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Chie Jul 25
they're spotless, no room for human flaws here.
with faultless sense of selves and fragile attributes
are silver stars, whose homes are cold glittered spotlights
pressured, battered and bruised. look away dear, they're "fine"

they're fine, scared and composed until the next plot twist
rarely, ever so rarely - a perfect one slips
a miscalculation on a regular day
phenomena, wasn't supposed to be that way

perfectionism drove them faultlessly insane
when the known consistent road, shatters to eggshells
"ever so rarely", they reason to the mirrors
with guilt mixing in the blood of walking in fear

inner madness unleashing, black swans reappearing
the wrongs, how cruel that it doesn't let them go on
"this is only once in a blue moon", they echo
deep breathes, clutching close, the past's panic they can't let go
[ the breaking point of a black swan ]
Time passes by like a whistle in the wind. Ignored and only observed within the thickness of one's skin. The once gnawing temptation in Lula's eyes were now exchanged in kaput like a dead black swan in the lake.

It grew on her and she can only justify it by moving her legs back in forth and forward with her ballet shoes; she can only obtain her physical through the applause of everyone around her. Yet, there were trickles of blood forming inside her internal wound — as the piano strikes another note in A minor, she can only whisk in pain and undone drafts in her head. "Tis will be over", she raises her head upon the crowds heaping in excitement, she turned around and flew her wings upright and the heads of the audience once more clapped in vain and delirium nonsensical pleasure.

As Chopin's symphony were almost in the last note, she stood straight and made her way to the middle. There, she locked eyes with her forbidden lover and a small smile throughout. The intensity of another Vivaldi's winter classic can be grasp once more and another set up of white swans gathered together — formed a circle and she went in the middle. Her eyes turned black and her wings bleed another tint of jet black and crimson. The crowds awed in reverence and she soared above them. A starlet in the headless crowds and dreary sweet rustle of voices gave her another bliss.

And while she was served aloft, there were another macabre symphony that plays through the soft rough piano; it was a solemn prayer and they were the kind souls going up to the heavens.

"Go on, Salem. Play the winter magic," Salem could only look at his muse and he strike another note, passing notes two steps from their 'haven'.

Lula slowly ripped her wings for the last time and smiled to all the headless men. Her satin dress reveals her plumpy chest and an hourglass body. Lula is a goddess black swan. Men could only forward their eyes and threw her pennies once more and she could only move in her balletic conventional pose. For the last time, she flew with her black tinted wings and they were all beheaded.

The white swans began to sing in a solemn outcry until it became too remorseful. The white swans turned their heads down when they met Lula's dead eyes. Her laugh echoing the whole stadium with its own persona and it is like crawling down into waltz where it reaches their earshot. They can only sing in albeit and expensive heads started to explode.

"Two steps from hell," she sings.
You can listen to, 'Salem's Secret' by Peter Gundry. This is where my inspiration came from.
Morgan Vail Apr 18
Swanboat, swan
Please
Be with me again when you get here
You and your long brown hair
Swan, white wings
Head bowed
Clasp my hands in yours and
Honor your vows
Swan
I want to swim alongside you
Even if the lake is dying
And the fish all float
And you are drowning
My imperfect
Dying
Swanboat
Come around again to me
Each spring I crave your touch
Like the desert and the rain's lust
It hits the sand and seeps into the ground
And you forget my name
Swan
You keep me up at night
I miss your brown eyes and your laugh
I want to see you again
Holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers
And doing anything to show I'm sorry for making you live
Swanboat
I always write about love
and think I'm into it
And think of its twist and turn,
It wasn't that easy to love and
To be loved.
Each day we're swooning by
The comfort of the Sun,
I could not remember the last time
The light had left me;
No one would ever take a glance
on their dark times.

I know, I am complete--  living on a guarantee that
The stars will hold on into the night,
Each night where you will hear the
Swan's lullaby
And in morning, you will embrace
The thoughts of last night's catastrophe.
Part I
The night, no moon in the sky
The wind, full force as to fly
The cold, as to numb the blood
The trees, shadows the vision flood
The night, dark blue in the water
The wind, of rose is the howled attar
The cold, close to freezing the lake
The trees, static dormant to a shake
The night, solitary is the dark
The wind, momentary is its mark
The cold, nearly settled is the doubt
The trees, silent is their spout

The night, the wind, the cold, the trees

A Swan glides with an asynchronous thread
Feathers in the umbra, the heart partly dead
He has lost his dearest, his alluring arch
Spring isn't coming, no September or March
Once there was another swan
To make the lake shimmer with dawn
Their courtship was the core of the pond
A rare gem of opal coloured their bond
Unlike gems, though, be crushed love can
And it was time's deed right there and then
She now is in a new safe haven
And left was him with an egg of a raven

In the midst of this midnight dreary
The Swan was forlorn and weary
But the clouds of metal became of cotton
The grey marsh sudden, was brief forgotten
A shred of light, two lions glowed
Their manes of fire their passion showed
"What a scene" the Swan had thought
"That's the fervor my heart had sought
Forever bound by a curse of ice
I am void and there's no price
To unlock me from the eternal dream
And let me find my lion gleam"

Still, the sky is yet so white
And the past gloom cannot him fright
At his right the Swan stare
Intrigued by the unceasing flare
A piglet and a spider, what a scene
Why are they ringed by a sheen?
In the night, they play like friends
Fight, discuss and make amends
A web of favours and support
Parades of gratitude are never short
"Oh, is it fondness what I am lacking?
Is this why I am ever cracking?"

Now the display is certainly over
And the Swan hopes to find his clover
No more than ever he is so keen
To live anew and be serene
The night enjoys the happy mood
And let the moon stop its brood
The clouds, at once, no more than mist
An ethereal cast, will this be a tryst?
The moon glitz on a past reflection
A female black swan of mystic complexion
An owl hoots afar and is dismissed
As the hero sings after being kissed:

"Where have you been, my dove?
Why did you leave, my love?
I was so lost in here
Without your voice to hear

Without you to kiss me
Without you to bliss me
I was just a shadow
Missing the rain and the rainbow

But now I can see life
And each thing is so rife
I will give you my heart
So we won't fall apart"

Part II
Night, the moon is sublime
Wind, tame like no other time
Cold, feeble against heart's motion
Trees, mere pawns in this ocean
Yet silence cannot much contain
The disturbing growls of owl disdain
It thrives with strength, to fill the lake
To **** the love and pleasure take
The Swan, still, has just eyes... no ears
So to halt death from ousting his tears
Joy runs his body with iron vigor
His love denies dearth of such rigor

The courtship swims with celestial sync
In an opal ballet of black and white ink
Lastly, his arch the Swan can complete
With a dubious promise of endless heat:
"Our past is antiquity and shall be erased
The future, fertile, a wish to be chased
Let us embrace and with nature be one
Me and you, the rest will be none.
Though, I will only expect your happy devotion
No fear, no sadness, no other emotion
You are my minion, and mine in exclusive
Is this what you craved in your hope elusive?"

The Swan is soon hesitant of the deal
His novel grasp masks her appeal:
"Your words of ice burn down my feathers
Your crooked intentions prevent us together
I was foolish in you to trust my belief
Your offer won't stop my desert, my grief
Love can't ever be monochromatic
Yes, there are moments one's ecstatic
But endless joy is not the way
It will prevent freedom and will me betray
The value of love is shallow without anguish of partition
The bones of love are brittle without a conflict's remission"

The eyes of the black swan fumes in red
The clouds, the moonlight they shred
A tempest thunders over the misty lake
Out of the haze, the bird is now a snake:
"Your faith is missplaced in a callow profile
Your passt came closse to you beguile
You think your luck in love issn't departed
But you are full of sself-pity, fainthearted
Honesst love iss the piercer of my power
And IF you find it, I will to you cower
Yet you have nothing; you're dessperate for ssomeone
Had welcomed the deal, you wouldn't be undone"

The water spreads cold with every heartbeat
The quick rime sings Swan's defeat
The snake reveals its fangs of ink dark
And bites the Swan, a sanguine red mark
All seems lost to this tragic hero
A heart's betrayal in the absolute zero
Until a hoot echoes through the trees
And the bird finally the owl sees
With claws of steel, the snake it slashes
In response, lightning flashes
It breaks the ice and the reptile sears
The Swan is now saved, but not from his fears

A boy wakes up in a nice little room
With a painting of the lake and a flower in bloom
A bee buzzes around about the place  
And in the White Rose, lends with grace
Both make a sound akin to a chatter
They seem happy with their talking matter
The angered boy, annoyed by the insect,
Into the painting, the bee he projects
With a new aspect thrown away
He burns down reality's display
And when a dove finds its way out
The man its wings brake and his out route
This poem tells the story of a forlorn Swan that finally finds his true love but ends up discovering she is an illusion of his own desperate desires. It is divided into two parts as this is a large poem that features two different sets of struggles: finding happiness for yourself while everybody around you seems to have already found their answers, and learning that falling in love with anybody solely because of loneliness and desperation is not healthy in the long run. The poem transforms the speaker into a Swan and ends with an ambiguous point where it is unknown if the Boy is real or if the Swan is actually the real version of the Boy. Or maybe it is left ambiguous if the emotional events of the anthology have left the speaker confused about what is real and what is a dream (is the dream the reality he wants to exist in?), and now he needs the face this new reality he is in instead of dreaming about mystical animals, storms, and flowers.
rig Dec 2020
the lines are parallel;
infinitely so, by
definition. there’s no
invisible meeting
point in sight. nor inside.
we’re all fools by default.
Jamie Oct 2020
You beautiful,
Beautiful
Woman you --
I'm in awe of you,
You lovely woman
Maria Mitea Sep 2020
Waves
swing your wings
in the rhymes
of a longing song.

Water’s mirror
splashes you with
silvery kisses
when your wings
become a vessel 
in the wind.
Jenish Aug 2020
My ardent faith in you leading me to your divine pond where I will flap my tiny hands and swim with you to the other shore.

streak of pleasure rose
as the swimming lesson grows -
swan and little boy
Lyn-Purcell Jul 2020
Waters loves swan's dance
Fish fly as nature commands
Hear summer's sweet laugh
Based on a lucid dream while im sick in bed, haha
Once I recover Ill be back more free verses hopefully!
Much love,
Lyn
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