Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sweet William,
            I've done heard it all be-fore,
          You got the looks, got the hair,
             that clever draw and more...

But sweetie here I am again,
Got Momma here, -crying again.
Wrecked-up face, my map of men,
This time so bad, lad, -you ain't fixin'

William!
    My sweet Will-i-am,
William!
    My sweet Will-i-am,

...you ain't gonna hit me no more.

Some love is hard/borders on sin,
Crying to God, please A-men?
Goodbye door, my bags packing,
Well-heeled feet, living A-gain,

William!
    My sweet Will-i-am,
William!
    My sweet Will-i-am,

...you ain't gonna hit me no more.

SWEET WILLIAM!
    Sweet William,

Hurting no, -no more...
Call me up- 'ev-er-y' night
Devil at My door,
Battle yourself/I'm not your fight.

...you ain't gonna hurt me no more.
Jade Feb 2018
I. The Funeral



Take the rosemary

they have pressed between my toes

and use it to garnish

your next glass of wine.

As you drink

make a toast,

not to merriment,

but to lamentation–

to the remembrance

of thy maiden’s death.



Cheers! to the unity

of our most unwavering

disgrace.



Cheers to what

has been broken.



In a fit of maddening remorse–

for this time the madness shall be tangible–

tear away the silk

lining of this

****** funeral bed

like you did tear

away the curtain and what

hid behind it.



Tear it away!



Tear it away like you did

tear the rat,

like you did tear and discard

the honour that did lie

between thy maiden’s legs,

like the river’s rapids

did tear away thy maiden’s life.



And once you have

sheathed your sword–

I entreat you–

kneel and bow your head

in surrender to the lilies

that lie before my grave;

you will caress their stems

and kiss their petals

in the hopes that

your love–the love

you did deny me–

will breathe life back

into these water-logged lungs.



But just as it is certain

that the flowers,

in their cyclical phases

of nature,

must bloom,

it is also certain that the dead

must remain dead.



For there is nothing so definite

as the blooming

just as there is nothing so definite

as the dying.



–Post Madness



II. The Drowning



My gown billows around

me like the slick

ripple of a mermaid’s fin.



I can hear the Lady Siren’s Song

and all of its guarantees:

liberation of this life’s

betrayals and heartbreaks,

liberation procured

by the certainty of death.



I **** the nectar of her voice,

drinking in every crescendo–

every last staccato–

of what the water has

promised me.

I **** the nectar of her voice

as I had so foolishly

suckt at the honey of his

music vows,

the same way

his own babe would

have suckt the milk

from the swell of my breast–

my babe to be

that shall never be

drowned by my sodden womb,

my babe whose mother–

certain in what proved to be

the uncertainty

of her lord’s love–

conceived him

in a bed of sin,

a bed of dishonour.



So now, my sweet child,

I do not object

to the deluge that

threatens to drag us

beneath the current,

for perhaps

this is the only way

to put the dishonour

to rest.



So float with me,

my sweet nymph,

and let us both dissolve

into spirits of the river.



–The Pinnacle of Madness



III. The Heartbreak



I, A maid at your window,

mouth glittering in anticipation

for your sweet, valentined kiss.



To the celestial and my soul’s idol, the most beautified Ophelia…



And so up you rose

to unlatch the chamber door–

to meet the nestle of

soft, petaled lips.



Doubt thou the stars are fire,



Doublet unbraced,

you undressed

and to this, My Lord, I

so willingly followed.



Doubt that the sun doth move,



Corset loosened and

gown discarded

with you, I did lie.



Doubt truth be a liar,



So certain I was of your love,

that sin no longer daunted me.



But never doubt I love.



And certainly I was proven wrong,

for in the escapade of our passion

we did touch so dishonourably.



–Pre-Madness (The Inciting Incident)
b Dec 2017
The sun casts two shadows of me down on the pavement
And I could do without either.
Oh what to do when your own novelty wears off,
But leave the clown for the birds.
Some swords have two edges but what does that matter if they're already in your stomach.
I don't believe in God yet,
But I do believe in karma.
So **** the part of me that loves the world
And I promise there'll be hell to pay.
A T Bockholdt Dec 2017
Jorge

still in the night he
does not remember why
—sounds of her sighs

her small ears
pressing into the tight
space of the day

or the tenderness between
him and her
held in the air

the repeated denial
of the time set chained  
to hold their plans

were revolting against
trysts
spent in another’s gaze

2. Sebastian

the tenacious sense in
arrangement
lets slip imitation

how I could possess
your breath
and bear it

delicately freeing
my stances
I strained

in celebration
at the sanctification
that you’d
granted to Saint Sebastian
in Irene’s
blessing

will healing hands make
poetry
or trap the shaking  

of my languid silver pens  
taut but not
ready

3. Carlos

the sweet words
brought
for the lovers

that beats hard
each
hesitance

leaps
without fear
regarding

that
their time is
now here

the shape that
your
sighs take

suggesting
as if
limits don’t exist
This is part of collection for a senior portfolio project at CU Denver
Project is intended to represent the stylistic distinctions of great American poets through the imitation of their poetics and/or their subject matter

In this three section poem, "Enacting Imitation," I work to closely mirror William Carlos Williams poem "3 Stances." Williams uses enjambment to subtly infuse multiple meanings into his sparse lines. Williams poetry also enacts a metaphysical level that allows the reader to see the poet's space of thinking and anxieties in writing which we see in "Danse Russe," wherein Williams finds freedom in writing for himself. I also use his ideas of the variable foot to employ certain rhythmic tones and speeds into this imitation.
William D Hicks Oct 2017
Age
the mugger
sneaks up in the night
to burglarize my dreams
dash my hopes
shatter my faith  
and leave wrinkles that crease
olivia Jun 2017
I didn't even have shoes on
when they yanked me from my
inner world
and out into the Chicago cold
barefoot in the middle of the street
soon to be swaddled in a hospital gown
like Jesus
better yet:
William Shakespeare
bipolardisorder recoveryrecordings
MARK RIORDAN May 2017
DON'T WEAR YOUR HEART ON YOUR SLEEVE
THE QUEEN ADVISES THE YOUNG ROYALS
THERE ARE DEFINITELY TWO GENERATIONS
THAT FACE ALL THERE TOILS


ONE IS STRONG AND STOUT
AND HAS A GENERATION OF STRENGTH
THE OTHER GENERATION ARE YOUNG
AND EXPLAIN THEM IN LENGTH


BUT ONE THING IS FOR SURE THE
ROYAL FAMILY ARE TRULY LOVED
WEATHER IT'S THE QUEEN OR THE YOUNG ROYALS
THEY ARE BLESSED FROM ABOVE
THE QUEEN HAS ADVISED THE YOUNG ROYALS NOT TO WEAR THEIR HEARTS ON THERE SLEEVES. BUT THEY ARE TELLING IT LIKE IT IS MAYBE THAT IS REFRESHING INDEED.
MARK RIORDAN May 2017
PRINCE WILLIAM AND KATE
ARE SUING A MAGAZINE
THEIR PRIVATE LIVES ARE PRIVATE
AND NEVER TO BE SEEN


HERE IN AUSTRALIA JUST RELAXING
IN THE SUN AND TO REST
THE PAPARAZZI ARE TOO POUNCE
AND SHOW OF KATE'S BREAST


THIS INTRUSION INTO THERE LIFE
IS VERY QUESTIONABLE INDEED
THEY DEFINITELY HAVE THE RIGHT
TO SUE FOR MEDIA GREED
THE MEDIA HAVE TO HAVE ETHICS  WILLIAM AND KATE ARE SUING AN AUSSIE  MAGAZINE FOR PUBLISHING NAKED SHOTS OF KATE. EVEN A CHILD KNOWS THAT  THIS IS OF LIMITS HAVE SOME ETHICS PLEASE.
Next page