The witch lay a curse on me,
with the last ragged shriek of breath.
Then, the flames took on an
altogether different smell,
and though she writhed against the fraying ropes,
there was no hope.
And as the goddess fried,
we held hands and sang
of a better time, in a better place.
I felt the moon shivering,
wracked with fear for when
the sun would shine.
When Venus would rise from the ashes,
a phoenix, and love would live again.
If women are from Venus
And if men are from Mars
We both need to make a move
To meet each other in the middle
Men and women are from distinct planets—men from Mars and women from Venus
- John Gray
In the dark of night,
Just before the light of dawn
In the heavens she stands,
my restraint, may seem like an impregnable enemy line
but when your love blooms and wind sniffs the wound of your heart,
let the fragrance sneak in and cut me like an elvish sword.
dedicated to Birth of Venus.
I’ll fade to you,
In the Sierra Nevada blue
Your emerald eyes,
I will never recognize
Chasing the dawn,
Drawn the swan
Of our flourishing love,
Venus envies our dove
I want to drown in your heart,
I sincerely hope you’re smart
Interlock and chain,
Your pain in my geometric domain
I’ll solve it like my upcoming exam,
Acing it before you say “Aries and Uncle Sam”
Virgos love the best ;)
My poems are going mediocre again...sorry about the lack of inspiration.
P.S. Will look into this after med. school in 20 years...
*I took college geometry as an eighth grader; it was a breeze, honestly.
**My first (and probably last) horrible attempt to write a love poem to nobody in particular.
***I consider love to be honorable; no one deserves to have their heart broken by someone selfish.
The last note is especially dedicated to @sadnspicy0 and @Owen.
in a field of babies breath
i see my anael, my angel
her emerald glare bestows upon me
the end of my despair
beauty and love are mine
and i am hers
and through her fire
in magic chains to bind throw mad desire
in this waste land
i can feel her grace and
oh anael, oh my angel
just thinking back
my twenties and cracking
smile for every tree I hollowed
to make room for a new universe.
in my thirties, I laugh at windows
on top of Mercury's head as
Venus covers her mouth and hides again.
I walk in beauty
As if Venus has bestowed her wings on my back.
Her frolicked hair in oil paint
perhaps I am her redemption?
To seek both answer and truth
In an age without stone cut statues?
But I do not resemble the sliced abdomen of statues
and I am not gilded in beauty
nor do I tell the perfect truth.
I tend to look back,
illustrated in paint
My fingers tremble in paint
frozen at the canvas like a statue.
There is no point in a redemption
when I cannot see beauty.
So I learn that I will not be back
until I have learnt the truth.
And when I have learnt this truth,
so stark as oil paint,
I must make the decision to come back.
Of course I will change, for I am not a statue,
but I will be shrouded in my own beauty
for Venus will get her redemption.
is not by
religion and beliefs,
or a racial sects, it's
wished and said,
It's not, for a
a particular person
or group of persons,
it's, for those who
Intended to destablize
the Venus and Mars's
was designed by
the minorities, those
who want to
Kowa ya tsargu dashi nake