[[POETRY]]
Just some poems I make. Some of them I'm really proud of and others are well, just meh. :/ But will be posting all my poetry here for November and beyond.
NOV 1
NOV 4
The Treason of the Smile
It echoes scars in the heart to awake.
That infectious grin with teeth so long.
The lips parted and curled
Into the perfect shape of a blade.
The color of pain and ripped flesh
Comes to mind, but it is masked.
Masked as warm love.
It’s lovely, the smile.
It brings me to echo it’s appearance.
Only I shy from parting my lips.
I keep from displaying my teeth.
I cannot help but to be brief in showing,
Because I know too well,
The harm it can cause,
Should the smile linger too long.
The pain, the pain that jabs,
When coupled with the eyes,
Is much to bear.
Once foolishly bought as truth,
Hides the price of a stinging lie.
Soon the smile goes into combat,
And the victor departs,
While the defeated remains,
Bathed in agony,
And protectively disguised as laugher.
Witness, the smile sees through.
It cannot keep a secret
To those who already know,
What wretched, crooked,
Twisted, wicked,
Vile, Beguiling,
Alluring, lecherous
treachery it is capable of.
NOV 5
NOV 7
Clashing Colors
Every year
Sometimes for free
We watch great battles
On T.V.
Two sides,
One victory
Represented colors
Numeral bowls in history
Like bears, like broncos
Like vikings, like giants,
They claw and dash,
Conquer and smash,
All for the little brown almond ball,
To rescue and return it to their home.
Their nests, their dens,
Their lands, their turfs,
Guarded and guided,
Relentless and excited,
To watch that hero charge through,
And win that game, for glory and fame.
NOV 9
Morninglight
The lazy light pours onto my cheek
In the coldness around me, constantly,
around me, this sluggish, tired, weary,
warmth cannot be felt.
Instead it comes with questionable joy
and empty intentions, like an infant,
small and not yet fully grown.
It awakens me from the comfortable
void of sleep. In the time of a fraction
of a thought, I am overcome with calm
dread. A sigh or a moan escapes me
before the waking yawn.
That lazy light. That morning beacon. So
quiet. So aggravating. Not unlike the
light of the moon, but the moonlight is
far more kind.
Leave me be you beam of light,
and wake me again when you mature.
NOV 10
NOV 11
Pilot of the Heart
From the wreck
My pilot crawls
Injured, wounded, weak
Like the vessel that lays in pieces
All around,
On the ground,
All around,
Lost and found.
The rains after the storm,
Come to put out the flames,
To soothe the cuts,
But the cold lingers.
My pilot, cries
My pilot, lies
My pilot tries,
Again,
And again
Despite the pain,
To gather up the wreckage,
And build it back again.
Afraid of perhaps another crash,
Or another failure of instruments,
Full of doubt,
And reluctant to fly,
To get behind the yoke,
To know where to turn,
Unprepared to die.
Without my Pilot,
My pilot cannot make me see,
That I have a heart once more,
And can love and feel,
And soar.
The Field
I’m lost and blind
Mud and smoke in my eyes
While the men, the boys around me die
The sight of them still in my mind.
The scent is damp with blood,
The ringing of the blast echoing
The patters of gunfire ricketing,
Next to my leg comes a dreadful thud.
Help me, I stagger away.
I wipe my eyes and face,
Out of the field I race,
Help me, I must escape the fray.
My legs feel damp. Scratched,
Shrapnel sticks below my knee,
Something heavy there slapping me,
An arm without, an owner somehow, attached.
I fall with a cry,
Down a hill as I bleed.
Help me, Help me! I plead.
I want to go home! Why? Oh Why?!
^^^Click to go to my pond hangout^^^ ^^^ Click to go to my frickin' art shop ^^^
Last edited by Merskelly Metalien; 11-12-2019 at 02:12 AM.
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