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If you danced from midnight
to six A.M. who would understand?

The runaway boy
who chucks it all
to live on the Boston Common
on speed and saltines,
******* in the duck pond,
rapping with the street priest,
trading talk like blows,
another missing person,
would understand.

The paralytic's wife
who takes her love to town,
sitting on the bar stool,
downing stingers and peanuts,
singing "That ole Ace down in the hole,"
would understand.

The passengers
from Boston to Paris
watching the movie with dawn
coming up like statues of honey,
having partaken of champagne and steak
while the world turned like a toy globe,
those murderers of the nightgown
would understand.

The amnesiac
who tunes into a new neighborhood,
having misplaced the past,
having thrown out someone else's
credit cards and monogrammed watch,
would understand.

The drunken poet
(a genius by daylight)
who places long-distance calls
at three A.M. and then lets you sit
holding the phone while he vomits
(he calls it "The Night of the Long Knives")
getting his kicks out of the death call,
would understand.

The insomniac
listening to his heart
thumping like a June bug,
listening on his transistor
to Long John Nebel arguing from New York,
lying on his bed like a stone table,
would understand.

The night nurse
with her eyes slit like Venetian blinds,
she of the tubes and the plasma,
listening to the heart monitor,
the death cricket bleeping,
she who calls you "we"
and keeps vigil like a ballistic missile,
would understand.

Once
this king had twelve daughters,
each more beautiful than the other.
They slept together, bed by bed
in a kind of girls' dormitory.
At night the king locked and bolted the door
. How could they possibly escape?
Yet each morning their shoes
were danced to pieces.
Each was as worn as an old jockstrap.
The king sent out a proclamation
that anyone who could discover
where the princesses did their dancing
could take his pick of the litter.
However there was a catch.
If he failed, he would pay with his life.
Well, so it goes.

Many princes tried,
each sitting outside the dormitory,
the door ajar so he could observe
what enchantment came over the shoes.
But each time the twelve dancing princesses
gave the snoopy man a Mickey Finn
and so he was beheaded.
****! Like a basketball.

It so happened that a poor soldier
heard about these strange goings on
and decided to give it a try.
On his way to the castle
he met an old old woman.
Age, for a change, was of some use.
She wasn't stuffed in a nursing home.
She told him not to drink a drop of wine
and gave him a cloak that would make
him invisible when the right time came.
And thus he sat outside the dorm.
The oldest princess brought him some wine
but he fastened a sponge beneath his chin,
looking the opposite of Andy Gump.

The sponge soaked up the wine,
and thus he stayed awake.
He feigned sleep however
and the princesses sprang out of their beds
and fussed around like a Miss America Contest.
Then the eldest went to her bed
and knocked upon it and it sank into the earth.
They descended down the opening
one after the other. They crafty soldier
put on his invisisble cloak and followed.
Yikes, said the youngest daughter,
something just stepped on my dress.
But the oldest thought it just a nail.

Next stood an avenue of trees,
each leaf make of sterling silver.
The soldier took a leaf for proof.
The youngest heard the branch break
and said, Oof! Who goes there?
But the oldest said, Those are
the royal trumpets playing triumphantly.
The next trees were made of diamonds.
He took one that flickered like Tinkerbell
and the youngest said: Wait up! He is here!
But the oldest said: Trumpets, my dear.

Next they came to a lake where lay
twelve boats with twelve enchanted princes
waiting to row them to the underground castle.
The soldier sat in the youngest's boat
and the boat was as heavy as if an icebox
had been added but the prince did not suspect.

Next came the ball where the shoes did duty.
The princesses danced like taxi girls at Roseland
as if those tickets would run right out.
They were painted in kisses with their secret hair
and though the soldier drank from their cups
they drank down their youth with nary a thought.

Cruets of champagne and cups full of rubies.
They danced until morning and the sun came up
naked and angry and so they returned
by the same strange route. The soldier
went forward through the dormitory and into
his waiting chair to feign his druggy sleep.
That morning the soldier, his eyes fiery
like blood in a wound, his purpose brutal
as if facing a battle, hurried with his answer
as if to the Sphinx. The shoes! The shoes!
The soldier told. He brought forth
the silver leaf, the diamond the size of a plum.

He had won. The dancing shoes would dance
no more. The princesses were torn from
their night life like a baby from its pacifier.
Because he was old he picked the eldest.
At the wedding the princesses averted their eyes
and sagged like old sweatshirts.
Now the runaways would run no more and never
again would their hair be tangled into diamonds,
never again their shoes worn down to a laugh,
never the bed falling down into purgatory
to let them climb in after
with their Lucifer kicking.
Nabs Dec 2015
By Nabs

    When I was little, I dreamed of being a princess.
Just like so many others do.

Imagining all the fun we will have.
Of Tea times and dressing in the finest dresses, wearing tiaras, and jewels,
      all day of the week.
              Princesses only seems to dress prettily in the stories.
                
We all dreamt of the same thing,
        Happy endings that always come at the end, cherished and pampered.

        Most of all loved by everyone.

  Princesses were always loved because she was inherently kind. Inherently docile.
Inherently pure and innocent.
              Inherently beautiful.

( Remember, Your purity is your worth)
                  
                            None of them was because
                                  people respected them.

All of them was because
Of their beauty.

      ( A princess have to pamper their self to utmost perfection, your beauty define your worth)

Princess is a symbol of perfection.
                                      Symbol of Divinity.

A guideline for Goodness and womanhood.
                Standards that shaped and pushed them self to little girls to be molded into a perfect piece of art that they them self would rarely get to enjoy.

( Art pieces, after all cannot admire them self)
    
                We have to strive for divinity and no less, because less means
        we will be condemned to be the wicked ones.

( No one bother to tell us that it is unreachable.)

        No one wanted to be the wicked ones because history burned who ever were branded as wicked.

      ( we stood on a world
piled with their ashes
          and everyone will claim it as a victory)

        One of the lesson, that these tale seems to croons that there is no in between for us.
        That there is only two archetypes for girls to grow up to.
The Princess or the Evil Witch.

Choose, the tale seems to shout.
            ( be obedient, be submissive).
                    (Good girls)
                ( Princess lives happily ever after).

(Fight, rebel, speak)
        (Bad girls)
  ( Evil witch will always be burned)
      
  ( This are the endings we have set for you, girls)

          Back then, after going home from school, I would read tales about princesses from all over the world.  
From Africa
                to Europe
                              to Asia.
      I devoured them like they were gospels, Laughing delightedly when the princes save the day then marries the princess, and frowning when the villain managed to defeat the heroes.
Happy endings,
      Happy endings.
( Death, is the only happy ending we will really get)

    I learned that to have a happy ending, a prince need to save me,
                from my self.

( Every princesses need a prince,
for a proper princess cannot save herself.
                
            You need to be saved to be complete)

      My parents called me their little darling princess, Their crown jewel,
              Their most cherished treasure.
They would hug me, clothed me, spun me into a figurine that they like.
Telling me that I am theirs.
Flesh and blood,
              Glittering orbs of red.
                                          Ownership.
Another princess tales, which plot echoes through out time. Beggars can't be choosers.
                              The same way a princess can't  choose anything for them self.

The tale said,
    A good daughter is an obedient daughter.

Shouting and screaming is prohibited.

( Lower your voice,
        princesses don't raise their voice.

They speak softly as soft as the flutter of butterfly wings

            or preferably they don't speak at all.)

      To be a princess, foremost is to sacrifice your whole being,
      To subdued your self
          To stop being human,
                and start being a treasure, a jewel.
Being fought over for the rights of possession.

( Isn't that the most highest pedestal you can put someone to?)

        As I grew up, these tales keep following me.

( Dont run, princesses never run.
                                    They submit.)
Of Snow white,
      Who was treated as if she was only an object of desire after the prince saw her dead in the glass coffins.
( You're mine, you got that?)

Of the sleeping beauty silence,
            that was taken as a consent to ravished her until she woke up because she gave birth to twins.
( Babe, you like this don't you? You have to, you're made for this)

Of the little mermaid plight,
      Discarding herself completely to be accepted on the lands, trading her voice and being in excruciating pain for her prince.
                        The one who will not love her.
( You look horrible in that, change into something prettier and for god sake, put some make up on)

Of Atalanta, who could not escape marriage
              and forced to marry a man she lost a race  unfairly to, because her father decrees so in the first place.
( My princess, you can't be with that person.  
                    They're not suited for you,
                              We want the best for you.
You don't know what's best for you. )
              
Of Bawang Putih and Bawang Merah,
                Echoing the morals, how your beauty define you, how you will be evil if you are less than beautiful.
( She's ugly, that's why she's jealous of her)

Of Putri Hijau ending,
            That to be free from being under the power of men, you have to jump into the ocean.
(You are mine, forever)

Of the archetypes for Good and Evil,
            ****, *****,
                      *****, Saint,
                              Witch, Princess.
( A good girl says yes, A bad girl say no)

How The Tales, often than not,
                          parallel each others, as if trying to drill them self into our subconsciousness with these toxic message.

( Princesses belongs to the people.
                      She never belongs to herself. )

These unspoken rules followed me into adulthood.

            Subconscious message of how to be  loved you need to be less.
You need to submit,
to be obedient,
docile,
pure,
innocent,
        most of all, you need to be beautiful.

      That beauty is how you're going to get your prince. Never it is because your wit, your courage, your wisdom,
what use do you have for them if you don't have a pretty face.

                No husband will find ever find you.

( Remember, wicked ones doesn't have a prince to set them straight.

                You don't want to be a wicked one,
                                                  Now do you?

So spread your legs, and lay down.
Take it. Atta girl!  )

These unreachable standards, bound us the same way they bound people feet to be dainty.
                They are rules for us to be less human, to be a thing.
      A princess, in this world is another term for a possession.

            (There is no such things as an independent princess, object need owners)

The stories always put them in gilded cages.

Once I asked why?
          Why do they need to be caged?
Why can't they be free?
        
The tales said that beautiful things needed somewhere to be kept.

The tales said many thing,
        seemingly innocent but  screaming about our worth, girls worth in the society.

(You need to be pretty for anyone to love you.)

(You're good if you are obedient.)

(You have no need for your voice,
                Silence is the only voice you need.)

(You're made to just lay down and take it.)

(You need a man to complete you
                                      and set you straight.)

(Never be yourself.)

I grew up wanting to be a princess,
Just like many others do.
        What we realized, to be a princess
                                  We have to be a slave.
                                      We have to be dead.
This was inspired by lots of books and articles I read.
Sorry for the cliche title, and thank you for reading the long poem.
Tammy M Darby Aug 2018
The yearning gentleman journeyed near and far
Hoping to acquire his long-sought heart's desire
Pictures carefully painted from a copy of a euphoric time
A multitude of young memories drawn from an aging mind

From storybooks he conjured up the delicate princess and the pea
Next came the white-eyed fairy beauty sailing deep lavender seas
Red headed was the other with eyes of fire
Nought satisfied his slowing blood
And hearts desire

Life with a light kiss
Sprinkled upon him a touch of madness and sublime
Flung before him mountains with invisible peaks to climb

Sympathetic were the gods in their mercy
In forever withholding the knowledge
Alas there were no princesses to rescue
And no more fire breathing dragons

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Aug. 8, 2018
Carsyn Smith Mar 2014
I was a princess.
Long before the burden of knowledge --
before the reality of life plunged itself deep into me.
Tea parties and *****,
Gowns and pretty jewels,
Braids and long lashes,
We were the rulers of the kingdom.
Walls constructed of plastic kept us safe,
security from the barbarians that lurked outside.
A magic mirror that warped and bent from age,
from magic, to show your future,
which was often a short fat lady.
Thrones that swung back and forth,
so that her majesty does not bore herself.
We guarded our kingdom from the evil outside...
but we forgot to check within our walls.

At some age, we stopped guarding the plastic kingdom.
We stopped looking for the monsters outside --
realizing they were lurking inside of us...
whispering dark things.
Now Aurora is sleeping off a hangover --
that beautiful face streaked with wet mascara
maybe when she wakes up, everything will be better?
Ella is hiding from loan sharks,
wishing for a way out of the slums,
hoping a rich man will sweep her off her feet.
Ariel is running away from home
changing her identity for her new boyfriend,
desperate that no one will come between them.
Snow is sleeping with several men --
mommy issues ran her out of town,
now she's the walking herself to the abortion clinic.
Princesses we were.
Princesses we are.
Princesses we will be.
princesses made of freckles, wild nettles, vitamin C
strawberry-preserve smiles, backdoor-screen
dreams, pockets full of pencils and pink jellybean
lip gloss, wearing summer and skinned knees
these types of princesses don’t practice their lives
in stone-and-mortar towers. they take dives
into lake-blue unknowns, sunflower skies,
break their falls on vanilla sunrises.
these types of princesses only build their
castles made of tarpaulin and filled
with oak-tree pillars and moons that tilt
into the soft iridescence of rose-gold winters.
these types of princesses conquer backyards.
these types of princesses catch falling stars.
The Dreamer Teen Aug 2013
It's been nine years now. Nine years since the angels took you away. Nine years since I stood at the home, looking at your peaceful face; eyes closed, a ghost of a smile gracing your lips. It doesn't seem that long. It seems like yesterday you were calling me your little princess; I'm still that little girl at heart. The one who believed she would grow up to be a beautiful elegant contessa. I don't have many memories of the times we shared as I was only young when you passed. In fact, sometimes I struggle to picture your gorgeous, smiling face telling me stories of your past of advice for when I grew into an elegant older woman just like you were then.

I was only 6... 6 years old and I had to go through the pain and heartache of having my nan cruelly taken away from me. I'll be 16 next year. I'll be having my prom next year. I will be leaving year 11, getting my GCSE results and starting A-levels next year. So much has happened in these 9 short, short years. There is so much more to come and you won't be here to share it with me. My graduation from university, my first career move, my marriage, my children... Your great-grandchildren. You won't be here for the good times, the bad...The happy and the sad...

There are certain qualities about you that I will always remember... Being made banana sandwiches every time we went round to your house! Having a Sunday roast with you and Granddad every single week! Your 60th birthday (I knocked Zack down and felt so chuffed!) The last birthday you ever spent with me... You made my birthday cake that year... If I remember correctly, it was a princess castle with all the Disney princesses stood around it! You told me I deserved a cake because I was a beautiful princess also.

I know you will be looking down on me and the family just to make sure we are alright! I just hope it's a smile on your face and not a frown! I hope I have made you proud nan... I really do. I hope you Rest In Peace nan and I will never forget you. Forever in our hearts and minds. 15/06/2004... We love you nan and always will. <3
s Oct 2016
We used to swing under the big willow tree
We lived 3 doors down from each other
We were princesses who fought dragons
We could save the kingdom and find our prince by lunch time
Our moms laughed and talked about how cute we were
Four years old was a cute age

Fast forward a bit
We went into elementary school innocent and young
Boys had cooties
Girls had cooties
Kickball always ended with someone getting hit in the face
We would always sit out field and pick grass and shape it into a little birds nest
Life was good
Until your parents started fighting and I mean really fighting.
It scared me and I would have to go home
I would make you come with me
three doors down
Our moms didn’t laugh anymore
By Christmas break your parents were broken up and divorced
Eight years old was a confusing age

Junior high was mean.
Girls would rip you to shreds and then hang pieces of you on everyone’s lockers
Boys just wanted to make out
A whirlwind of uncontrolled hormones
We were the quiet ones
Always flew under the radar
Just trying to make it out alive
We found a little spot to eat lunch under the stairs where no one would go
We giggled and talked about boys who didn’t even know that we existed
I remember crying in the bathroom with you because people were brutal and we weren’t good enough
Our moms worried about us and how distant we were becoming
Thirteen years old was a sad age

Highschool is another story
You were put in the hospital for a month
I was left at school alone
I had to find more friends
I found most of them were fake
So I ate my lunch in a bathroom stall
Reading all the swear words that were carved in the wall
You were really sick and we grew apart
We were always close
We will always love each other
You tried to save me from myself
But I didn’t let you
Seventeen was an important age

Now we are at different colleges
I tried to **** myself while you were getting an A on your anatomy test
It’s sad
We don’t swing under the big willow tree or fight dragons anymore
Our moms hardly talk
You are a success
and I am a failure
We don’t really mesh
I miss you every day
I’m sorry I can’t be good enough for you
We were princesses who lived three doors down, we saved the kingdom.
I love you
I’m sorry this has faded
Just like everything else
Nineteen years old is a dying age.
Really just a story
pixels Feb 2013
my sheets are a noose
every night i swing
swing my life away

my pillow is an ocean
every night i drown
in my own tears and hopes

the pills
the people
the harsh sunlight

during the day
i am protected
i can smile without worry

the Monster is asleep

pretty pills protect princesses

but my terror grows
as the sun sinks low
the sky bright red
like the blood the Monster sheds

i wait until morning
before my eyes close

in my tears i drown
in my dreams i die

screams wake me
oh, those are mine
i'm sorry
didn't mean to wake you
no, i'm fine
just a nightmare

just a nightmare

*The Monster eats pretty princesses when they close their eyes.
Nightmares are horrible, especially when you're the starring victim and villian.
The broncos won And I'm still at a dead end job
Didn't even watch the game, I was too busy
washing trash cans.
Heard about it through some magic rectangle.
The kids call "social media"

about all the different things
Lady Gaga looked like when
she sang the national anthem.
Heatmiser,
pizza rolls,
Dolly Parton
Because one time Dolly Parton wore a red suit, Which I thought was kind of a stretch.
I saw a commercial saying that more than
400,000 babies are born 9 months after the super bowl.
You know what else is right around that time in February?
Valentine's day
I don't think I've ever been less ****
than during the super bowl.
Nobody looks at their man
Half covered in Beer and nacho grease stains
And goes "oh baby,
that buffalo sauce gets me so wet"
"I just wanna grab a fist full of your hair
bend you over these pizza boxes an~"
"No"
"No"
"N~I mean, I'd be into it"
"No"

My girlfriend is in Florida working for Disney right now.
They have her doing laundry in a musty basement with
middle aged Mexican woman.
It's apparently awful.
"Ruins the magic" she says.
Seeing cinderella scurrying around half naked
doing her make up
Wig cap and undergarments.
Snow white with her nose up
asking for kombucha
Won't even make eye contact with the laundry vets
Let alone my intern girlfriend.
Who says these princesses
would sooner **** a man covered in nacho grease.
Then show her any respect.

I asked how the magic wasn't ruined before that.
After watching the play hairspray
when they yell
"CUT! "
and the actors go back to their miserable lives, 
I figured it out pretty young.
This middle class manifesto
Where making a livable wage is our life term goal.
But she is the faithful type.
Loves her a good miracle.

Like when she found out she was pregnant.
Was
She had already lost him.
Or her
I was over 3,000 miles away
With another man
she was drinking herself to sleep
Praying to some porcelain god for me to stop
I'm sure the morning sickness didn't help
Her depression
Or hangovers.
Or the will to tell me, The man already greiving over one lost daughter
we had lost another.
Before we even knew she was there.
I only tell her I love her.

She says she needs me around
because I’m a taurus.
I have no idea what she means by that.
But I love hearing stories about mexican woman yelling in spanish at their iphone screens
half naked princesses doing their makeup in hair nets.
And her still believing in magic.
She gives me something to dream about
while I wash these trash cans.

Like watching hairspray together
Her bending me over some chicken wings.
Our little Princess.
Hello there to the greatest girl
Everything about you sends my mind for a whirl
I bet you weren’t expecting that rhyme
I hope it won’t be considered a crime (excellent vocab)

Well I hope you enjoy every poem I write for you
bringing you great joy and happiness is what i strive to do
I believe the girl that is the best of the best
deserved to be treated like a princess

Jillian, you are my loving princess, so beautiful and kind
you are better than all them disney princesses combined
It would be as if we were on a magic carpet ride,
I will always want you by my side

Now wouldn’t it be pretty cute
If i just keep making these lines
with the disney princesses as the root?
I think it would be, so lets

As the prince was so determined to find
the beautiful girl that had left her shoe
As am i equally determined
to bring joy to the equivalently beautiful that is you

As the girl that swam like a fish under the sea
sacrificed so much so she could be with her love
As I am just as prepared to make sacrifices
for it to always be you and me

As the love that a man and a woman had was forbidden
yet they did not listen to what others said
As will i love you
No matter what anyone else says

As the beautiful girl and the beast of a man,
did not care about appearance and became together
For she took the time to get to know how great he truly was,
As you did with me.
This i will thank and treasure forever.

As the girl with the flowing blonde hair
and the thief that at first didn’t care,
came together to make an adorable couple,
Well, honestly I just wanted to compare her hair to your hair, they are both FABULOUUUUUUS

So you see Jillian,
I think the world of you.
I know i didn’t get sleeping beauty or snow white,
I just don’t believe you’d be put to sleep or poisoned with fruit.
Leah Rae Apr 2015
This poem is for the *******.
The ice princesses.

Solid and frozen.
Hearts carved from arctic stone.
Jaw lines so sharp they could *cut
you.
Girls so bitter, *they bite.


Leave your mouth aching.

This is for the evil stepsisters,
The Ursulas,
The Queens of Broken Hearts -

I’ll tell you.
They are deadly beautiful.

They are the bossy, and the terribly too honest.
Mouths on fire,
jaws snapping,
man eaters,
sirens of the sea,
they will swallow you whole.

When the boys ask -
Tell them, no, I don’t need saving.

**** being a princess.
Be the dragon.

Be fire breathing, and pmsing.
Be angry, girl.

Cause you got **** to be angry about.

Every cat call –
Every glass ceiling you will shatter with your bare hands –
Every time you say the word no and mean it –
Every time they make you feel like you anything less than powerful.

You tell them –
You are eternal.

That you carry a generation in your belly -
That it all begins and ends here, inside you.

That you can bleed for seven days straight and come back with teeth sharpened for war.

Remind them that that when something is taken from you, you will do everything you can to get it back.

You will destroy what destroys you.
Eating fire and spitting brimstone.
And never, ever saying sorry.

They will call you crazy.
They will call you over emotional.
They will call you loud mouth.

They will ask for your smile, pretty girl.
Give it to them with poison ivy lips and a razor blade between your teeth.

What no body knew was that Ursula was King Triton’s sister.
A perfect storm.
Banished from the palace -
When a loud, powerful woman gets out of hand, we don’t call it leadership.
We call her dog.
*****.
Bossy.
Fangs out and snarling, we don’t battle, we cat fight.
**** kitten gone wrong, when she learns to leave scars.

A dog, no not a dog, a wolf in heat.
Domestication is a ***** word.

***** is to know your worth, and take it.

To carry it in your esophagus.
A war cry.
Feeding your enemies to your children, and coming back starving for seconds.

Doing anything to stay alive.

Because you were raised by a mother who fed you fear for supper.
Packed your backpack with mace, and brass knuckles.
She told you to turn your body into a weapon.
She knew there would be men who would try to cover your mouth.
So she taught you to bite.

This is how you protect yourself.
A mouth full of *****, and a bark to match.
“Beware of dog” sign around your throat.

This is how you keep them away.
This is how you warn them.

Because the villain was not always the villain.

She was made that way.
You were made this way.

You’ve got brands still healing, still smoking, skin still searing.
You’ve got a trauma written in your blood.
You’ve got a ribcage holding onto your heart too tightly.

You are chasing down a revenge so sweet it could rot your teeth.
A heart attack romance asleep in your chest.

You will come back home limping after this war.

And you will tell all the other girls -

It ain’t all about the love story.
**It’s about the “being in love with yourself” story.
This is originally a slam poem, I am open to all feedback :)
s Aug 2018
Hi there.
Sometimes it hurts to think.
I'm driving around in my hometown
I saw this old park that me and my friends would run and laugh and play at all the time.
We played cops and robbers
Lava Monster
Freeze tag
We acted like knights in strong armor and princesses with glittery dresses and we all slayed the dragons
Well now here I am staring at this old swing set that no one swings on anymore.
I used to think that I could touch the clouds with my feet if I swung high enough.
There is something so lively about a group of kids laughing and playing on a playground.
There is something so eerie about an old empty playground where no one goes.
That playground used to be so alive.
Now the swing creaks as it sways in the slight breeze.
You can almost hear faint whispers of the kids laughing from years before.
Now all those kids are adults with lives and responsibilities that are much more important than slaying a dragon.
The wood has splinters that get stuck in your fingers.
It is not shiny and fun anymore.
It used to be new
But I have found that everything changes eventually.
I wish people didn't leave so unexpectedly.
Anyways I am just rambling
but next time you see a playground
just try to look away.
it hurts to think too long
Bye.
I am so sad. So many people keep dying
Melissa Koe Nov 2014
The wind blew strongly. Out at sea, the fisherman’s small boat swayed in rhythm with the waves. He stood up and adjusted the sail, in case the wind blew it off. After so many years of earning a living as a fisherman, he has made peace with the sea – he no longer feels sea sick. Oh, but he feels a certain kind of sickness…… a different kind. His eyes filled with tears as he shifted his gaze from his worn out canvas sails to the horizon where the sun is just about to set. The sky above him is slightly orange – but is dulled by the gray of the storm clouds shifting in.

                He thanked the gods for the sky above and the sea below him, albeit the upcoming storm. He has recently lost his daughter, Fatema to the sea. His grief is still fresh, it still cuts deep. He lost his daughter to the tsunami that destroyed the fishing village. He has lost all his belongings – but nothing belonging to him will ever be as valuable as Fatema. Yes, grief makes him sick – and he has a good reason for that. When they found her, her body was trapped between five pieces of driftwood – it was a gruesome sight. How ironic is it? The arms of Neptune have always supported him throughout his life – making sure he earned a living and yet, the same menacing arms betrayed him and took Fatema away.

                For that, he was angry with the gods. How could they take away a life as easily as they gave it? He snapped out of his thoughts and raised the back of his hand to his eyes to wipe away the tears. His musings aren’t going to help. He has to begin sailing to find a shelter from the storm that is rolling in or else he won’t make it through the night. For the past week or so, he has been living in his small boat, making sure his stomach is full by fishing for small fish and crustaceans. He fixed his sail and began to sail in the direction of a small cove he is familiar with which will provide adequate shelter for tonight.

                As he sailed, he started to feel lonely. He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a locket with Fatema’s picture in it. He brought it to his face and gently kissed it, gripping it in his hand. As he sailed nearer the cove, moonlight began to illuminate the prow of his boat. When he is near enough to the shore, he skillfully measured the depth with sight alone, and lowered the anchor to make sure his boat remained in that position till dawn.
                As he descended from his boat, he waded through the water. Both of his arms are full of dried driftwood for him to start a fire tonight. He heard the distant sound of crickets and an owl. He walked toward the beach, heading towards a small cave and entered it. He checked the ground to make sure it was dry before he started a fire using the driftwood. The crackling of fire accompanied by the distant rumbling of thunder brought comfort to his ears. The flames that rose and vanished combined with the smell of the smoke left a silage – a lingering presence that soothed him. They reminded him of how he used to read stories of beasts and princesses alike to Fatema when she was a young girl until she fell asleep in his arms. Those days are long gone now. He stood up and headed back to his boat to set up the fishing nets for his meal later on tonight. He fixed the nets close to the shore before walking back to the cave to the warmth of the fire. He did not know what to do. He was supposed to sail back to the mainland by next week but the storm has been slowing him down. He listened to the rhythm of the waves crashing against his boat and drifted off to sleep……

                He opened his eyes. He did not hear any crackling from the fire nor feel the warmth from it. When he looked down, the fire has been extinguished. The moon was so high and bright now he only needed the fire for warmth. Just as he was about to stand up to fetch more wood from the boat, he heard a sound. Yes, there was a slight drizzle but it wasn’t the sound of rain hitting the sand. It was a soft, melodious voice which was….singing.
“May you sail fair to the far fields of fortune,
with diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet
and may you need never to banish misfortune,
may you find kindness in all that you meet.”

                It was the lullaby he sang to Fatema as a young girl. He began to feel excited and ignored the voice at the back of his head telling him he was insane. He looked out and saw her – Fatema, sitting on a rock. He called out to her and she looked back at him, saying something he has been yearning to hear from her – “Papa.” He was speechless and could not believe his eyes. She donned the black dress they found her in, but she barely had any scratches on her; she did not even look wounded. Instead of walking towards him, she flashed her sweetest smile and started walking towards the beach. She beckoned for him to follow her. He ran towards her, constantly calling out to her but she did not reply. She held out her hand for him to hold, and he did.

                One more step and she will reach the water now. “Fatema, what are you doing?” “Papa, just come along with me.” With those few words…..he felt like he was in a trance. There were so many questions running through the back of his mind but he ignored all of them. Was he hallucinating? He turned to his left as they waded nearer to the sea – the fishing net that he placed near his boat had a small crab in it. The moonlight that shone onto the sea reflected on her beautiful features – her curly, black hair and light brown eyes. With every step he took, he felt more nervous, confused, and excited at the same time.

                The water level is up to their chest now.  On the second day after Fatema died, when he was very much in pain, he made an analogy about grief by comparing it to the nearest thing to him. Grief is like the sea. It drowns you while everyone else is swimming. He felt more familiar towards it….. it did not seem as foreign to him anymore. If so, he is “literally” being consumed by grief as they waded deeper into the sea. He did not mind though – this is the story of a man who desperately wants his daughter back. He did not care if he was hallucinating or if she was a ghost. He does not know where she is taking him, but he wants to follow his daughter to who-knows-where; for to him, that is paradise, be it in the depths of the sea or the height of the skies.

                He can no longer see the moon.
An essay I wrote for English exam.
one hour write-up.
Poetic T Jun 2014
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your
hair, as her golden locks came slithering
down, a secret hidden.

Razor wire underneath, as it wrapped
around. Controlled from above, it cut
and shredded poor Flyn surrounded by
blonde blades, a smile from above.

A look of fear as her hair twisted tighter,
a thousand cuts, tortured by the girl in
the tower.

Never was it to keep love out, because all
that love has been a mirage of beauty,
hidden was her sin. She preferred to unleash
pain and death to those who thought she
was a prisoner within.

The girl in the tower not as fair as the tale
had once said. Hidden from those that she
wishes to do harm, the bushes fed by the
blood and bodies buried in shallow graves
around.

She was beauty that hid a darkness within,
her hair of blonde hiding death within,
nourished by the blood of those lacerated,
with the blades within.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel in a tower so high, to
keep you hidden from the world, for inside
the beauty is a secret, that is locked in this
tower, forever hidden protecting those from
the fairy tale lie.
.
Adam Latham May 2017
Atop the blanched plume of a pampas grass stem,
Overlooking a sea of white daisies
Stretching out to the edge of a wild flower lea
Where the forget-me-not bumblebee lazes,
Is the grandiose house of the butterfly king
Filled with treasures and precious excesses,
With a bright yellow spire built from pollen ball bricks
Home to three rather lovely princesses.

The fairest of all in that field and beyond
Their beauty was famed and fought over
By the slow sliding slug sheiks of blackberry nook
And the ladybird lords camped in clover.
Each one with wide eyes firmly fixed on a prize
That made shy spiders scurry and scutter,
To see those red painted yet delicate wings
Underneath sun kissed skies gently flutter.

Lovesick and besotted with hearts beating fast
Each suitor petitioned for marriage,
To win for themselves a sweet butterfly bride
To parade in a crab apple carriage.
But the majestic monarch alongside his queen,
Both filled with parental devotion,
Wished for their three daughters to choose for themselves
And would not entertain such a notion.
Kenji Nov 2015
Classic princesses, all elegantly beautiful and charming...
All irresistible and disarming...
Like a dandelion, a rose, a tulip and a lilly,
All hold such meaningful characteristics and lovely culture.

Belle, her gorgeous yellow dress and her most adored beast,
A red rose petal drops, the more she falls inlove with him,
A love so true, everlasting and has no clue.

Aurora, beautiful golden hair and lips as pink as a Bonica rosa,
a delightful melodic voice and a heart as pure as gold, this love story will never get old.

Snow White, lips as red as an Ingrid Bergman rosa, skin as luminous as pimpinellifolia rosa, and hair as black as an ebony crow...
Naive yet loving, a spark of faith and unharming.

Jasmine, long ebony hair and beautiful big brown eyes, a magical love story with a thief she goes away with, as the magical carpet flys.
Tanned skin and an exotic Arabian look, she is a stunner, Aladdin is hooked.

Mulan, courageous and simple, strong, but elegant and delightful, brave, determined and insightful...
A love story that is oh so wonderful.

Ariel, pure red locks and soft pale skin, a tail as green as the water world corals, exotic and girly, illuminating and fiery.
She saves her true lover, she is the hero in the aqua story.

Another princess, who is bound to become a queen, deep big brown eyes, tanned brown skin, lips ever so luscious, and skin ever so soft and delicious...
Caring and loving, yet boastful and inappropriate, a love story that has no happy ending, just heartbreak and pain, and feelings of soul drain, a beautiful tragedy, lost, but is still writing her story, she loves with all of her metaphoric diamond heart and touches your soul with her cupid love dart, she touches you so magically, her soft skin is like a baby's.
She is elegantly ****** in her speech, yet thoughtful and innocent...
she just needs a main squeeze...
This princess is me, Kiara.
A soon to be indian queen.
My world
And  those who have yet to find their happily ever after,
Are just going through the tough chapters of their tale.
Inspiried by the classic of The Little Princess
Ayeglasses May 2013
Mayhaps I like being a nerd.
It may sound absurd.
That I reference things too:
Doctor Who,
Portal 2,
Comicon,
In Klingon.

I'm the one who knows the rules to D&D.;
I'm a paladin mother-trucker.
Roll the die and come at me.

I know all the Disney princesses.
I have no shame.
Though, three younger sisters.
So I'm not entirely to blame.
(Mulan is the best by the way, don't even deny it.)

All of the internet references are be mine.
If you don't understand, I'll tell you a second time.
"I don't always flaunt my nerdiness, but when I do, it's a poem."
I'm the kid who has Tron disks and knows how to throw em'.

Use the force and move away from the screen.
My minecraft skills are like you've never seen.
I'll Fus Roh Dah the entire competition.
It'll be like an original Pokemon Card.
In mint condition.

You shall not pass.
Suit up, with all ensued class.
For the nerddom will grow inconceivably fast.
cat marie Sep 2018
i am sick of being on this rollercoaster.
i want off this ride, no
it's not a ride because
rides are fun and happy, but this,
this is not fun nor is it happy.
i'm sick of being thrown around like a ragdoll.
i want to stand on my own, but i can't
because i have been made to depend on you, and
it hurts me every time you find
someone new to toy with.
i just want you to stand close to me
and tell me that i'm important.
tell me that i mean something more to you
than all these other girls do.
say that i'm something special.
say that you love me even when you don't.
tell me that i'm beautiful
even on days where i look less than a hundred percent.
tell me that you've missed me
even though you just saw me an hour ago.
i want a love like the princesses have.
i want you to want me so much that you can't sleep,
because that's what i deal with.
make me feel something other than sick.
make me feel loved and beautiful and wanted.
that's all i ask of you.
Even the princesses got divorced,
They just never showed it.
judy smith Apr 2015
The Pakistan Fashion Design Council in collaboration with Sunsilk presented the fourth and final day of the eighth PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week. Indeed the 8th PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week marked the twelfth fashion week platform initiated by the Pakistan Fashion Design Council [with eight weeks of prêt-à-porter and four of bridal fashion] and was a direct manifestation of the Council’s commitment to sustainability and discipline within the business of fashion and the facilitation of Pakistan’s retail industry. Indeed #PSFW15 endeavoured to define and present trends for 2015, focusing specifically on fashion for the regions’ long hot summer months. Day-4 featured High-Street Fashion shows by the House of Arsalan Iqbal, Erum Khan, Chinyere and Hassan Riaz and designer prêt-à-porter shows by Sana Safinaz, Republic by Omar Farooq, Syeda Amera, Huma & Amir Adnan, Sania Maskatiya and HSY.

Speaking about the PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week platform, Chairperson of the PFDC, Sehyr Saigol said: “With the 12th iteration of our critically acclaimed fashion weeks, the PFDC is always working to streamline our prêt-à-porter platform to make the PSFW experience more beneficial for all stakeholders in terms of show experience, exposure and ultimately, retail value. To that end, each year we look inward to find the best possible formats and categories to benefit the very trade and business of fashion. In this vein, we introduced 3 separate categories for Luxury/Prêt, High Street and Textile at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week, giving each entirely separate show space, times, audience exposure and viewing power. Our High Street fashion brands had been given a standalone show time on two separate days as early evening shows and Textile brands a separate dedicated day for Voile shows on Day 3 of PSFW 2015, a measured step to further highlight Pakistan’s textile prowess and high street fashion strength which are of significant importance to national and international fashion markets. As per past tradition, we continue to work closely with all our emerging designers and mainstream brands to help hone their collections for the runway through mentorship by senior PFDC Council members and with retail support through the PFDC’s own stores and network. We are grateful for the committed support of our sponsors and partners which provides us the stimulus to further enhance our fashion week platforms and put forth the best face of Pakistani fashion on a consistent basis.”

“The Sunsilk girl is an achiever, with an air of enthusiasm and positivity. Great hair can give her the extra dose of confidence so with Sunsilk by her side, she is empowered to take on life. Fashion is very close to this aspirational Pakistani girl making the PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week a highly valued platform for us. We recognize PFDC’s efforts to promote the fashion industry and experienced and upcoming talent alike. Sunsilk has been a part of this fantastic journey for 6 consecutive years and continues to shape aspirations, taking contemporary fashion directly to the homes of consumers and encouraging them to script their own stories of success” said Asanga Ranasinghe, VP Home and Personal Care for Unilever Pakistan.

On the concluding day of #PSFW15, the Chairperson of the PFDC Mrs. Sehyr Saigol also made a special announcement on behalf of the Council and its Board Members, where she shared the Council’s plans to establish Pakistan’s first ever craft based Design District, a multi-purpose specialized facility that would assist in developing and enhancing the arts and crafts industries, which are an integral part of Pakistan’s rich cultural legacy. In addition to being a centre for skill improvement and capacity building, the Design District would also house a first of its kind Textile Museum.

The official spokesperson of the PFDC, Sara Shahid of Sublime by Sara also announced the official dates for the Council’s next fashion week, PFDC L’Oréal Paris Bridal Week 2015 which is scheduled to be held from 15th September to 17th September 2015.

Indeed the success of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week continued to prompt private sector associates to grow in their engagement of the platform to launch new marketing campaigns and promotional activities. To this end, the PFDC’s evolving partnership with Sunsilk grew exponentially this year whereby in addition to their title patronage; Sunsilk also took over the coveted PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week red carpet and the Green Room/Backstage, as sponsors. This extension of their support is indeed a manifestation of the brand’s belief in and commitment to the platform. Also in continuation of their support for the platform, Fed Ex – GSP Pakistan Gerry’s International returned to PSFW as the official logistics partner, offering the PFDC a special arrangement for international designer consignments.

PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was styled by the creative teams at Nabila’s and NGENTS. Light design, set design, sound engineering, video packaging, choreography and show production from concept to construction was by HSY Events, front stage management by Maheen Kardar Ali, backstage management by Product 021, Sara Shahid of Sublime by Sara as the official spokesperson for the PFDC, logistics and operations by Eleventh Experience and photography by Faisal Farooqui and the team at Dragonfly, Hum TV/Hum Sitaray as the Official Media Partners, CityFM89 as the Official Radio Partners with all media management by Lotus Client Management & Public Relations.

High-Street Fashion Shows

The House of Arsalan Iqbal

The afternoon High-Street Fashion Shows on the final day of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 were opened by leading fashion brand The House of Arsalan Iqbal, who showcased a collection titled ‘Devolution Chic’. Inspired by street art across the world by various artists, European high-street trends and technique of quilting, Arsalan Iqbal garnered personal portfolios of graffitists from myriad urban cityscapes such as London, New York, Tokyo, Barcelona and Cape Town, juxtaposed with some unique in-house created patterns including those of Pac-man, calligraphic flourishes and aqua and tangerine bands and circlets. Based in chiffon, the ensembles were molded into voluminous structured silhouettes including draped tunics, edgy jumpsuits and wide palazzos dovetailed with off-white and ecru charmeuse silk jackets created with a revolutionary quilting process. Along with menswear pieces, the collection also included in-house footwear and jewellery made in collaboration with pioneering Karachi-based street artist SANKI.

Erum Khan

Designer Erum Khan followed next and made her PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week debut with ‘The Untainted Shine’. The collection took its inspiration from the sparkle of twinkling stars, a walk on pearl dew in the morning and the enchanted glow which is produced when “a magic wand” is waved around the body, making it glow in a pearlescent white and exhibiting a jewel themed lustre on the body. With neat and straight structured cuts, Erum had used fabrics such as organza combined with silk, 3D flowers, patch work and antique katdanna in a collection which was based in a white colour palette. Trends highlighted in the collection were high waist skirts to button up pants and sheer long dresses. Acclaimed Pakistani musician Goher Mumtaz and his wife Anam Ahmed walked the ramp as the designer’s celebrity showstoppers.

Chinyere

Following Erum Khan, fashion brand Chinyere showcased its Spring/Summer 2015 High-Street collection ‘Mizaj-e-Shahana’ at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015. An ode to the era of the Mughal royalty and their imperial aesthetic, the collection comprised of modern silhouettes and traditional embellishments with organza skirts paired with cropped tops, angarkha-peplum tops with embellished cigarette pants, sheer knee-length jackets paired with structured digital printed bustier-jumpsuits, diaphanous wrap-around boot-cuts and embellished boxy sleeves with soft A-line silhouettes. Chinyere also showcased ten menswear pieces comprising of waistcoats, jodhpurs, knee-length sherwanis paired with gossamer sheer kurtas. The colours used had been divided into a collection of distinctive Mughalesque pastels and jewel tones. The pastels included the classic marble ivory-on-ivory, the bold black, saffron, gold and ivory. The colour segments also included metallic gold and grey sections, with accents of bronze and black. The jewel tones included jade, emerald, ruby and sapphire.

Hassan Riaz

The concluding High-Street fashion show of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was presented by Hassan Riaz who showcased his ‘Contained Shadows’ collection. Inspired by the diverse facets of the human soul that explore both the dark and light sides of human nature, taking into account yearnings, desires, and anxieties that make us distinctly human, Hassan had based the collection in summer twill, organza and summer denim in shades of blue and white with a gold accent to reflect upon his inspirations. ‘Contained Shadows’ made use of structured and drifting silhouettes, cage crinolines with corsets and bustiers with distinct trends featuring cropped tops, nautical accents, experiments with transparency and patchworks of metal mixed & matched with flowers.

Designer Showcases

Sana Safinaz

PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015’s evening [rêt shows on the fourth and final day was opened by premier designer label Sana Safinaz. Sana Safinaz’s PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week collection was inspired by monochromatic structured looks with pops of color. The collection was based in luxe fabrics such as kattan, silks, fine silk organza and dutches satin in a colour palette majorly based in black and white with strong vibrant pop infusions.
Key trends being highlighted were the oversized T, constructions-clean lines, simplicity of cuts and effective embellishments.

Republic by Omar Farooq

Following Sana Safinaz, acclaimed menswear brand Republic By Omar Farooqshowcased a collection titled ‘Que Sera, Sera!’ (whatever will be, will be!). Omar Farooq had used a variety of luxe fabrics such as suede, linen, chiffon, cotton, cotton silk and wool silk. A collection for all seasons, the ensembles built upon the label’s signature aesthetics while providing a new take on contemporary menswear. Acclaimed media personality Fawad Khan walked the ramp as the brand’s celebrity showstopper.

Syeda Amera

The third Prêt show of the final day of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was presented by designer Syeda Amera who made her ramp debut with ‘The World of Sea’. Inspired by love for the enchanting underwater, the collection was based in premium quality organza, jersey, nets and silks with delicate cuts and embellishments consisting of beads, sequins and feathers to reflect the collection’s aquatic theme. ‘The World of Sea’ featured a palette of aqua marine, scupa blue, powder pink, grey blue, tequila sunrise yellow, orange and lagoon green with trends that employed skirt layering, frills and ruffles and flared pants.

Huma & Amir Adnan

Following Syeda Amera, Huma & Amir Adnan showcased a joint collection for the first time at a fashion exhibition. Both Huma and Amir feel that as a couple they share their lives and draw synergies and their collection ‘Symphony’ was an epitome of how two people can revolve around the same concept in harmony, while maintaining their individual distinction. Showcasing both menswear and women’s wear at PSFW 2015, Huma and Amir had used a mix of fabrics, textures and embellishments with a complex collection of weaves, prints and embroideries in silk, linen, cotton and microfiber. The color palette included midnight blue, emerald green, wet earth, aubergine, ivory, old paper, turmeric, leaf and magenta. Key trends highlighted in the collection were long shirts, double layered shirts, printed vests and jackets, textured pants, colored shoes for men and layers of multi-textured fabrics, tighter silhouette, vests and jackets for women.

Sania Maskatiya

Designer Sania Maskatiya showcased the penultimate Luxury/Prêt collection of the evening at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015. This S/S ’15, Sania Maskatiya took audiences on a fashion journey to ‘Paristan’ – a place of fairytale whimsy at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week. With a colour palette ranging from the softest shades of daybreak to the deepest hues of nightfall, ‘Paristan’ was a collection of playful, dreamlike prêt ensembles. Featuring luxury fabrics like silk, organza, charmeuse and crepe, the pieces followed the brand’s signature silhouettes, both structured and fluid. Beads and sequins embellished varied hemlines and multiple layering, all set against captivating scenes of mirth and magic. Motifs ranged from the sublime to nonsensical; friendly mice and naughty elves, clocks and teapots, flowering fields and star-filled skies, princesses and ponies.

HSY

Day-4’s finale was presented by acclaimed couturier HSY who showcased a collection titled ‘INK’; a collection inspired by Asia and specifically HSY’s journeys to The Land of the Rising Sun. INK represented the essence of Langkawi, Indonesia, Nagasaki, and Yunnan with natural and indigenous yarns, hand-woven to perfection. The collection featured the traditional dyeing techniques of Shibori from Nagasaki, Batik from Indonesia, and Gara from Sierra Leone infused with mackintosh, saffron, aubergine, eggshell, rosette, indigo and ochre. Created with the scorching sub continental summer in mind, INK channelled versatile hemlines to suit a diversity of younger, older, working men, women and homemakers alike.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane
Reading tales about
Damsels in distress
Oh will I ever find my princess
Or will I just give in and believe
That there’s no happiness for me
In this land, in this world, on this earth
No it can’t be true

[Chorus]
There’s no princesses in the world
They’re all trapped in books
Or inside my head
Oh why wasn’t I told
Now all my fantasies, all my hopes and dreams
Are dead

Let’s all dance around badly
Run around madly
Til we find what we’re hoping to find

But all my fairy tale
Fantasies
Are dead to me
Specifically because

[Chorus]

Don’t know where to go
Cause no one’s here with me at all
But I don’t wanna slip
I don’t wanna slide
I don’t wanna fall
I just want to hide

I don’t wanna slip
I don’t wanna break
I don’t wanna fall in love again
Be-cause

[Chorus]

So stop lying to me
I know what I see
And what I see is this

There’s no princesses in the world
No there’s no princesses
Nor knights or ladies fair
So I don’t care
Because I know that you don’t exist

No there’s no princesses
So don’t try to tell me there is
Cause if I know one thing
It’s this

There’s no hope or dreams
Just sadness it seems
That’s how it looks to be
So please don’t read out my story
Because I know how it ends
And there’s no happy ending for me…
Margaryta May 2014
To girls who dream of being fairy princesses: turn your
balconies into paradise greenhouses, and every
night sing each of the Thumbelinas

to sleep. Frost's flowers crowd beneath my fingers, the
young moon peaking in. I dare not invite you again -
your mind exploded into a nebula last time you saw
so many lights. My tiny Thumbelinas have gotten
married, with Thumbelinas of their won. I kiss
their frostbitten flowers awake. I promised. Blue
fingertips have become a norm, a childhood
reminder of a wish for blue blood. It thaws

outside. Wee Thumbelinas weep. The ferns
unfurl. My lullabies make plants awaken, not from the
beauty, but of dying loyalty.
Poetic T Jul 2014
She was a creature of the sea
Half woman,
Half fish,
She wanted more to see, Than the fish of the deep,
She had seen the ships that sailed on by
Those that had sunken to the depths,
Tasted sailors hearts
As they sunk to the deep.
She had a Taste for those up above
But her father forbid it,
As she had tasted human flesh
She had been seen stripping it from the bone,
For the ships that sank
Where her doing to the depths they fell.
She enjoyed them warm,
Hearts,
Eyes,
Tongues,
Which she ripped out
With there drowning screams,
Then the let overs she feed to her
Friends of the deep.
She asked the witch, who knew her evil heart,
She said you have the hunger
I will help this once, a spell cast.
Black eels magic,
Eye of man,
Merman's gills,
Black death oil spilt,
What was once fish, make woman complete,
She woke upon a shore
A prince came upon, His heart she heard,
Then did awake, what is your name
She went to talk, but no voice did speak,
The witch had tricked her,
Curses spoke with no voice to speak.
She was taken to a castle, fed and dressed
Her clothes showed her womanly figure
Her ******* turned many a mans head,
For those that insulted,
There corpse thrown in to the deep,
But with one thing missing,
A hole where a heart did once beat.
She was of too ways she fell in love,
But the heart that beat smelled divine
hunger,
craving,
Hearts beat,
A kiss would seal his fate, but the witch
Had taken the voice of the siren of the deep,
She used her womanly ways
There was more than one way to hook a man
With out speech.
So she did what she did and he was hooked
At sea they were to wed
Not one kiss had pasted there lips
But the day had come dressed in white
This sinful woman of the deep,
Vows were said
Man to woman,
Woman to man,
In life and death you are no both wed,
The kiss tasted sweet, she could taste it
She felt the heart beat against her *****
And to the bedroom they did retreat,
Lust and passion a new experience
To make love in water was wet
To be dry and wet beneath Satin sheets
He took her deep, she was in two hearts
As they came together screams heard
No worries to those outside
There vows were sown or at least you think
For the moment of ecstasy as both did explode
Under the sheets
She took his heart and devoured it whole
The look of fear left frozen on his face.
The ship did scream all through the night
As one after another, beats did stop there beat.
She went to the hull punched through with ease
Sea water filled as it sank to the deep,
Others finished what was started
But Ariel was holding her love in her arms
A tear on cheek, but not of love
Because royalty tasted better than any other
Stripped to the bone
His skeletal form lost to the deep.
She was now back in true form,
She was a princess a hunter of the deep
One last heart she did taste
Corrupt as hers
The witch had betrayed,
Now her essence is
Devoured,
Consumed,
Her power now Ariels
Beware the princess of the deep.
pia Dec 2014
Evil queens are just the princesses that haven't been saved
At the spot people still glance as they pass, see it empty and give a sigh
You can still hear his cheerful whistling as you go by,
Now the corner where the strange man lived is dull and clear
The spot where he lived, the man from everywhere but here.

The strange man talked of places never seen
He talked of places no one had ever been,
He talked of beautiful princesses, kings and knights
He talked of fierce battles and winning fights,

People who were from out of town thought he was just a little queer
But the local people knew he was the man from everywhere but here.

He talked of Trolls and Giants as tall as the eye could see
He talked of maidens and fair ladies as beautiful as can be,
He talked of conquering fiery dragons without a scrape
He talked of guarded dungeons where he’d always escape.

All the people from far off would say “he’s full of beer”
But all the locals knew he was the man from everywhere but here.

He talked of tall trees and mountains oh so high
He talked of big castles that would scrape the sky,
He talked of great far off enchanted lands
He talked of places where good and evil always held hands.

People ask him if he was ever afraid to die
He’d take his finger and point to the sky,
With the same old sparkle in his eye,
He’d say the day that star up there is gone
That is the day that I will move on.

The people from out of town thought the man was just a little queer
But the locals knew he was the man from everywhere but here.

His cheerful whistling would brighten anyone’s day
His enchanting whistling would make the rain go away,
He’d sit in the same spot all day and talk to the young and the old
He talks to the nicest, the meanest and even the bold.

The people from far off would say “he’s full of beer”
But the locals knew he was the man from everywhere but here.

That winter the clouds rolled in and it snowed for quite a while
But no matter how cold the strange man always wore a smile,
He became so pale he was as white as a ghost
But no matter how cold he still had time to boast.

Boast about all that he had seen and done
Boast about all the pretty ladies he had won,
He’d tell you still about all the people he’d met
He’d tell you about all the sly traps he’d set.

The people from out of town thought he was just a little queer
But all the locals knew he was the man from everywhere but here.

The winter wore on and so did the snow
But the strange man never looked low,
That night the clouds rolled away
To reveal that the stars had gone away.

The next day the man had vanished out of sight
All that was left was his blanket and pipe,
The man never came back after that day
But his cheerful whistling will never go away.

At the spot people still glance as they pass, see it empty and give a sigh
You can still hear his cheerful whistling as you go by.
Now the corner where the strange man lived is dull and clear
The spot where he lived, the man from everywhere but here.
© 2016 Christine Mulvihill
Francie Lynch Dec 2015
A lost castle
In Galway called Lynch's,
Long lost
Its princesses and princes;
The blood took its chances
On foreign Romances,
Now Lynches
Spread over the globe.
Doesn't follow true limerick style, but somehow it works.
Sidebar: Che Guevera's last name was Lynch. I believe his mother or grandmother was from Galway, and he went by Lynch til he became Che.
With this smug grin across my face,
I sit NEXT to the Breakfast of Champions

The Black Tie Affair occurring above my crown,
A cacophony of sounds occurring near me,
Providing I sound I love, but a sound I’ve yet to be seasoned enough to mimic
And the veterans that sit at the table,
Look down upon us,
Happily supporting us, supporting me,
With their “Good job, son,” and their
“Here’s looking at you, kid”  
But The ruckus of their laughs and cheers preventing me from hearing them
Assuring we princes and princesses have a chance at true royalty,
And the warm light emits from above their table
Unable for me to see, backlights them,
So that the shadows deter me from discerning the support on their faces,
.

I Feast on a synthetic chocolate cake,
Straight out of the Easy Bake Oven,
While the princes and princesses amongst which I sit
Eat their convenient store cookies whilst looking towards me, and admire.

I drink my Citrus punch out of a glass,
But my royal peers are degraded to quenching their thirst out of a cardboard box,
While the princes and princesses amongst which I sit,
Drink their grape juice whilst looking towards me, and admire.

And foolishly they do,
Because only my throne is high enough,
To see the meals we could be dining on,
The elegant and prestigious silverware we could admire,

And only my throne is high enough,
To realize how low we truly all sit.
A C May 2013
Make-ups
Break-ups
Dates
Make up
Limos
Hair
Hair Spray
Tuxedo
Dancing
Crowns
Gowns
Kings
Queens
Prince
Princesses
­Fun
PARTAAAYYYY!!!!!!!
Samantha Nguyen Jul 2018
when we are kissing
          (i’m pressed against your chest
          your arms around me).
i spin. not with confusion but with joy.
like a dancer spinning along with music.
you’re the music that winds me.
can you make me your princess.
          (love me, satisfy me).
i can be a beautiful girl
in a cute dress that you’ll run you hands over.
i could feel your skin,
          (my hands slip under your shirt)
my prince.
we can’t get in trouble
                    (...no worries…)
since we have the power.
          (“excused.”)
it’ll be okay.
princesses don’t get in trouble.
          (it’ll all change once i’m queen
          and you’re king).
i’m only queen so you could be my king.
assuage me/ answer me/ gratify me.
kiran goswami Sep 2018
Too young I was,
when I read about them.
Cinderella, Snow White and Belle.
Eyes glimmered, hope shimmered.
Young as I was,
So even I wanted to be like them.
Like Jasmine, who declared she was not a prize to be won.
Like Belle, who hated the misogyny that encircled her.
Like Merida, who challenged gender norms.
Like Tiana, who followed her passion.
So even I wanted to be like them.
Because they were the ones who showed me what I wanted to be.
But then I grew up,
I guess I grew up too much.
I heard questions and false accusations,
I saw them point fingers.
Point fingers at my idols.
They said,
'Princesses do not exist,
And even if they do, they're too perfect, too fake.
Too unqualified to be real because they do not make any mistake.
They laugh at the way Aurora let a stranger kiss her.
The mock the way poor Cinderella became a Queen.
They say they are weak.
They are weak? Why?
Because they dream?
Or maybe because they're too kind and too strong?
Too honest and right to be proven wrong?
They say they are weak because they do not fight for themselves.
But the Disney Princesses I've known,
do not need armours, wands and guns.
They do not need shields and magic and ammunition.
Oh yes! They might be just our imagination and nothing real.
But somewhere deep inside our hearts, they've given us hope made us all warriors.
So the Disney Princesses are the real warriors I've known.
They are,
the silent warriors.
Warrior Disney princesses hope dream real Cinderella Belle Jasmine Snowwhite
"Be careful who you call a King"**

All the romantic girls want a 'knight in shining armour'
All princesses want some noble king to sweep them off their feet
All the bad girls want a rebel who's mean with lots of green
Well... I'm all three

I want the joker
Who can outwit the knight in a fight with only his words
Who can make the king laugh with accents and gestures so absurd
Who can cause the rebel to cry and fly away like a scared little bird
I want the joker

I'm a poet
I need the joker to take away the sadness in the words I write
I need the joker to willingly fight for me with his own life
I need the joker to stand tall and proud, yet admit when he's not right
I need the joker to love me fully, unbiasedly and with all his might
I'm a poet

Knights are overrated
Kings are old and outdated
Rebels are deathly fated

Jokers are an eternity
Cause laughter can surely never die
Jokers are everything
Cause my heart will surely never cry
s Apr 2017
A little white fluff on a green stem.
The green stem blends with the surrounding grass.
When I wanted my dreams to come true my eight year old breath would blow the white fluff.
The sun would make the flurries sparkle and dance in the summer breeze.
It truly was magical.
I believed in fairies and wizards.
I remember the day my uncle got upset because I blew magic all over his perfectly green lawn.
My uncle informed me that apparently the fluff was a ****
not magic at all.
There is an innocence to not knowing.
The part of me that believed in magic and princesses disappeared.
I guess people have two choices in life
They can see a ****
Or they can see
magic.
This was an assignment for my english class and I really like how it turned out. Try to see the magic in life.
Shadow Dragon Aug 2018
Guys like broken girls
because they are no pillow princesses.
They are raging animals in cages
waiting for any bite
of raw meat they can put their claws in.
Amanda Jul 2013
Disney Princes and Trees

We are just two Disney Princesses
looking for a pair of princes
that can fulfill our wishes
and shower us with kisses

Get to know us and you shall see
that we are also a pair of homegrown hippies
get to know us and you shall see
at night our heads are found in the trees

Life brought and pushed us together
they say after the storm comes flourishing weather
they also say birds of a feather flock together
so when it comes to best friends no one can do better

We are just some Disney Princesses
waiting on our princes
Time pushed us all afar
But before we knew it,
here we all are!
Samantha Jane Jan 2014
10 is the number of years it took for me to see the truth
The truth behind Disney princesses and frog kisses
The second star to the right was pushed to the back of the mind
I did not carry on till morning but to reality.

9 is the number of times per day I thought I was not pretty
That no one could love me because of the marks only I could see
I could not keep up with the Disney princesses
Because I never looked good in any dresses
And then I started to change

8 is the number of times I thought about starvation
To fit the supposed transfiguration I needed to be

7 is the number of presentations it took
For me to feel that I wasn’t ugly

6 is the number of seconds it took for me to forget
That I could get away from the thought of skinny

5 is the number of time I chanted each minute
That I could be more than anyone said

4 is how many months I worked to be me

3 is the number of words that it takes
To gain confidence

2 is the number of hours I could chant those words

1 does not need to be said
Because you are beautiful
Do not forget the wonder you hold
The greatness you can achieve

Do not bend to change to look like the Disney princesses
You will always able to get those frog kisses
If you be yourself
You are beautiful
Judypatooote May 2015
Dress up days
FOR KIDS
I don't mean the times
They dressed up for Church
Or for special holidays
But the times they found
A long dress in their moms closet,
And their moms high heel shoes
Oh and the hats they found
In a hat box in the closet.
Please mom, please....
They were in seventh Heaven...
And the special box
In a best friends basement,
Filled with formals
And a box of high heels.
That insured them a great
Play day...
I grew up in
Dress up days
My girls grew up in
Dress up days
But this day and age
It seems there are
Dress up days
Filled with Princesses
Bought at Target
Or on Amazon.
Stealing the creative ability of a child.
They are expensive, beautiful
And they sparkle
I'm sure the little girls
Probably get more excited
Over Princess dresses
That sparkle
Then the ones that hang
Over their shoulders
And drag on the ground.
Either way, they can still
Have fun while singing
"I'm so fancy"

By Judy
dress up days that I remember

— The End —