First Draft
The Château Of My Love
Yes please enter waltz frolic in the hall of my great château, your beauty and bright mind rivaling its most intricate detail Entwined at the warmth of the foyer, safe, intimate, nesting, taking flight, thriving, and so certain of Love Love Love.. Time passing, a shift in the glow, the embrace, somewhat forceful; You are mine and mine only, I wish for your voice alone! Your voice alone to echo through the halls and corridors, the attium, the inner garden. And in the throne room, you shall dance for my delight, for my eyes only These walls, keeping you safe This bridge, keeping invaders away This dungeon, the heart of the chateau, holding you, holding you, my dear, precious dear, for my delight. Your friends deserve of no such beauty and luxury, for they are unworthy. Your family has other duties, why bother them with visits and other wastes of time? You don't even need to go outside; all is provided in here, in this perfect place, in the château of my love. Yet in his satisfied smile, in his self-centered all importance, a shatter, and the veil lifts for a second;
By YonathanJ - Writer2 months ago in Poets
The Melancholy of Fall Leaves
The melancholy of autumn leaves is palpable everywhere you go—the natural carpet whispers: “I am already here,” revealing its name to those who tread upon it; it sings a song of thousands of walks each year; at every moment as we experience this melancholic autumn, the spirit and its awakening from the deepest recesses of our inner being move higher and deeper each day, yet this does not disrupt the synchronicity with the overwhelming power of everything, which draws from the environment in which we currently live—this depth and intensity of existence can be beautiful, joyful, and exhausting—therefore, thoughts must remain in the transparency of existence, above earthly egos that offer no answers or solutions to the greatest tasks, questions, and struggles of the being in the now just touch the moment make it free and open in everywhere and take your mind above the murky sphere
By Antea Lumina Kala Matylda 2 months ago in Poets
Husk
You swept into my life And stole all my nights That bled into years My greatest of fears Animated within A soulless husk Frankenstein At least Left his monster with a mob Where by the end Even our passion was an act Until you finally Blessedly Evaporated Leaving me alone with A blood-drained heart And a wine-stained bed
By Matthew J. Fromm2 months ago in Poets
Kaleidoscope
Link to the original poem: Description: Kaleidoscope of stars in space It started as a child. A cousin with a tube of plastic, a beam of light (a trick, I thought). After a while, you forget those astral bodies: stars, comets, meteors, suns too far to believe, quasars, constellations, certain strange gravities. All from that first look (I wonder if I stare now to step away from this dull space: home, table, notes in a book). That child stared up from below, and the world grew in a distant place. * Thank you for reading! If you liked this, you can add your Insights, Comment, leave a Heart, Tip, Pledge, or Subscribe. I will appreciate any support you have shown for my work. You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else. Give it a look...
By Kendall Defoe 2 months ago in Poets
Goldfish
He recognizes you when you wake up; it follows you, happily waving from one corner to the next, waiting for your morning “hello” and greeting at breakfast; later, it checks the filter to make sure everything is working, letting you know if something needs fixing;
By Antea Lumina Kala Matylda 2 months ago in Poets
I Wish I Could Fly Into the Sun
Past the clockwork moons and the rusted sands of Mars, Away from the tick-tock of the porch-swing earth, And the cold, indifferent dust of the quiet stars. I’d trade this settling, summer-heavy air, The ticking mantels and the porch-light gleam, For a rocket forged of silver, brass, and glass, To wake at last from this terrestrial dream. Up through the blue, where the high swallows drown, Beyond the thin atmosphere and the edge of the sky, Into the furnace of the great, golden eye, Where shadows perish and the dark must die. To strike the match of that blinding, ancient sphere, To flash like autumn leaves in a sudden, brilliant flame, And leave behind the heavy gravity of years, Without a memory, without a sorrow, without a name. Just a moth drawn upward to the final, brilliant light, When all the winding, earthly days are done. Before the frost can take the dandelion fields, I wish I could fly into the sun.
By Caleb Lahr2 months ago in Poets
