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On winter nights beside the nursery fire
We read the fairy tale, while glowing coals
Builded its pictures. There before our eyes
We saw the vaulted hall of traceried stone
Uprear itself, the distant ceiling hung
With pendent stalactites like frozen vines;
And all along the walls at intervals,
Curled upwards into pillars, roses climbed,
And ramped and were confined, and clustered leaves
Divided where there peered a laughing face.
The foliage seemed to rustle in the wind,
A silent murmur, carved in still, gray stone.
High pointed windows pierced the southern wall
Whence proud escutcheons flung prismatic fires
To stain the tessellated marble floor
With pools of red, and quivering green, and blue;
And in the shade beyond the further door,
Its sober squares of black and white were hid
Beneath a restless, shuffling, wide-eyed mob
Of lackeys and retainers come to view
The Christening.
A sudden blare of trumpets, and the throng
About the entrance parted as the guests
Filed singly in with rare and precious gifts.
Our eager fancies noted all they brought,
The glorious, unattainable delights!
But always there was one unbidden guest
Who cursed the child and left it bitterness.


The fire falls asunder, all is changed,
I am no more a child, and what I see
Is not a fairy tale, but life, my life.
The gifts are there, the many pleasant things:
Health, wealth, long-settled friendships, with a name
Which honors all who bear it, and the power
Of making words obedient. This is much;
But overshadowing all is still the curse,
That never shall I be fulfilled by love!
Along the parching highroad of the world
No other soul shall bear mine company.
Always shall I be teased with semblances,
With cruel impostures, which I trust awhile
Then dash to pieces, as a careless boy
Flings a kaleidoscope, which shattering
Strews all the ground about with coloured shards.
So I behold my visions on the ground
No longer radiant, an ignoble heap
Of broken, dusty glass. And so, unlit,
Even by hope or faith, my dragging steps
Force me forever through the passing days.
Carly Salzberg Sep 2010
pile your musty ten
-drills of cloth in an anonymous  
mold rainbow
pile suited
impostures that cut out the
life of you
pile white t-shirts
stained in crimson
pile hip hugging denim
that never left ya
pile cotton
once bloated calmly against
blush tickled skin and pile nine
white ankle socks and one
wool sweater.
pile rite set hammy
downs to the ground just pile
everything and anything
that clung weathered to ya
pile your game day penny
sweat in a velvet aroma of
cheap beer and hot glue
pile up iron pressed blouses
and saggy waged sweats
pile color scented molds
dipped in tethered laced
songs of you.
Izlecan Nov 2019
As thou leap in lieu of a lay,
Would i be eminent within a brawl of the sane?
Or,
Art
Thou
Insane?
Would I see the dilemma of
Impostures
From the very own standards;
Am i prone or mayst thou not?
One adopts too much of that haze.
Am i in tone or canst thou not?
Till the loop becomes a tease,
I acquire a bit of a bitter taste.
And like a confusion teetering a jelly cake,
I blow the candles with no such sense.
And the sheets shall not tolerate(?)
The breaths of a complete phase,
But rather a heap of the mind game;
Like an unimaginably,
Ironically,
Wandering nightmare.
Though age counts the years,
I heave for the confusion on the jelly cake;
As thou leap in lieu of a lay.
Sweetheart Nov 2014
DHW
I need a Romeo
to die for this Juliet,
I need someone willing
to catch me if I fall for him.
Someone sweet
Someone kind
Someone who won't lie to me.
All I ever wanted was a guy
to make me happy.
So many impostures,
break, break, breaking my heart.
I think I've cried so much
that I could cry you a river.

Even though you broke my heart
I still want to hold you
wishing every day that you would realize
that she's wrong for you.
please come back to  me
I wonder what we could be

I miss you and I know you miss me too
baby please come back to me
she is getting in our way.
wrote 4 years ago

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