"cinderellas" poems
England you had your chance to dance
on soccers biggest stage with France
you had your chance to advance
but you fell to Croatia's lance
how two stricken spears quelled the romance
and now cinderellas laugh at your trance
as a sorry Big Ben now sits in a prance
while the Croats sip your tea and perchance
To continue.
Oh, my. Now Belgium takes third in your belly up dance
You reign now like a fish at the surface with its sad eyes askance
Where did it all go Big Ben, the spirited stance
Sigh. To wait four years lost to be tickled with waning happenstance
Logan Robertson
7/12/2018
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 4:58 AM UTC
¨oh cinderella¨ the prince called out cinderellas name lovingly filling her heart with fear. his call used to make her feel safe and secure. ¨what a fool i was¨she thought. ¨now im going to die hereº ¨hello my dear¨ the prince sadisticly smiled. ¨hello.¨cinderella rolled her blue eyes coldly. ¨why the aditude cinderella? you know i don't like that. we're not going to get anywhere if you keep pushing me away like this. ¨ the prince raised his eyebrows sympathetically. cinderella shook her head in aggravation ¨dont you get it? i dont want to get anywhere with you. you are everything i hate about this god forsaken world.¨
the prince chuckled ¨it's so adorable when you try to act like you're smar cinderella. do you even know what the word godforsaken means??? he laughed. ¨your lack of wit is so very comical¨ he smiled as he began to walk away. ¨where are you going¨ cinderella called out. ¨into town. now dont you go anywhere.¨ he laughed. ¨i have to find a doctor who will come to the palace re–break your arm and put it in a cast for me.¨
¨break my arm?¨ cinderella jumped. ¨yes my dear it's not going to heal correctly that way now is it? see how difficult you make things cinderella? if you would have just stayed instead of trying to leave me with a broken heart then i wouldn't have had to break your arm and we wouldnt be in this situation. why? why cant you just let me love you?¨ the prince looked at cinderella sympathetocly as he turned away and slowly dissapeared into the darkness of the dungeon. cinderella wept uncontrolably.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
In twilight sleep,
thoughts out of control,
images take hold.
Viewed against the canvass of blackness,
dead people dance
with succubi an incubuses.
Tiny gymnasts
balance on sharp edged swords
in le cirque du soleil
under a moonless sky.
Grimm’s tales
of baked children
and hungry wolves
play out. On a runway
starving women show
the latest fashions in cardinal red.
The Grinch stole my green silk Balenciaga gown.
Gave it to the frog prince.
Sleeping beauty is just a ******
She had too much of all of it.
Hermes glass slippers are sold
Only too few and deserving Cinderellas,
trophy wives of mummified kings.
What they really deserve is not on the menu.
Just le plat du jour of ortolans.
The three pigs are out of breath,
Not enough air for a blow job.
Rose colored glasses take on a nasty
hue of watered down blood.
Bottle green is not la couleur du jour,
rather that bile color
with a tint of pus yellow.
There is a storm brewing,
A tsunami rising,
the earth shakes,
Volcano red lava
licks down the mountain.
Destiny?
Fate?
Apocalypse?
A voice whispers:
put up a shield, a bright canvass.
Paint with bold rounded strokes
in earthen tones. Mold vessels
to hold the morning dew.
Catch rays of sun
in a glass glockenspiel.
Hum the world, sing life.
Touch, feel, be alive.
A ray of sun sneaks through the blinds.
Dust dances in a shaft of light.
I am safe, for another day.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC
You are breaking everything with your (un)worn shoes
Stomping on stereotypes, evil, and souls
While tasting the smoke of a rolled cigarette.
Then you worship the streets in the background of jazz
Calling a revolution:
The king is dead, long live the anarchy,
Monarchy is buried under fedoras and ashes.
Damp fingers and open lips cease to surprise,
Just burning leftovers of shame and bray goosebumps
In churches. Heavy breathing nuns and squeaking altars...
Men, what can you see through the illuminators of your glasses?
Your planes and ships, machines have already turned
Back into pumpkins, bleeding cinderellas and their babies
Born in the tales of horror.
Evening - it's the new tomorrow! Instincts wake and it doesn't hurt
When you tickle the Milky Way in search of a Friend.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 8:22 AM UTC
Naked pink and ebony feet
brush the slimy grass filled path
Through the tea fields elephants retreat
After a night of jaded mud bath
Armored with sack and gunny weight
Enter the frost covered fields in drowsy rest
Wake up the greens to a gentle fright
And pluck under care of enchanting *******
The supervisor mackintosh
Walking with a bend and a toss
Shout at those Cinderellas
Who look for shoes and umbrellas
Even before its time to knock off
The tin covered temple of olfactory auditory deity,
the holy Garden tea
The chanting enchanting to a coma hot mesmerizing wafts of aroma
fills the air, capture the sense of all devotees who belong to the Orthodox commune TEA or CTC.
The sirens bugle the devotees into fits
They come in shifts for worship.
The tender hearts freshly plucked before they attain mature Tea
Spread to wither under a hell
of a hot air with care.
crushed and torn and curled,
the souls are put into a purgatory rotary drum to pause to meditate
on the ephemeral color change
To cover the green with copper red
Garment to ferment before being sent
to the fluid fire dance
To attire in black and retire
in packages
for a last plunge in to a boiling cauldron
The finale
Endgame
A sacramental service,
a self sacrifice to energize the tired souls
In cups of tea..
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 1:07 PM UTC
and the smell of crushed pine cones was so strong it made the whole world feel sharper, like glass
dull colored leaves crunched under our feet
I imagined them all to be Cinderellas who had been
just for a moment, colorful&bright;&perfect;
then I only stepped on rocks and you laughed at me and called me silly.
I loved it though, the way you threw your head back and put your hands on your knees, your eyes crinkled
your laugh echoed off the mountains it was so loud and
happy it made me want to sing,
all the birds cried out in surprise and flew away over our heads
so many of them they covered the sky for a moment
just the downy blanket of soft crow's wings, the silence seemed so loud after that
you took my hand, it was so big it covered all of mine and I felt the calluses and strength of it until your hand was so warm I pulled away;
you looked sad so I twisted around you and took your other hand.
sometimes it's like trying to remember a long-forgotten dream, trying to remember these times;
other times I can hold a pine cone,
an inky black crow feather,
and I can hear your laugh still echoing in my head.
Aug 23, 2010
Aug 23, 2010 at 10:50 AM UTC
Lyrics racing through my mind,
the meaning hidden from sight causing me to become blind.
Cinderellas gone I guess it's time she grew,
especially after everything she's been through.
No more ruffled dresses and careless fears,
under her eyes is where the makeup smears.
Time to say goodbye to the Illusions of the king,
time for her to make the saddest song to sing.
Time to move on from 'Prince Charming',
time to let go of her feeling of yearning.
Standing up with her head held high,
she doesnt look back and wonder why.
Now she's moved on to her real prince,
though the saddness built up tastes so quince.
Knowing she'll have time for her heart to mend,
she still knows whats going to impend.
With every single breath she takes,
and every single time she shakes.
For every single time she falls.
She knows he'll be there for her through it all.....
After she sat there and cried,
on the inside she died.
Once white she's now a black Swan,
For now Cinderella's gone.
Looking to her muse her face remains blank,
the man's heart sank.
Her lips parted with a voice so strong,
she said 'Sing me another song, Cinderella's gone and shes not coming back so long.
Let her go back she's gone.
Bring me another day,
then send me on my merry way.
Illusions for the king don't work on me at all'
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 8:55 PM UTC
i don’t think it’s allowable
for me to be jealous of someone i
haven’t ever met but i wonder what
goes through your mind when he says “i love you,
my little starlet.” the other
day i swear i overheard the news reporters
on channel seven
talk about the cinderellas that
walk out of your job because you
give them glass slippers and make their parents
actually love them. in the background,
my roommates are talking to their temporary girlfriends and
they’re whispering “he can’t see anything, don’t
worry about him. he should be used to this by now.”
my mother, she worries about me. she told
me to stick to myself like super glue and the only
thing that should separate me is the sweaty palms
from holding your hand in subway cars at **** near midnight.
i need you now more than anything mom. tell me that
i’m going to be okay and maybe one day, i’ll be happy.
i need more than a shooting star, i need the whole galaxy.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
***Perhaps life is like a fairytale
In order to get your ultimate happily ever after
You must suffer a thorny path of trials and tribulations
Like cinderellas cruel enslavement before her prince
And Aladins miserable poverty before his golden lamp and genie
Yet once proven sincerely worthy of a happily ever after
May one reap the harvested glorious joy of a blissful eternal life.***
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 7:29 AM UTC
Neste lugar azul, coberto de céu e rodeado de mar, onde surgiu a vida de tantos seres e de tantas outras coisas que a nossa mente tanta dificuldade têm em perceber.
Neste lugar que Deus nos deu, cedo percebemos que aquilo que nos foi dano e que é nosso, se partilha, nos é dado vendido e cobiçado.
Neste lugar, existem tantas coisas, mas tantas coisas, umas que se vêm, outras que se sentem, outras que se ouvem e outras tantas que se cheiram e saboreiam, que quanto mais vamos vivendo com elas, melhor as identificamos e melhor as deveríamos perceber.
No entanto, existe o Homem, que se julga um Deus, que pouco ou nada sabe, nem sempre sente e se comove com o que este lugar maravilhoso que agora é fusco nos dá e nós tão bem desperdiçamos.
Aquilo que o homem não entende, não é de fácil aceitação, e em vez de percepcionar o que os ensinamentos dos tempos nos deixaram, idiotamente questiona tudo, todos e qualquer coisa que sua mente pequena não enxerga.
O caminho da perdição normalmente apresenta-se como o mais fácil, em qualquer coisa que o mundo tenha mas nem sempre é o destino certo que a história poderia deixar.
As coisas não têm de ser obrigatoriamente belas, e este lugar não é conto de Cinderellas, é qualquer coisa que temos de ver, que temos de passar, sentir a vitória e a dificuldade, o ser filho e depois ser pai e quando mais vamos sabendo, ao invés de sermos mais fortes e capazes a fragilidade da idade chega e nos mostra a realidade em cada dia e a cada hora. Ai o sonho se torna real, perceptível e a esperança se agarra ao nosso olhar.
Autor: António Benigno
Código de autor: 2017081421450108
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 5:02 PM UTC
I'm dancing. I'm drowning. I hate myself, please leave me. No, don't go, I love you. I need you, I'm nothing without you, please stay! Who the **** am I anyways? I never knew me. Eulogy my insanity, nothing else is me. There's nothing in my name, I am not words, I am not okay. Leave me BE! I'm so lonely... my paradoxical heart is beating me to death and I can't breathe, not even rapturously, I'm burning alive from the inside out. As if that feeling ever even existed, it's nothingness and pain, just like I am, constantly playing some pseudo game of cat and mouse with my mind, except I'm never the cat until I snap and eat Cinderellas friends. I'm tired and hyper, will you please just stay and go away? I'm sick of pleading with and of you to the point where I never even loved you because I don't even know what that word or all these others mean, nothing is as it seems... I'm floating outside myself, nothing next to nothing is still nothing, full of rage. I can't do this anymore, off with my head. How can you make nothingness dead? I'm empty and nothing so how can nothing be empty, I can't contain my pain... ahhh I'm screaming someone please don't help, you can't anyways, so just play hide and go **** yourself or me, I don't even know... I so badly want to feel something, anything, can't I cut me? No, they all get mad and send me away... who the hell is talking? Is this even me? This is and isn't me. Oh **** I AM ****** I've gotta go away.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 4:59 AM UTC
I just want to relive those days again,
When I used to smile genuinely,
Instead of giving a fake tight lipped one.
I want to be the child again,
Who used to get happy,
As if given his favorite cotton candy;
I want to be the mischievous one again,
Who used to give a cheeky- smile & puppy eyes,
On being caught for the little mischiefs';
I want to live my utopia,
Where every thing is just so perfect;
Where Cinderellas' have a happily ever after,
Where a knight in shining armor,
Is waiting for his damsel,
Where Augustus and Hazel become a single soul,
Where partings are never too longing.
I miss my old self,
Who used to believe fairy godmothers are real,
And one day she would meet the seven little dwarfs,
Who would be ready to protect her.
I miss the one little kiddo:
Who would instantly look up at a shooting star,
As if wishing for someone to wake her up,
And take her covertly to meet Olaf,
The one whose banter was enjoyed,
The one whose laugh was contagious.
But now it feels like,
It's all in the past...
Sep 21, 2021
Sep 21, 2021 at 8:03 AM UTC