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Sujan Aug 20
The son of heaven,  erupts with rage,
The south, dare profane my land,
The court tries to appease,
But to no avail.

The emperor's decree,
Bugle the horn and prepare for war!
The granaries full, the armoury filled,
The journey is long.

The soldier,
Kneel, to their parents,
Pray to their gods,
And fly kisses to their love,
Then they march.

Treacherous road, even more the goal,
The entourage proceeds,
Joins the youth, with sickle and hoes,
To their end,
For the love of their land.

South is in sight,
This green plain, todays battleground,
The sun dazzles the land,
As it awaits without care.

The enemy a swarm of yellow,
And ours the mighty black,
The dawn is long,

Close they eyes,
Reminiscence if it's their last,
The tears of mother,
The stern look on my father,
The embrace of love,
And the playful children.

And they march,
The horse gallops,
And within heart blazes a fire,
Of anger and wrath,
For their country.

Clang, the shields raised high,
Roar, the spears pierce deep,
And shine the metallic armour,
And dye the green with red.

The wind bellows,
And With it carries the smell of blood,
The land a shade of green and dark red,
A beautiful red poppy.

The light of day dares not intrude the flower,
Herein lies the true hell, feast upon it,
And see what you create,
The bugle calls the end of war,
But none a soul shouts a victory call

In a serene morning,
A widow, dares interrupt my court,
Within a web of spears,
The widow with eyes of fire,

"His Majesty, Your imperial highness, I hear
Your country won, What about the people?"

hurtlovebug91 May 18
This I wear
As a widow wears her ring
To never take it off
Never ready to let go

Only Being able to forget for a moment
Living with regret
Living with remorse
Never to fully recover

I wear you to show my love
I will never take you off
I wear you as a widow wears her ring
I wear you my Bracelet
The Shrinking Season
by Michael R. Burch

With every wearying year
the weight of the winter grows
and while the schoolgirl outgrows
her clothes,
the widow disappears
in hers.

Originally published by Angle. Keywords/Tags: schoolgirl, outgrows, clothes, widow, disappears, winter, time, shrinking, season, atrophy, emaciation, bone, loss
Scarlett Oct 2019
My words are but shells of emotion
poorly imitating my thoughts
so why return to poetic devotion
and warmly embrace all I've fought

How do you decipher the incomprehensible
the unfathomable side effects of existence
what god resides here must think me dispensable
may it fear my thrashing and resistance  

these stoic shells have returned presently
and like death they stubbornly prevail
when I fade into the unknown pleasantly
these words shall live on past my last exhale
writing for the first time in a long time... sometimes words do not meet our tragedies, nor do they our triumphs. but they are all we have in a world of sin and insanity
Lady Ravenhill Oct 2019
Lured by her intrigues
They know they are almost caught
In her spider silk
©LadyRavenhill 2019
Haiku 119
Jenna Lucht Sep 2019
Is like being a toddler.

Everyone talking at you,
Not understanding your broken, new words.

And you scream
You cry

Begging for reason to resume.

Yet you’re just a toddler
Only having a temper tantrum.

That is what they will tell you.
And you will believe it.

Your hair won’t be thinning
Your skin isn’t covered in hives
Your bones don’t ache
You don’t have trouble focusing
Your mind isn’t hallucinating
You aren’t bruising easily
You’re not having nightmares.

It’ll all be in your head.
And you will believe it.
Jenna Lucht Aug 2019
i want to peel off
all my skin
out of punishment
for knowing it was once
touched by you.

tear away
bit by bit its memories
out of jealousy
that you’re gone
and it remains.

i will then
hastily tape it back
piece by piece
the only remaining artifice
of your earthly exploration.

it will be ugly-
it is ugly.
without your touch-
it is useless.
I have a Spotify Playlist
Called Black Widow
It is
A collection that you
Should give a listen to...

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