are in the diamond
                 temple of my still mind,
making you my lover eternal,
                 I honored my yen for the sublime.

The story book of night tells,
                about spirited mornings,noon and dusk
your benign presence was in each step,
                 of the motions of galaxies.

I see your quick moving eye brows
                  in the tumult of the black rain clouds.
your intense eyes flash love in lightening
                when I feel starved of your love

In waves one after the other, your hands
               embrace me,I am reassured once more,
mountain wind from afar bring
                your songs, a  lonely nightingale sing.

I am a living monument, that breathes
           your love from elements to live on,
like millionaire,that's ready to sacrifice
             everything for the ecstasy of your presence.

There isn't any other lover who cares,
             like you who brings such grace to a beloved.
you've the very same eyes of my mother
             that wouldn't miss me wherever I am.

like her whenever I fall your hands
               seek me pulling up my mind
you are a presence constant
                  I haven't missed you ever anywhere.

In days I move within a dream
             having created it,you know where I am,
as I turn the pages of the story book of night,
             whenever I want to feel closer, you are there.

You've been the mirror reflecting my candor,
              you are more than anything I've ever yearned,
the river that carries me, that I am one with,
             a flow we are to the ocean of consciousness.
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