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Queen Of Thrace

Submitted by C. Wolff on Tue, 2022-11-01 08:14

The Queen of Thrace,
In gold and lace,
Readied her silver bow,

As she took aim,
To quell her pain,
Of a heart filled with woe,

So in azure blue,
The arrow flew,
And struck her lover's heart,

But no death came,
As love did reign,
From Cupid's arrow's part.

I Am No Prophet

Submitted by Gigi Goggins on Tue, 2022-11-01 08:08

I Am No Prophet
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufock
I am no prophet-and here's no great matter.
I have seen the moment of my
greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat
and snicker.
And in short i was afraid.

The Glose Poem
I see the world around me spin
On its axis,
Like I see the wind
Blowing leaves that
Rustle softly.
I am no prophet- and here's no great matter.

When I wake up in the morning

Submitted by Twizzle48 on Tue, 2022-11-01 07:36

WHEN I WAKE UP IN THE MORNING

When I wake up in the morning
My brain is like thick porridge
Unconvinced that I actually slept
And I don’t recall dreaming either
Holding on, I stumble out of bed
Wetting my lips, clearing my throat
A mug of coffee, not much to eat
It takes me an hour to come alive
The new day dawns for me to face
Yet now I could easily turn around
And fall unconscious once more
They call it sleep but I’m not sure

A fresh start: the cyclone

Submitted by Michael Keens on Tue, 2022-11-01 06:18

I reached out to Hades, cos my friends, they have gone
And it’s better to fester in hell with someone
Than to be so alone, and to be so prone
To life’s problems, they come and then go like a cyclone

After having reached out, Hades declined
He said the cyclones aren’t bad, they are natures signs
They point to a future, they are clearing the way
So, accept the destruction, and live for the day

The Lateness Of The Hour

Submitted by Depressed 1 on Tue, 2022-11-01 01:47

Due to the lateness of the hour

He is passing away like a flower

His beauty is fading away from him

Time is dissecting him limb by limb

His mind is traveling to a distant land

Tangled in insanity, he's not the same man

His eyes are peacefully closing

His body is slowly decomposing

They rob his grave of his bones

In death, they won't leave him alone

I look at him, and I can clearly see

I now know what is to become of me

INNER STORY

Submitted by lovedly on Tue, 2022-11-01 00:35

Let me see
your inner
not inners

I'm past that age
Let me see

Let me see your inner self
the desires
love you share
mostly with me

then others
as you may

Let me see
show me

Samhain

Submitted by Rosewood Apothecary on Mon, 2022-10-31 21:14

Thus passing through the mist
Upon the western sea
The shore of this elusive land
Apparent now to me

Apple and its silver branch
Delivered to my hand
Maiden delicate and fair
My guide in this strange land

Otherworldly joy
everlasting youth
Undying summer pastures
Where every hurt is soothed

But here, now is forever
Seldom few return
Yet when the portals open
The threshold fires burn

Low Battery

Submitted by RAH on Mon, 2022-10-31 17:14

Old photos. A cushion crooked on a chair.
Signs conspire and question.
Smiley faces, 'low battery', AI creeping in.

Which side of the rehearsal am I on?

The playdate principle or the drone's view;
floating above highways and islands,
seeing the plan. Godlike in two dimensions.

'Death is a gift'
Jeffrey Dahmer drinking plasma,
far more horrifying than severed heads.
So insouciant, (sauce, saucy, soupy, loopy).
How does the word influence the thing?

The Story of Black...

Submitted by Geezer on Mon, 2022-10-31 15:16

The new cat walks down the path
purely black and stealthy
he's also a little bit skinny
but otherwise looks healthy

I noticed him just yesterday
walking by my window
I think his human parents moved
but he didn't get to go

This morning, Gopher watches him
from beneath the bush
He sneaks out right behind him
to give him a little push

Startled, he crouches to the ground
not knowing what to do
Gopher is all smelling him
asking, who are you?

The Coffee Shop

Submitted by Mike in Minnesota on Mon, 2022-10-31 14:11

Patrons enter the coffee shop,
Grocery bags in hand.
Go ahead! Pick your poison.
And for your order, patiently stand.

Call it coffee, swill, poison, or whatever,
It doesn’t matter the name.
The taste of strong coffee,
It’s all good, just the same.

The pregnant lady needs a jolt.
And candy for her little baby boy.
The caffeine and sugar will, no doubt,
Bring them both great joy.

The businessmen in the corner
They chug their swill.
Based on their whispered tones,
They are about to make a deal.

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