#monarchs - Hello Poetry

modern monarchs, recorded in technicolor think its real, but its cake think its real, but its fake under the guise of god’s fate modern monarchs, makeshift mothers desperation at stake where are all the fathers under the guise of god’s fate, we falter

0

Jul 13, 2022

Jul 13, 2022 at 2:35 PM UTC

munybee

Modern Monarchs

modern monarchs, recorded in technicolor think its real, but its cake think its real, but its fake under the guise of god’s fate modern monarchs, makeshift mothers desperation at stake where are all the fathers under the guise of god’s fate, we falter

8

The wrong, as always, was the right for us, tainted trust stained with the blood of our previous victims; those whims of wondering what loving touch could feel like. It burnt us, softened us to smoke, that floated quiet out the door before dawn could break the news and break the illusion. We were loners, Devoted to laying the stones of our own path, Never held back tangles of commitment. Without them we were untethered dreams that broke into reality and made ourselves the monarchs of our lowley, lonely kingdoms. Look what those whims have done to our crowns; Rusty and bent they fall hapless on our heads as we stand before crowds of shadows cast by our egos. There are no romances, no capes, Princes or heroes in this land of the leftovers. Only us The wrong adorned as right The deniers of the light of love (That weakness of giving in and giving all). How cold it all becomes when our dreams are big but hearts are empty.

0

Jun 28, 2020

Jun 28, 2020 at 4:10 PM UTC

Tootytots1

Kingdom of empty hearts

The wrong, as always, was the right for us, tainted trust stained with the blood of our previous victims; those whims of wondering what loving touch could feel like. It burnt us, softened us to smoke, that floated quiet out the door before dawn could break the news and break the illusion. We were loners, Devoted to laying the stones of our own path, Never held back tangles of commitment. Without them we were untethered dreams that broke into reality and made ourselves the monarchs of our lowley, lonely kingdoms. Look what those whims have done to our crowns; Rusty and bent they fall hapless on our heads as we stand before crowds of shadows cast by our egos. There are no romances, no capes, Princes or heroes in this land of the leftovers. Only us The wrong adorned as right The deniers of the light of love (That weakness of giving in and giving all). How cold it all becomes when our dreams are big but hearts are empty.

26

I wish we could all be traditional heroes from way back then, who answered to people's beck and call. But now we've blurred the line between suffering and falsehood, and just as people can scoff at the silenced weak, the words of our present heroes can be as soothing as whispering to a festered wound.

0

Aug 24, 2019

Aug 24, 2019 at 8:20 AM UTC

acina-joy

A Hero's Speech

I wish we could all be traditional heroes from way back then, who answered to people's beck and call. But now we've blurred the line between suffering and falsehood, and just as people can scoff at the silenced weak, the words of our present heroes can be as soothing as whispering to a festered wound.

1

Two monarchs cross paths dancing around eachother. With words so airy, one should know to be wary of what will be said next. "How does your son fair?" "Fairs as well as yours I presume." "Yours always had a knack for flair." "Yours always could wow a room." Disguised insults spoken. Each compliment flapped away with wings that carry the monarch to their next test. Where they'll see which flowers they like best. To gather in support of their queens. "You know what would be tragic?" "Why do you continue to speak?" "If a son were to fall to magic, before his heart could take a beat." The two monarchs parted ways. Promises rolling off their tongues as sweet as the nectar they drank. But were designed to attack the other's rank. Their success depends on the other's defeat. Conversation stalls as the monarchs fly home. On wings decorated so finely. Each of their thoughts seem to turn towards their sons Just caterpillars before their transformations. Weaving their chrysalis with determination. Though they're far apart the monarchs speak the same words "I fear for you, my son, in this great world, Our reign can never last for long. But I wish for you to have your chance To encapture the world in a trance With a grace bestowed upon your wings I wish for you to make others sing. For I've seen the tragedy of the other king Just before transformation I saw a caterpillar die in its chrysalis." "I saw a caterpillar die in its chrysalis," "I saw a caterpillar die..." "My son, that has made all the difference."

0

Dec 9, 2018

Dec 9, 2018 at 9:43 AM UTC

tatiana

Monarchs

Two monarchs cross paths dancing around eachother. With words so airy, one should know to be wary of what will be said next. "How does your son fair?" "Fairs as well as yours I presume." "Yours always had a knack for flair." "Yours always could wow a room." Disguised insults spoken. Each compliment flapped away with wings that carry the monarch to their next test. Where they'll see which flowers they like best. To gather in support of their queens. "You know what would be tragic?" "Why do you continue to speak?" "If a son were to fall to magic, before his heart could take a beat." The two monarchs parted ways. Promises rolling off their tongues as sweet as the nectar they drank. But were designed to attack the other's rank. Their success depends on the other's defeat. Conversation stalls as the monarchs fly home. On wings decorated so finely. Each of their thoughts seem to turn towards their sons Just caterpillars before their transformations. Weaving their chrysalis with determination. Though they're far apart the monarchs speak the same words "I fear for you, my son, in this great world, Our reign can never last for long. But I wish for you to have your chance To encapture the world in a trance With a grace bestowed upon your wings I wish for you to make others sing. For I've seen the tragedy of the other king Just before transformation I saw a caterpillar die in its chrysalis." "I saw a caterpillar die in its chrysalis," "I saw a caterpillar die..." "My son, that has made all the difference."

42

My healing began Six months into my recovery When I tattooed a monarch on my arm And tried to ignore the irony That what I had chosen to protect myself Was something so laughably fragile But what people don't understand Is that monarchs are migrational They may only live six months But they travel over 3,000 miles All the way from Canada to Mexico And back again They see more in those six months of life Then most humans do in a lifetime They live So maybe my butterfly Wasn't about protection at all Maybe it was just my decision to live.

0

Apr 13, 2016

Apr 13, 2016 at 10:29 AM UTC

charlotte-emma-lewis

Monarchs

My healing began Six months into my recovery When I tattooed a monarch on my arm And tried to ignore the irony That what I had chosen to protect myself Was something so laughably fragile But what people don't understand Is that monarchs are migrational They may only live six months But they travel over 3,000 miles All the way from Canada to Mexico And back again They see more in those six months of life Then most humans do in a lifetime They live So maybe my butterfly Wasn't about protection at all Maybe it was just my decision to live.

18

Dandelion dreams wisped from The lips of summers past, Lips tasted And gilded became the cage, So to, ushered, My sense of belonging. I tried to move on, An couldn’t And she knew it; She knew that I couldn’t The moment – I’d fallen upon her lap As she grabbed one more Dandelion And took one more breath And blew the dead petals Whilst making the wind somehow Dance, and I, The fool once more – In love and unable to flee.

0

Mar 9, 2016

Mar 9, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC

liam-c-calhoun

Summer's Monarch

Dandelion dreams wisped from The lips of summers past, Lips tasted And gilded became the cage, So to, ushered, My sense of belonging. I tried to move on, An couldn’t And she knew it; She knew that I couldn’t The moment – I’d fallen upon her lap As she grabbed one more Dandelion And took one more breath And blew the dead petals Whilst making the wind somehow Dance, and I, The fool once more – In love and unable to flee.

20