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Skye J Cardoz Jul 2016
You’re a two feet dragon. You’ve cute. Tiny with your essence.
You’re a mini fire breather. You obliterate my pains to dust.
You’re a fire breathing dragon. I catch my breath in your presence.
You’re joy in your protection. Your love is iron strong, never rust.
For Divya G.
Astraea Jul 2016
It is within the pages of a book
Hidden inside that I find a friend
One who comes whenever I look
Human relations they do transcend
The caress of their papers seductive
Yellowed edges containing wizened perspective
Plots of treachery and trickery give me the tingles
Heart-felt confessions whispered to my fingers
Secrets as enigmatic as they could be
No other soul would grasp it the same way as me

Inky letters dancing in the dark of cotton sheets
Illuminated by the moon's glow of a flashlight
The dot of an i bouncing in front of me
The tail of a g curling and beckoning to me
I follow the twisty path of z
Tread down the straight road of an l
They lead me into their clandestine story
Of tales and fables far away
Or maybe not so far after all...
There is silence in our eyes

I see you in the darkness

Of your fading light

Make me believe

That fairies tell tales

Of magic and love

That conquers the world

Yet when time fades

And the earth breaks

Beneath our feet

Remember

I once told a fairy

to tell a tale

Of your heart

Even if

It is not paired

With mine.
I remember my old Grampa
And the way he used to look
He had so many stories
He was much better than a book

I remember on our visits
While the folks would head outside
Gramps would get us grandkids
And take us for a story ride

He'd hitch up the hay wagon
We'd get up and off we'd go
Then gramps would start to talking
And so began the show

He'd tell us all the stories
Of our folks when they were young
Some he had to censor,
And sometimes bite his tongue

Now, Grandpa told the stories
Whether we were in or out
And we'd all sit and listen
To what they were all about

When we'd gather by the fire
He'd pull up his rocking chair
He'd have his pipe and all us grandkids
And his dog, Whiskey, always there

We'd all sit in front of Grandpa
We'd want to take in every word
And he would speak up louder
To make sure that we heard

He'd tell us tales of Cowboys
Of bank robbers and the trail
Of how the west became the west
And how his horse once lost his tail

The folks would gather round too
When it was almost time to go
But, Grandpa, being Grandpa
Wasn't set to end the show

See, he'd told the tales forever
To our folks and all their friends
You could tell that some were truthful
And in some the truth....well....bends

The older ones among us
Knew deep down that most were fake
But, to see old Grandpa work the room
Man, that man just took the cake

We'd get together monthly
All us kids stayed close to home
We weren't like lots of others
Who had that built in urge to roam

The stories, we'd learn later
Were mostly from TV
He'd be talking of those cowboys
And of how things used to be

A few years back we lost him
His dog had up and died
Gramps old heart was broken
He couldn't take it, though he tried

My brother tells the stories,
Not as good as Gramps at rhyme
But, the kids all hunker round him
I'm sure that he'll be good in time

We still go on the hayrides
Tell ghost stories now instead
To all us grown up grandkids
We still hear grandpa in our head

Each month we get together
There's near a hundred now in all
The kids go with my brother
And he tells tales ten feet tall

The stories are consistent
Of old cowboys and the west
I can close my eyes and listen
And still like Grandpa's versions best
Hao Nguyen Apr 2016
To: Thomas

Message: hey did u reed that bok
bout Chauser cuz i didnt
get it.  Its jus 2 hard 2
read n i dont kno y
we r doin this.
I meen we r good @ talkin
in our english so y r we
reedin all of this ol ****?

Who needs it or even cares?

Canterbury Tales?  Mor lik
#icantspellbarytails!
LOL.  its like 2 long but
txt me bk cuz I dont get it
n ned help 4 the test.
TTYL, busy day sooo gotta g

~<3 Becky

Sent at 2:00pm April 2, 2011
This poem was created in an experimental form: texting.
StrangeR Rufah Apr 2016
Listen, O moon!
I have tales to sing.
I tell you again.
Come on, to spring.
I know you do
Tame the sea
I know you hold
The tidings in thee

You know she is
An angel to me
My heart’s with her
Can’t you just see?

The stories of her gaze
East horizon with her plays
The tales of her delicacies
That are beyond my fanatic craze.

Listen! O moon.
I have tales to sing.
Some are about her grace
And some about her face
Some about her lies
And some, about her cries
Some about her pace
And some, the way she lays.
Some about her eyes
And then one day, she dies.

My whispers are moans.
Just hark! O moon.
If you hear me cry,
In the darkness of night.
Never lend me your face.
Her face’s naturally bright.

I can bear it alone.
Until, you turn unkind.
After you are gone,
The stars shall find.

You were my only one
When a kid I was
I am glad I was
And you’re glad for my loss.
You were there all along
But, you never did pause

Come, let’s go.
O moon! Let’s show.
Some say we met,
Way back in time.
I belong to the stars,
That are moons sublime.

Come. O moon!
Lets walk hand in hand.
To the stars and far,
From this selfish land.

I know you’ll stay
When everyone will slay.
I know you are mine
Only one to whine.
Just listen! O please.
Lend me an ear of ease.
O moon! O moon.
Please listen me please.

StrangeR_**Rufah
3purplepebbles Mar 2016
If I told you that in the closet lived a whale
Would you say that was a lie or tale?

If you believed it
And afterwards
you feel naive then
It's a lie
because it was decieving

But if we both know it's not true
And I am amused
and so are you
Then we could call it a tale
And together fantasize
about the closet whale
Concept from the book"freak the mighty" by: Rodman Philbrick
(15,16) "I'm telling tales, my dear, not lies. Lies are mean things, and tales are meant to entertain."
Emm Mar 2016
tell me tales of love
not of lust
not of passionate embraces
but of foolish deeds
tell me tales of love
which warms the soul
of selfless endavours
engraved with honesty
tell me tales of love
entwined souls
masked with grandiose
inebriated minds
a time-old tale
only time will tell
only time will witness
do, ... tell me tales of love
Blonde, she is fair
Her thoughts flow like air
But no one loves a girl with brown hair
Copper, she rocks
Cannon balling off docks
But no one loves a girl with brown locks
Ginger, she looks best
In fiery red dresses
But no one loves a girl with brown tresses
Ebony, she has fangs
The most mysterious of dames
But no one loves a girl with brown bangs
All tales been shared
Of beauties been spared
But no one loves a girl with brown hair
Myra Feb 2016
Another bullet walks through flesh
A stream of claret trickles through
Requiem of the dead is again played
As another soul ascends to light

Day by day a body hollowed
Only lifeless remains lay on the ground
Waiting to be judged on Earth
Or remain forgotten evermore

A heart of steel can feel nothing
Yet the coldest of bullet will never ****
If no grudge blazed in this inferno
No steel will ever touch a skin

Among these burned ashes
Burned bodies, burned souls
Will one find peace inside?
Will one find a reason to live?
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