Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

On the Bed of Hypnos


The notes are ingrained
by the blue petalled flames,
burning them into my bones.
All other colors fade,
suspended in a waking dream.

Here, in the lingering lucidity,
this maddening gnaw of pain
leaks the little whispers,
stealing rhapsody from pleasure.


Tightrope treachery,
a daringly dancing gypsy
spinning about on a narrow wall.

A burning star,

she leaps...

leaving shimmering stardust
in her wake,
balance risked for the
momentum of grace.

A barter between freedom and fate,
perhaps circles of three
will bring it all tumbling
down to the ground.


Ariadne abandonment,
I foam milkweed at the mouth
under the burning moon.

Casting aside
the anguish of this tether,
feeding tinder to an infant rage,
I let its coals singe my soul
while this blazing inferno
carries my fury forward.

I suck the marrow of courage...

Now, I shall deprive the Minotaur of his horns
and roast Theseus' heart upon their tips!


The flavor of innocence on my lips
has become a sorrowing memory.
In the waking moments, the world
slowly becomes unbound before me,
my wandering is done,
the final marks are made.

And the taste of one too many poppies
tingles on my tongue,
as my voice is laid out on a slab of words.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Last few words:
Editing stage: 


I don't know how anyone missed this .It is a well constructed. most beautiful song whose lyrics transport us to a world of ancient wonder. Wonderful use of ekphrasis.

joe [still alive] :)

This was a first vignette for me. I wrote it for a contest on another site. I'm glad you enjoyed the poem, Joe.

It is such a secret place, the land of tears. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

author comment

Got to agree with Joe here, this is special. Regards Roscoe....

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

pedestals again
offerings or offered
ancient old sage writing
from a youthful fire

i remember my madcap
brilliant little lines
and dramatic flourish
come crash across my
lap as i was trying to read
'im julliette!'
so I would take my pretend
dagger and press it to her
'im not romeo..Im romero'
but she didnt know the old
zombie movies...the new
modern horror like Last
House on the Left..
which of course i had to

stand on her pedestal
posing in her easter outfit
bunny nose and fur ears
from the dollar store
'i thought easter bunnies
gave out chocolates not
except them'
smiles handing me the wrapper
of crisp brown paper

u are one witty writer
much much verve
and intricate detailing
of presentation

happy to see your


I'm trying to get back into writing. It's been slow going after some difficulties in my life, but things are looking a bit better now. I'm glad you enjoyed the poem. :-)

It is such a secret place, the land of tears. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

author comment
(c) No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.