MonarchMonarch7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
a dance in the darkness,
a stab in the light,
wings like fingertips
caught in midflight.
a flash of the sun,
scrotched by the moon
peter out poisons
that misspelled doom.
a knowing whisper,
hide in the mirror
that I'm trapped inside.
Vampire ButterfliesVampire Butterflies7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
a flourescent cloud of orange and black
flits its way through the crack
in the fog and in the night,
where shadows too take flight,
and Death's poison won't take them back.
til sun's rays pierce the mist,
when to shadows scatter, lift;
the cloud disperses in the trees
orange and black to brown and green:
where they feed when day exists.
til extinguished with onset storm,
and chill flood and drown the warm;
dusk devours the last of day
as the light slinks away,
and the living retreat in alarm.
St HalloweenSt Halloween7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
the orange and black flitted away,
a butterfly not meant to stay,
an ideology lost to the breeze,
feeding on poison that drips from the trees.
he smiles to the mirror but it won't smile back;
he lives drenched in shadows of orange and black;
he sleeps through the clam and wakes for the storm;
befriends eccentricity and flees the norm.
the orange for Selene when dusk enshrouds,
and Helios does pierce the clouds.
black for the shadows that arise in the night,
when whispers come to amplify your fright.
Deuce and Penelopea copper tinted coiffure composed her striking adorned mane.Deuce and Penelope3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
paired with a set of azure orbs flexed with gold that struck the same.
amidst the onslaught of plastique laced swans slung to the threshold.
she stood a finish line prize hind sight in wait for his hand to grab hold.
the beguiled escape from the compound paled in promise of payment for the touch would tell.
for this is his be[LoVeD] bella sun, his muse dubbed Penelope, his red letter Scarlet Pimpernel.
a figure for shame in all the talk of symmetry.
and stir of frenzy shape hidden behind her dress.
but as the fancy for pyromancy will invariably entail
you'd find the details most efficient if set to embers along the trail.
of bodies, these countless bodies. failed pharmaceutical products fit for kindling.
bone hints bleached, worn diner employee thin wearing the dystopian grin linked to timeline's dinner bell teether.
of a landscape dressed in a bloated blood color sun, fit like so to match the black ep devoured wea
Waste Land"We think of the key, each in his prisonWaste Land7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.(1)"
He whispered in my ear
And sees the dark waves surging around him,
The sea-birds bathing, spreading their feathers,
Frost and snow falling mingled with hail. (2)
"What do you want," he asks.
To fall in love.
"I cannot do that."
She laughs and asks if this is a sample of heaven,
No end to the horizon and no end to the sky.
She wishes she could walk on the clouds, springing from one to the other.
And if it were possible, would she leave footprints in them?
If it were possible, she would indeed.(3)
This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.(4)
Three young men leave the bar, looking for Death.
Up a crooked path, they find him standing at a tree.
Three young men don't realize they're living in an allegory.(5)
This is your life.
Then must you speak of one who loved not wisely