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Yanamari Sep 2020
Before waltzing together
To the melody of the
Blue moon
I danced alone.
Independent and yet feeling.

And then a gap developed
And grew
Large enough for
The space of two
And so I filled it with
The shine of
The Blue moon.

The Blue moon is my
Melody, love and solace
Whilst my body halts
To disallow the hole to
Grow larger.
To feel is to rip the hole
Wider.
And so feel,
I cannot.
The waltz was always
Mellow,
Almost melancholic;
And so it so easily
Unstrung - snapped.

Frozen over

The dance paused for
A few months.
Then the music began to play
So did the light
And I
Saw him
In the distance
Flitting in and out,
But remained
A dance partner.

While I swayed along with
The fluctuating notes
Others danced close by
And once I realised they'd left
And would not again
Dance close by
I shrunk back
Once again
Dancing alone

Frozen - crack.

And then he stepped back and
She came.
The water still dripping
Along her arms
We waltzed.
All too familiar
And yet she
Still withdrew
My hands unmoving,
Floating in the air
Where she would be.

And whilst neither left
Our synergy left me
And so my waltz -
In the rays that filter through
The cracks in the roof -
Is steady even when
The light flickers.

The gentle caress of your fingers
I won't forget
For your essence is still there
Even if only in
The Blue Moon
To be honest I've forgotten/not 100% sure what the blue moon refers to but I like this poem so im making it public

Pers Ref(?): 2011ίe-mIDTh1ef

Mar 1 2020

Edit: funny post note that I remembered is that in high school I had a dream I was talking to my sister in a warped version of my house under a crack in the roof of my house. There was one moon and four massive stars (the size of suns when you see the sun during the day), the stars travelling in a circle which had a point where the stars would pass over the moon. Once the stars would pass over the moon, it was I think the stars that would shine brighter (and possibly the moon as well?). And so I may or may not have been thinking about the crack in the roof from that dream... but I wouldn't doubt that the verse about the crack in the roof was just a random instinctual touch that came to mind that felt right in the moment.
Ayn Jan 2020
At a vexing infernal ball,
The molten ash lights up
An intricate obsidian hall.

The devil walked up to me
Offered a withering lily,
And asked for my decaying hand.

So I waltzed with the devil
Graceful fluid movements,
Like the blood leaking
From my long closed wounds.

Hand in decaying hand,
Ashen footprint by ashen footprint,
We drift further into our moment,
Dancing at the depths of our hell.

The dance will end in its own time.
The inevitable death of the
Minor notes of deprivation draw closer.
My heart starts syncing with the notes,
Tuning it's strings to the icy song in play.

As the ending major chords finish
Their prolonged hymn of fate,
The devil leans over my helpless body
And donates a kiss to my struggling lips,
Ending my life in its entirety.

Now a silent ballroom remains.
A silent ashen body lays stagnant,
And soon fades off into the dust
That decorates the ebony floor.

Two unscorched hands still lay,
But they are frail, and will soon decay.
Apparently flower language is a thing. The lily is important to that. I found it a cool idea to have life be a dance with the devil. I think there's a saying about dancing with the devil. Anyways, I'm pretty sure I'm talking to myself with these notes, but that's okay, because... it just is, ya know?
Morgan Alexander Sep 2019
He lay there in a *****, unkept ball,
Having surrendered to the pavement.
Wisps of stringy brown hair
Covered the lines on his sunken in face,
His yellow smoked eyes, rheumy and blurred,
His vision hazy, like a punch-drunk boxer.

Kathleen Harmon sashayed by
With nary a glace downward.
Once they were equals,
When they sat together
During high school Chemistry.

Time slowed from a Tango to a Waltz,
As a drop of saliva
Kissed the pavement.
Stringing there from his cracked, parted lips.

His tangled brown whiskers,
Patchy on his cheeks,
Had lengthened with the passing days
Since their last meeting with a razor.

Nikes, Prada, and Gucci
Ignore him in passing
All sports, fashion, and business meetings;
On the clock, and self-absorbed.

Dusk marked the sky
With a violet crayon
Worn to a nub,
Then worn to nothing.

A sudden thud startled him awake!
Then blackened hardwood stunned him as it bit into his ribs!
A caustic voice berated his slumber,
A navy blue reminder that even surrender was no escape.
The world and its arbitrary hierarchy *****.
Georgi Naydenov Jul 2019
A red moon cast on a folly filled night
Humans hid away in fright
A haunting melody was in the air tonight
For the Bone King had arisen from his lair

A lone maiden of silky woven red dared
For she ventured into lands mortals bewared
Slowly following the music of the dead
Not knowing where it led

She encountered the King amongst the tombs of the undead
The land around him had already dwindled
Not even a single flower had remained
But she did not dare fleed

Slowly she took his bony hand
As they danced amongst his land
The Bone King was in disbelief
Why was this fair maiden not scared?

“Maiden, wherefore art thou not afraid? I dareth not guaranteeth thou art safe, f'r I am but a monst'r.”
“Why should I be afraid of the most magnificent being ever made? My king, you fail to understand, for our souls are a reflection of one another.”
"I am a monst'r, am I not? F'r all apart from thee did withdraw, leaving me withthe sc'rn undead."
"You are for them, my King. But what value do the words they utter hold? Beauty rests in the eye of the beholder."

"And f'r me, thou art the most wondrous."
This is my personal edit on a short poem under the video "Waltz of the Bone King". Credits for half of the poem and for the idea that sparked my interest go to "Infinite Daydreams"
Postal Leo May 2019
I observe, a beautiful girl,
Piano kicks up,
And it sounds like twinkling stars.
She sings about being broken,
A prisoner in her own home.
Trust me…
I know what it’s like, to be all alone.

And I’m not one to get hyped over nothing,
But the fact we’re so similar,
Might just mean something.
So give me a chance to surprise you,
Mighty Queen,
I'll be your worker, if you work with me.

I can be different,
Isn’t every guy one of a kind?
But I’m not very special, hell, i don't even fly.
But give me, maybe, five seconds, and spare me a glance
And I’ll make us disappear,
Even ask for this dance.
And we can waltz through winter,
Jump through june,
Disappear back in april,
And you end up right back in your room.

Then i could reveal my magic trick,
And maybe we'd kiss.
But since this is all,
A shot in the dark,
Maybe I’d miss.
And maybe I’d get the, “Let’s just be friends…”
Maybe I should shut up.
Daily Upload!
faa Mar 2019
Whether it was the sun’s aurelian caress
Or the serene strokes of moonlight lulled
Across its keys carved with much finesse
Monochrome yet its beauty never dulled

A sonata lightly, it hummed, reverberating
Across gently, waves of sound, resonating
The tune seemed to hush the grounds
Effortlessly silencing the cry of hounds

Each tap across the tonal stairs had slashed
The breast of the wounded, whom had clashed
Echoes of nature’s enthrallment seems to linger
The music still bewitching the conducting finger

Corpses waltzing to the nightly sombre dirges
Pleading to allow their rest under the birches
How the sonata tortures all that it imprisons
How the sonata torments all those that listens
Ian Robinson Jan 2019
With masks all around
I walk up to you

I want to know how someone so faceless
Can be beautiful too

"I'll lead but just for you"

Taking your hand
we waltz as two
Marauding in this
Masquerade
Meant for you
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