#I wrote a poem

[imagine-dragonlords]

Merlin's Lament (by @imagine-dragonlords)

Ever round Avalon’s misted isle, A stranger walks a sorrowed mile. In silent grief, he mourns and sighs, For a memory that never dies. His spells now falter, lost in air, No charm to ease the deep despair. For what is magic, wild and grand, Without the touch of Arthur’s hand? And so, he stands where Courage fell, A silent, ageless sentinel, Whispering words he left unsaid, To a king who sleeps among the dead. For a fleeting moment, years unfold, Rusted ruins turn to gold: He sees that sword once cased in stone, The hand that held it, turned to bone. Yet, in his mind, the grip holds firm, Untethered from the passing term, A bond as steadfast as his will, Unyielding, constant, ever still. So, there he waits, a lonely sage, Trapped within an endless age, Till fate, in mercy, bends the chain, And brings them face to face again.

[i-am-not-a-twinkie]

Child of the sun

Who was shining and bright

and child of the moon

Who lived by his light

The sun who shone for all to see

And was deemed a radiant bloom

Who only saw his brilliant light

Reflected in the eyes of the moon

The moon with power other's feared

As strong as the will of the sea

Brought to his knees by the warmth of the sun

By his side was where he longed to be

People said the moon was cold

With no light of his own

The sun saw only beauty

In his soft and eerie glow

People feared the sun would burn

Or his light would blind them

The moon found joy in his bite

And vowed to stand behind him

Their endless dance through the sky

Was plain for all to see

The beauty and grace of a love

That was never meant to be

And yet in the rare twilight

The time they shared together

On mingling breath hushed whispers said

A promise made, to be forever

But the day came the sun shone too bright

And was snuffed out too soon

And without the sun's radiant light

The moon was gone too

[parsleysparlor]

Lester is a lesser man

The power of a god high in demand

Once so cool and macho

Shoot- I dropped my nacho

[cosmic-blogs]

HOME SHAPED HEART

I am making a home,

Within myself.

And it is tough.

As I grow older

And winters become rough.

I worry if the foundation,

Is strong enough 

To hold up

All versions of 

me, from all pasts 

If my walls should  be 

stark and high.

Or have 

More windows

To look at the stars

The night casts.

If i will be able to

Withstand impending rain.

Now that I know,

Joy is a momentary flash flood,

Upon a barren desert of pain.

I acknowledge the worry

Hold it close

And tell it to rest.

I want my home

Within me

To be a sanctuary.

A place to rest

When I return

From adventures of life.

I want to walk from room to room

And in the vaults of my heart

With a song upon my lips

For the beauty 

That I may find.

I want to welcome

Reluctant love,

Enough,

To feel, finally at home.

I need to clear out spaces

For gardens with butterflies.

I want a waterfall of giggles

To wash away all grime.

I want a heart shaped home

With bricks, of gratitude

And a roof, of everything enough.

I will put soft warm lights

Outside the door.

The kind that make,

The lonely feel safe

From harshness of glare.

I will build my home

Inside the vales of gentleness,

Where the breeze,

On a warm summer afternoon 

Will be much needed

Respite for my friends.

I have to be gone for long.

Into the  frightening silent,

wilderness of self.

To pick out pieces of beauty

From dangerous woods.

To gather and to rake.

To draw out a map

And a plan for

My home shaped heart,

To house all my goods.

I have the strength,

I have to remind myself 

As I pave the path back

To myself.

I will make my home

Within myself, 

From silver curtains 

Of full moon nights.

And the quietning that comes

From a dawn about to break in love.

Even if takes all my will and

The  milk of my bones.

It is the hardest thing 

To make,

I know,

Because I have to do it alone.

.

.

.

.

[violet-evers]

Oh my gosh I think I'm

falling in love...

With myself 🔥

[crazycatsiren]

There is a void on my lap.

He is warm, cuddly, and purring.

He has big, round eyes.

He nibbles on my fingers.

I kiss him on his little snoot.

[happydahlia]

real love

What is love?

An age old question.

One with endless answers,

Each variation pertaining to the heart that holds it so tightly.

Some say real love is indestructible,

I find that to be wildly inaccurate.

Love is delicate,

More fragile than an orchids bloom.

We often desert it when it breaks,

Deciding that something so tender can’t possibly be worth our time.

When we do remain at its side we live in fear of repeating our mistakes,

So we run or we rage or we hide.

The voice in your head may say that isn’t real love,

But the voice in mine disagrees.

That love may not last,

Yet it is love all the same.

Love is picking up the shattered pieces.

Wiping the blood from each other’s hands,

When the jagged shards cut too deep.

Drying tears when our words cut deeper.

Love isn’t always easy.

It isn’t merely sunsets with heads resting on shoulders,

Not just painting stories in the night sky while your lungs ache from laughter,

Or only an ever present feeling of warmth and light.

Love is more often brash,

It is a quaking thunder after lightning that jolts you from your sleep,

The final breath of a dying star as it falls from on high.

A brisk weighted sensation in your soul.

Love is all of these things,

Both sharp as knives and feather-soft.

It claws your chest open,

And then mends your cracked ribs with its kiss.

A/n: hiii!! likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated. I love hearing how other people interpret or feel abt my work so if you’d like to share pls feel free to comment or message me :)

<3

[lady-ofliterature]

It goes like this:

Take a step and count to one, we’re about to have some fun

Turn around and count to two, let’s make sure your aim is true

Hold out a hand and count to three, the truth’s about to set you free

Blink three times and count to four, here’s something you can’t ignore

Spin around and count to five, there’s no more chances to survive

Bend your knees and count to six, buried under piles of bricks

Close your eyes and count to seven, when you wake you’ll be in heaven

[loonarmuunar]

The water laps and pulses. Growling, stroking, choking.

Same place same rhyme.

Sickly blues and black eat at the metal, as it has eaten before.

History repeats. Same rhyme.

The ocean feeds, as it was force-fed your oils and skins. The sweat on your back like those back in your sweatshops like the sweat in your blood money. Blood to a shark, you followed to the depths.

Pulsing, stroking, choking.

Air is pulsing and beating, the rhythm in your chest a weak drum. Deus ex machina’s abandoned lover. How many days? How many hours? How many minutes?

Unsinkable, indestructible, immortal.

Choking and choking and choking and waiting.

Waiting

Waiting

The sun is gone

Waiting

Stroking, choking, dying

Repeat.

[niseag-arts]

The Canticle of the Grand Machine

we are the seekers of our knowledge we are the bearers of the true pledge surrounded by the whistling steam cogs within the grand machine We follow thus our fascinations The Omnissiah’s machinations sound the canticle serene cogs within the grand machine

we are protectors of mankind we’re with the will of Mars aligned we’re no guardsman nor marine but cogs within the grand machine

We have build for the empire cities, hives, shrines and spires Watch our iron glint and sheen cogs within the grand machine

We explore the galaxy In name of Humanity Go to places never seen as cogs within the grand machine

The flesh it has been left behind The Omnissiah’s path was signed We are tireless and keen cogs within the grand machine

[lynx-kin]

When you get told to post the poetry you wrote in high-school be like:🧍‍♂️

ANYWAYS. May I present:

Clasped Hands, By Lynx-Kin(me)

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Soft and Warm

Gentle as the Breeze

It Crushes mine in its Grip

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Calloused and Rough

Utterly Humane

It Slaps away Mine when I Reach Back

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Large and Smooth

Patient and Serene

It Yanks away as I Reach for it

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Bright and Excitable

As Brilliant as the Sun

It Burns mine when I Grasp it

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Humble and Scarred

Calm as Still Waters

I Hesitate

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Never Pushing

Never Leaving

Never Hurting

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Soothing the Hurt

Softening the Pain

…There is a Hand Clasped in Mine.

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

Dangerously Yours

Rudolph gave Catherine three things, his heart, his country, his dream. She shot him.

I gave you my time, energy and mind. You left me on read.

[motherarts]

Rocking steady, above the shore,

didn't think I could hold anymore.

He appeared and took a seat beside me,

never thought that he would guide me.

After all, who would trust a liar?

He told me tales about the stars,

he told me that they were a light from the heart.

Now as the ceiling falls I wonder,

was it all a lie? Did I blunder?

My arm aches, my back is sore.

I think I'm going to win this war,

The astronaut doesn't agree.

After all. . .

What is life without me?

[cosmic-blogs]

PINCH OF HAPPINESS 

.

.I have to go and 

get my pinch of happiness.

I do that every day.

It loves to play hide and seek.

It runs amok, untamed 

But

I have mastered the game.

The good thing is ,it never tires

Neither do I.

I know where its favourite hiding

Spots are.

Most of the time.

Especially on gloomy winter days.

On a day like a lonely

Mountain peak.

It hides in the wedge

Of my window.

A drop of condensed steam

Rolling down like a tear

Upon a cheek.

I wipe it off, with all 

My gathered gentleness

And the glass clears,

Like the uplifting fragrance

Of a hundred flowers.

It hides sometimes 

Inside the pages of a book.

And as I search for it

Page after page,

In the mystery 

Of an unsolved crime.

A beautiful story

Unfolds the creases of my mind. 

It waits for me behind the last page.

And when I finish the tome.

It slides out and hugs me tight.

Sometimes it rides on the back 

Of a butterfly.

Polka dotted and purple.

Flitting,

With a need to just be beautiful.

I chase it with giggles 

My fingers stretched out 

In a pinch.

Between my thumb and forefinger 

Is all the space it needs.

Whether it is me turning a page 

Wiping a glass pane.

Or looking to grasp its wings.

The measure of space 

In between my pinch

Is all I need, 

To seek the bigness of happiness 

That likes to hide 

In little things.

..

[rileylastname]

ode to cat: based on a true story

there’s a cat on my lap

he is taking a nap

which means that I’m trapped—

I have places to be.

so I give him a pat

just a brush on his cap,

the most gentle of taps

where he rests on my knee.

not a bop nor a rap,

not a shove nor a slap.

his eyes open a crack

and he looks up at me.

I decide to adapt,

wishing I’d had more tact.

there’s a cat on my lap

and I let that cat sleep.

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

Vicious Spirals

When I was young I thought of who I wanted to be, Over the years I came up with 'Supportive', Accepting of anything, and patient to a Tee, As that's what I needed, But when I expressed any sign of it, my place in their life would be superseded, Though as with everything I've been through it hasn't always been easy to live up to that degree, I got over it as if I wanted things to change it had to start with me, But as I sit here years later I think of all the times that ideal had cracked, Yes, things were going on and even the memories of things prior would leave my nerves wracked, So now I wonder if everything I feel is just an excuse, Yet, I always feel guilty whenever they do affect me so, But even with my apologies and steps to getting better, I can't help but wonder if people were right to cut me loose, If I can't always act that way with others, why should they always be like that with me, Did I always manage to get them at a bad time and I was just too young to know? It's not like I always was isolated, But the times I remember are so rare, that perhaps the time has left me so jaded, Or were the niceties were just a role I wanted to perform, And the moments of weakness, are just cracks to remind that I'm part of the swarm, The thought of it makes my body run cold, But perhaps that's just part of the true mold, But if others don't have this thought process then just could it be, That all the fault just lies with me...?