"thalia" poems
Here's to the writers—
You have the power to paint words
Into beautiful art—
To be able to touch a soul—
To touch one's heart
You can make the stormy sky blue—
Stop the waves from crashing to the shore
You can make all the withered flowers bloom—
Turn winter into summer, a glimpse of gold
You can make someone's dark day colorful—
Gather hope to put in between your words
Make them feel that they are understood—
That they aren't alone in this cruel world
You can mend someone's broken heart—
Put love in between your lines
Let them know that they are enough—
That being hurt is just a part of life
Yes—
We can make a whole new perspective—
We can create a world of our own
And no, we don't speak only for ourselves—
But also for all the lost souls
—Thalia Bautista; Just keep writing
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
Helpful.
Holding Hands.
Chatting over email.
Have a lot of fun.
Always there for each other.
Go getting manicures with each other.
Playing soccer and kickball with my friends.
We got to the movies,mall,and restaurants together.
Bella, Jenna, Darla, Saanvi, Rebecca,
Caitlin, Isabella, Thalia, Laxmi, Sophia.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC
My sweet water nymph
...earlier?!
You wished for me to arrive "earlier"?!
By your side be my life.
I carry your heart through realms of chaos.
Beg my pardon for the lapse in minutes..
Reliving your love can ****
You are thy muse.
Enchanting and mischievous and empowering is your being.
Your aura bleeds ecstasy and grace.
Calliope, Clio, Euterpe, Erato, Melpomene, Polyhymnia, Terpsichore, Thalia, Urania...
Collapsed in a single body.
What a body.
My sweet water nymph. . .
Carrying inspiration in those stems.
We can't help but bow to you.
Give me your ripened fruit of art.
You poor soul.
. . .my sweet water nymph
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC
Euphrosyne: You can just stay here
And if I give you the white strips
You can just lay down
And use the white strips
And by the time they release you
Your teeth will look so good
I mean no offense but
You’d be using you’re time wisely.
They will look so
Much better.
Here, I have two boxes.
Aglaea: I think there’s yoga too
You can really firm up doing that
I really think you should stay and
Take the yoga
I’m serious.
You can also journal
And do color therapy
I know you know your colors
Obviously!
So you should think about
Sharing what you know
With the less
Fortunate
It shows
Gratitude
And I know that you’re Grateful.
Thalia: While you’re here we’ll get you all
New stuff
I know this guy
And he can do it
He’ll redo your whole place
And I bet it could be an editorial
And you need flowers.
We’ve got to get that sorted
Why don’t you do a vision board?
There are
Magazines here right?
You can use them. Well some of them.
Vogue maybe? They do have Vogue right?
And when you’re out we’ll
Deal with the hair and stuff like that.
In the meantime
Find out if there’s a manicurist in here.
You feet are busted.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 1:57 PM UTC
These ides have kept me thus far
Sustained, am I, eternal
By their food of self-sacrifice
The jester’s tasty wine
Imbibing insults wrought by fool’ry
Again, reciting the dirge for pride
But the ides have kept me thus far.
Despite the ru’nation
Hoist! Ye ru’nous hands
My repute in mortification
A fool by their and my demands
I see my shame, long shadow cast
In light of sobriety
Ignominy and truth of me
Divorc’d n’er they be
Still taste of cheap liquors, distilled society
But the ides have kept me thus far.
Full knowledge, have I
The disservice I do
Only time will heal the wound
To shy away, acceptance is
A lovely balm on par
My image in tatters, though brazen I be
The ides have kept me thus far
Let them laugh, for I know they do
Not to me, but within and among
I am your entertainment
The source of all your jeers
My life, a blund’ring show
I am an actor, my blight for years
A part to play, it’s pleasing though
To thrive upon your mocking and time
Comforting knowledge, that
A fixture, am I, your Thalia
The ides have kept me thus far
Erected austerity, enigmatic walls
Fortifications around me
Charged to keep the chaos in
My heart, it truly calls
I am not so noble
As the sun will attest
Know me as the ascetic,
See the shrieking eccentric,
Know me as the philosopher
See my wit pathetic,
Know what is outside is purely for show
See that is internalized, is
So ********* antithetic
Each and every time
I hide my face in shame
My pride and my name, my actions did thus mar
But I will heal, I always do
The ides have kept me thus far
This is my mantra, an empty cadence
A mist to latch on to
With every refrain of wretched debauchery
Each weekend played anew
Though I stay to bear the howl
Of my dissonant, ugly hymn
I listen to the hardened ones
Their failures but a din
I wish to change the thing I am
At least to those who know
I’ve heaved the chance to the icy mar
Onto the cracking floe
I feel the daggers of humiliation
Plucking at each stitch
I’ll just smile as though I like it
For in effect I do
But it’s becoming unbearable
The walls beginning to bow
Imperceptible, if my resolve she lasts
Though this is nothing new
But I’ll just grin and carry on, for
The ides have kept me hitherto.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
Gilderoy Lockhart - The Chamber of Secrets
Leela - Futurama
Laney Penn - Grojband
Flonne - Disgaea
Raquna - Etrian Odyssey
Lilligant - Pokemon
Gwen - Total Drama Island
Dawn - Total Drama Revenge of the Island
Wednesday Addams - Addams Family
Thalia - Magic the Gathering
Isperia - Magic the Gathering
Cloistered Youth - Magic the Gathering
Ellie Nash - Degrassi
Gretchen - Camp Lake Bottom
Nina - Crash Bandicoot
Sunako Nakahara - The Wallflower
Nami - Harvest Moon
Georgia - Harvest Moon
Falkenrath Noble - Magic the Gathering
Marcelline - Adventure Time
Flame Princess - Adventure Time
Dorian Gray - The Portrait of Dorian Gray
Finnick Odair - The Hunger Games Series
Emma - Stoked
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
Dream a dream.
Make paradise twice as nice.
Take away all ills.
Apollo taught muses their crafts.
While playing on his lyre.
The muses danced on laurel leaves.
Paradise on Mount Helicon.
What was purpose of those muses?
I hear your request.
In land of myth from times long gone.
Nine goddesses,
spirits,
to put the world to rights.
With artistry, music, science and literature.
Linked under the heavens.
Forget the evils of the world.
Music, poetry catharsis.
Thalia.
Hysterical lady of comedy it seemed.
Good cheer and plenty sent.
Clio.
Made her history.
Wanted fame 'twas said.
Tried to keep it cheerful.
Along came Melpomene.
Singing loudly while playing around with tragedy.
Urania.
In celestial style,
glances to the heavens.
While Polyhymnia.
Sings and dances.
Making many songs
Sometimes in a silent mime.
The lovely Erato compiled poetic words of love.
Euterpe.
Made lyrics poetical
Brim filled with joy.
Maybe for Polyhymnia to sing
Calliope.
Her beautiful voice is heard.
Nearly a Nightingale.
Maybe singing bird.
Creation of poems based on epics.
Terpsichore
Danced on and on eternally.
While poets pens write on!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 7:30 AM UTC
Tell me not what too well I know
About the bard of Sirmio.
Yes, in Thalia's son
Such stains there are--as when a Grace
Sprinkles another's laughing face
With nectar, and runs on.
1.6k
Minstrel, what have you to do
With this man that, after you,
Sharing not your happy fate,
Sat as England’s Laureate?
Vainly, in these iron days,
Strives the poet in your praise,
Minstrel, by whose singing side
Beauty walked, until you died.
Still, though none should hark again,
Drones the blue-fly in the pane,
Thickly crusts the blackest moss,
Blows the rose its musk across,
Floats the boat that is forgot
None the less to Camelot.
Many a bard’s untimely death
Lends unto his verses breath;
Here’s a song was never sung:
Growing old is dying young.
Minstrel, what is this to you:
That a man you never knew,
When your grave was far and green,
Sat and gossipped with a queen?
Thalia knows how rare a thing
Is it, to grow old and sing;
When a brown and tepid tide
Closes in on every side.
Who shall say if Shelley’s gold
Had withstood it to grow old?
1.5k
Well hello, sweet Muses.
How nice of you to drop by
at four in the morning.
Let me make you some tea.
How are you all today?
Oh, I forgot for a moment
that you are goddesses
and are always
exactly as you should be.
I'm fine except my sleep
has become oddly contrary.
But you all know that and more.
You are the magic that
stirs my dreams until
I give up and get up.
You betray me to nightmares,
insomnia, memories and poems
that could certainly wait
for morning if you so desired.
And where have you all been?
For three years, you've been gone
and I have been left mute.
Such fickle ******* you are,
only bestowing your favors
according to your whims.
But we have all, back to Homer,
known how unfaithful you can be.
Now you've returned and I can't sleep.
You know I'm not so young
as the last time you visited.
I need a little rest occasionally,
but you are working me to death
as if no time at all has passed.
There should be a union for poets.
Of course, I will do your bidding as usual.
Calliope, Clio, Euterpe,
Thalia, Melpomene, Terpsichore,
Polyhymnia and sweet demanding Erato.
It's nice to see you all again,
all so lovely and immortal,
but please remember I am only a man
and a man can only take so much.
So please, try not to show up before 8 AM.
~mce
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
Out beyond the edge of reason,
beyond where my senses can claim
I cannot sleep or wake…
nor dream.
In a state of
nondescript stillness. Bereft of
unnecessary memories.
I am not loved,
I do not love
in ways I can any longer
understand. Stark states of
stalemate.
Melpomene and Thalia
hunched over game pieces
a drunken heart
laments all a sober mind must
reason.
When liquid gold
and golden light
take to loving,
we as humans,
are no match. Either of
these elixirs in their limpidness,
bronzes our throats and
smothers our breath,
consumes our vision
with that last still drift of
sulphur, struck…
My flickering writhe
is a lambent match flame
Leaning in
to kiss a wild bonfire.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
I followed a writer up a tall tree
And every leaf was his poem.
Once at the top I could look out
Over a sprawling poetic landscape –
A resplendent chorus of
Glistening verdant wisdom,
O’ vast quivering sibilance of
Melpomene and Thalia!
And there I remained
Until a long winter wind came
And undressed each tree!
So from my perch,
through gaunt branches,
I could see…
The low-slung place
where each poem fell
I thought, “so many writers,
clothed in so much comedy
and tragedy.”
And down I climbed
and away I walked
Over resting leaves
while red and rust
ran from their veins
Into the rich palette
of my memories
O’ even now
The sweet scent of decay
Reminds me of Spring
when I will climb again.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 6:48 AM UTC
Alexa,
When she walks in a room,
I hear BOOM BOOM BOOM,
Shaking the floor,
No she she's not a florist or even some skanky *****
She's just a kid,
Who's been forbid,
From talking to morbids,
Like Eesha or Thalia or Nicky.
I can guarantee you right now,
You'll never see her walk around with a hickey.
While I should get going,
I have a lawn that needs mowing,
So bye to all of you,
Next time you hear the name Alexa, I'm sure you wont say "who?"
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
I call upon their harmony
They honor me with artistry
The pupils of Apollo's
Lyre resonant inside of me
Calliope adventurous,
Intrepid in her recklessness
Emboldening my will to lead
The unenlightened on this quest
Through Clio's scrolls of history
My oracle clairvoyant
She has graced me with the vision
Of the future sky chatoyant
And a buoyant sea of Euterpe
All floating through the lyricist
That synchronizes all of this
Into a metamorphosis
Evolving as Erato's love
A heart as soft as silk
A dove, tabula rasa thirsting for
The Mother Gaea's milk
To rise from Melpomene
Masks of tragic flaws of Icarus
For I divine the comedies
Thalia simply can't resist
Polyhymnia, Terpsichore
My rarest of expressions
Still reveal themselves in forms
Of spirit guide possessions
When Urania in cosmic bliss
Transports me to the stars
Reborn again to join them
As Mnemosyne's memoirs
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 1:11 AM UTC
the only calliope
i ever really wanted
has already decided
she's through with me
without giving me
a chance to speak.
-
and she's polyhymnia
in the comedy of hell,
raising voice in praise
of anything she respects
and in that she garners
all the power intrinsic.
-
no need for erato
when she's around
to keep my arteries
and thoughts clear
of emotional plaque
and writers' embolisms.
-
she is euterpe on a stage
of all the beautiful words
in all the beautiful languages
that can never be explained,
only known, and loved
and said in blissful ignorance.
-
she's thalia and melpomene,
comedy and tragedy,
laughter in her steps,
and springtime song,
and the ache of departure
evident in her wake.
-
terpischore at play
when the music starts,
involuntary, a reflex;
dancing is like breathing
to she who will break
my heart so many times.
-
she is urania --
she keeps my eyes
on infinity and away
from sights that feel
like shaky index knuckles
on unforgiving pistol triggers.
-
she is clio, keeper
of simple night histories,
because those are what
she lives for, and those are
what i've always mused upon
living for -- with her.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
I followed a writer
up a prodigious tree
Every leaf I brushed,
his poem.
From the crown
I scanned the pastoral
a poetic landscape in repose,
A resplendent chorus of
Glistening verdant wisdom.
O’ vast vibrato of sibilance
slipping the breaths of
Thalia and Melpomene!
Alight by dusk, I lingered.
Comes the long wind of winter
to undress each tree!
So from my aerie,
through gaunt branches,
I could see…
The low-slung place
where each poem fell
I thought, “here so many,
clothed in so much comedy
and tragedy…
recite their odes
of heaven and hell.”
And down I climbed
and away I walked
Over quiescent leaves
while red and russet
ran from their dendritic veins
Moldering into the palette
of dormant memories.
O’ even now
The sweet scent of decay
Reminds me of Spring
when I will climb again.
From the rot of the roost
to the dust below boots,
by the pen of the winter writer
Spring will come again.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 9:28 AM UTC
Her,
She's the one you see,
When you get up to ***
Or to go get some tea,
She's the one you notice,
Just like a lotus,
Except she's from Jamaica,
Nicky probably wishes she was a part of his cejka,
I'm going to cut this short just for today,
I'll make a sequel and you will all yell HOORAY!!!!
If you haven't guessed,
I won't have you search the West,
I'll tell you who it's about,
It's bout a girl named Thalia,
Who is quite a dahlia,
To her bestest friend in the entire world EVA WOOT WOOT!!!!!
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 7:23 PM UTC
Two girls,
With curls,
In ALL their hair,
I bet only them know where.
One has a fetish,
The other one is pettish.
They are perfect,
Only for each other,
All though they might **** each others mothers,
And or Eesha's brothers,
They are quite the lovers.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 5:52 PM UTC
Clio, you are part of me.
Euterpe, you are too.
Thalia, you lift me up
when I am feeling blue.
Melpomene, you are close to me
Terpsichore, you were my youth
Erato, touch me secretly
Polymnia, you are truth.
Ourania, comes to me at night
and my soul she does enthrall .
Calliope, I love you most,
but see you least of all.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC
"What is your greatest fear?" a teacher asked me.
"Darkness," I answered, and almost everyone in the classroom laughed.
"Why are you even afraid of the dark? You're not a kid anymore," one girl said aloud and the teacher told everyone to keep quiet.
I sit as my greatest fear is slowly trying to eat me.
It's not the kind of darkness they think it is. It isn't the darkness that consumes the light that I'm afraid of; it's the one that's in my mind. And they wouldn't know.
I'm afraid whenever that pitch black of nothingness is trying to get in my being. That darkness that makes everything go upside down.
And why should I be afraid?
I'm scared that slowly, by time, I'm getting comfortable with it. I'm afraid that one day, seeing light wouldn't be an option anymore. I'm afraid that one day, darkness will completely consume me.
But it doesn't matter anyway. You already gave your laugh.
---Thalia Bautista; darkness
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 10:24 AM UTC
I like to beautify things. When I write my notes, I'd always put colors in them. I'd always trace the letters to make them look like calligraphy.
I like to beautify things. When I see unorganized thoughts on my notebook, I'd weave them together and sprinkle some new ideas and turn them into poetry.
I like to beautify things. If someone feels bad about something, I'd tell them the things that are beautiful about them. I'd tell them that they are enough. I'd make them smile, until they laugh, because that is beautiful.
I like to beautify things. Even though he makes me sad at night, I'd still look at his pictures and somehow, they make me feel okay. I like to beautify sadness. I find ways to distract the demons. I grasp his photograph and stare at it until I fall asleep.
I like to beautify things — things, people, feelings, emotions. I don't like seeing anyone feel less beautiful. I don't want seeing something less beautiful. Maybe it's because I lack beauty, and seeing others being beautiful somehow fills the gap.
I like to beautify everything — everything but myself.
—Thalia Bautista; Why am I not beautiful?
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 2:36 PM UTC
"Why do we keep on waiting for things that we know are not going to happen?"
"Because we're helpless. We tend to hope, regardless of all the contradictions. We wait because we want it so bad—so bad that we are willing to jump into nothingness than to believe it's non-existent. We choose to take an endless ride than to believe it's all over. We choose to walk on a tight rope not knowing how to balance, than to walk on plain ground but not taking risks.
We keep on waiting for them to love us—when their love for us does not even exist."
—Thalia Bautista
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 12:21 PM UTC
We are creatures of habit, believe this is true.
For we are the sum of the things that we do.
So if I adopt the thousand yard stare,
Who will I be but the mask that I wear?
What would I be but the role that I act?
A remorseless killer, devoid of tact,
For fear that through kindness his weakness will show,
So the spaces between him and others would grow,
As if to match the point of his focus.
His thoughts all bearing an inward locus.
His life desolate, its body cold,
Loving no one, and growing old.
Just as well I could try on a charming smile,
The kind that says, “Sit down, stay a while.”
And as with a fire, others would find it meet,
To huddle around me and draw on my heat.
Assuming that there was some magic within,
Causing my cheeks defy gravity with a grin,
As if to propagate life’s paradox,
Who with ironical grin entropy mocks,
As a river flowing against an eddy,
Removing its basis when conditions are ready.
This in mind, clever Judases would know,
That through my kindness, my weakness would show.
So which should I wear, Thalia, Melpomene,
Exists there a mean between your extremes?
Whichever the case, this much we should trust:
That what we do without urging, speaks most of us.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 6:03 PM UTC
Ma muse, j'ai un tout petit dilemne.
Il est écrit qu'il y a en tout et pour tout neuf muses
Qui ont pour nom par ordre alphabétique
Calliope, Clio, Erato, Euterpe
Melpomène, Polymnie, Terspichore, Thalia et Uranie
Nulle trace d'Aura.
Es-tu vraiment celle que tu prétends être ?
Aimes-tu vraiment le chant de deux voix qui s'alternent ?
Et dans le cas où tu serais bien l'une des neuf
Pourquoi m'as-tu dit que tu étais le huit ?
Si je te pose la question
C'est que j'avais accès à ton site sur muses.com/aura
et j'ai égaré mon mot de passe.
Tu sais, ce mot de passe sécurisé
Qui nous permettait de nous exhiber tranquillement
A l'abri des regards indiscrets.
Je ne me souviens pas s'il y avait douze, quatorze ou vingt caractères.
mais il y en avait plus que huit
Il était fort et aléatoire
Entre majuscules, minuscules, symboles et chiffres
Impossible à craquer
C'était mieux que Fort Knox
Dedans tu avais mis ton âge, ton poids, ta taille, ta pointure
Et les lettres, arbmu et umz
Et un symbole étrange un t avec une virgule souscrite.
J'ai appelé à gauche et à droite les Muses pour retrouver ta trace,
Je t'ai googlisé. En vain.
Es tu vraiment ma Muse ou Furie ?
Par acquit de conscience j 'ai vérifié les noms des Furies
Tisiphone, Mégère et Alecton.
Et j'en reviens à la seule et unique question :
Qui es-tu ? Mon ombre, certes, mais encore ?
J'ai rêvé que tu étais astronaute et moi Martien.
Tu m'avais réduit de la taille d'un minuscule atome
Que tu gardais bien au chaud dans son berceau
Au fond de la planète Utérus.
Et tu m'allaitais d'eau de vie de mirabelle et me berçais
De câlins sucrés. Et je gazouillais
En regardant tes yeux, Aura,
A l'époque rouges jaunes orange bleus
Puis un jour tes yeux sont passé au vert
Et tu m'as sevré sans un mot, sans une parole.
Tu m'as mis hors du miroir
Et tu m'as dit d'aller caresser l'oiseau.
Et depuis j'erre comme un bateau ivre
Mais revenons à nos orphies :
Le mot de passe !!!
Pour simplifier je te propose
Qu'on efface tout ça et qu'on mette à la place
Juste une phrase comme :
Amant alterna camenae (Virg. egl III,59)
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 11:41 AM UTC
*
*Flourishing with laughs
Smiling eyes under her mask
Wear wreath of applause*
*
Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 3:40 AM UTC