Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
LC Sep 21
her hands lost their balance.
an unnoticeable tremor
pumped through her fingers.
as she waited for him to arrive,
she wondered if the time apart
made him a foreign place.

when he finally arrived,
and important tales were shared,
and his smile lit up her heart,
her hands found their balance.
he felt like a home again,
even after all these years.
Fairy tales are lies, lies
What happened to my prince?

He's imaginary
'Cause it's a fantasy

Where are you now my prince?
I believed you would come

Take me to your castle
So we can run away

I want to be with you
Don't leave me here my dear

The ending is near, near
Why did you deceive me?
Astraea Sep 17
You hexed me into a trance,
filling every available crevice
in my body
of what I thought was
ambrosia

Instead, I swallowed the silk from
your white lies

How dangerously sweet they were

You plucked each thread which
held my songbird heart together,
playing me twice for a fool (shame on me)
As Atlas attempted to seize the heavens
he learned to bare the weight of the world.
Such is the cruel fate
of love to scorn turned.

And what of all the legends of old,
of hero's tales from bronze to gold.
Why instead of stone statues
are cement hearts held
in every man's chest
while we lay old stories to rest?

The songs of sirens
swapped for plastic promises,
Heads of hydras
exchanged for two faced friends
as our magic morphs to cheap tricks,
all that managed to remain
Is an Achilles heel for sincerity

So when two souls like worlds collide
and create a place of bliss,
too often one bares the weight
of both worlds, with the burden
of unrelenting loss.
Naya Sep 7
Scrunchies around ponytails are the highest point at this coffee shop

The girls at the corner table wrap their cold little hands around a mug of hot cocoa on this first cold evening of the year

Pride posters takeover the sitting room as they admire the study of physics and the eccentric daily looks of their classmates

They speak so wisely,
With each girl bringing her own charming yet cussing tongue

They take breaks from studying to go on to talk about feminism and the need to feel ******* beautiful in jeans that might be a little too small for them

The walls are lucidly turning a boyish pink as their resilient words riddle the coffee shop’s still atmosphere

These girls are the rebels of the quiet night,
Scented of incense and mango vapour, maybe with a hint of roll on rose perfume,
They are completely unbothered.

Unfazed to the sight of anything that can remotely ruin this good time

These girls are not one to be influenced by the filth of social media ads and rude stares as they walk amongst this uniformed society

They root for one another and cheer each other on as they play jokes and make little fools of themselves, all eyes are on them and they don’t even care.

Winged eyeliner and cherry chapstick,
The youth I know is alive and well...
for I am gratefully sitting next to them at this once quiet coffee shop
this is what makes us girls
solfang Jul 15
I like how you're
the sunlight that
lands on my face
during warm winter days

I like how you're
the meaning to
the sun in sunflower,
and the breath
in a baby's breath

I like how you're
the laugh box
in my body,
and the batteries
are still running

I like how you're
the happy ending
to fairy tales,
with prince and princesses
but no villains

I like how you're
just the way you are
so I can write this poem
in remembrance of you
I like how you're reading this.
Warming up my brain for something more maybe.
Dimitri Ali Jul 1
We are self destructive creatures of habit,
Like Alice in wonder land, a chase to catch the white rabbit.
Like robots we march day to day on a linear path we refuse to scatter,
And as the small minded do, we all condem the mad hatter.

We all read the story,
You know, that one with the magic red slippers and Dorothy.
Take head to the lessons because we all live, no! We all the survive the best way we can,
Without hearts and love just like the tin man.
Like idiots we are we take abuse, our silence means compliance, means we yearn for more,
Some of us are like the scarecrow, our heads filled with straw.

But who am I to condem?
I lived for love like that which exists in the beauty and the beast,
Dreaming one day a girl would love me for me, a dreams that never seems to cease.
Some girls take Cinderella a bit too much to heart,
Longing for the handson Prince to sweep them away, she was basically a slave you know, or did you forget that part.

These fairy tales made us,
They shaped us,
Their forgotten lessons now serve to condem us.
Everything in the life has a purpose,
Realizing what that is is solely up to us.
OpenWorldView Jun 12
she graced our lives
sowing joyful memories
we never forget

now she's an angel
soothing our saddened hearts
with little fond tales
Next page