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Pascal Janssen Sep 2020
Spacetime warps round her,
Moons colliding, suns implode.
Black hole siren song.
Isaac Spencer Sep 2020
Hallmark stories are awfully boring,
Every story gets me snoring,
'She was misunderstood' and stuff,
'He would never be good enough',

And she finds a new man through luck,
And he's a decent... buck,
But is he worth it?
'Oh, he's so perfect!',

And they are like oil and fire,
They're gunna burn their bed down,
But they get along well, I guess,
And do things they won't confess,

And then suddenly they break up,
And get back together,
Contrived circumstances-
And wedding advances,

But it's never mentioned-
How three years later,
With a baby on her knee,
How lonely marriage can be,

Cause he's got a drinking habit,
And she's scarred to bring it up,
The baby's bruises are rough,
He's just misunderstood and stuff.
Blind Pathos Sep 2020
Untitled because it is not about any one thing. It is of the stuff written about, untamed, undiscovered… un yet. That which is just beyond. Before the hand reaches it, before the eye sees, before the mind pours it into the shape that is comprehensible. It is pure. It is debauched. It is half and complete. It is the blind mice playing a symphony with small instruments in Schrödinger's black box where he suspects a cat to be. It is the mother of “Ah Ha” and the father of “Eureka” that is this tear.

Be neither this nor that
He nor she thin or fat
Be and being not
From any given lot

That grail of poetry
That makes it be
This lightless paint
What tis and taint

Who may choose may
Find who chooses say
It choose me instead
I am and was dead

Be rabbit or sacred star
Do I follow and how far
If I am weary I resume
My fleshy wick consumed

So big… yet so small
So… yet… so it is all
Great be in my being again
Now at least I have been
Arrogance is required to write on a perfectly white piece of paper. Creative acts require the timid mouse to leave his house and gamble his life for more.
Carl m Sep 2020
Oh Lady heart eyes my heartaches of love
My heart bleeds the name of someone I mustn’t love
The moonlight sits on her skin so gently, she is made of stardust
A jewel of many colors no other reaches her beauty
Her simple words sing in my head as the birds do at the crack of dawn
I enjoy her company but I mustn't love another woman.
Another poem, I am anxious.
The danger of
A voice
Soft as heaven
But a figure
Dark as hell
Talon Robinson Aug 2020
Be careful where you look,
For you might peer,
Into the Eyes.
The window to the soul.
The eyes that draw you in,
Might be the same that end you.
Look away
Don't be fooled
Trouble is what follows
For my eyes,
(Yes my eyes).
Sweet enough to
Make your mouth water.
A taste so enticing
Wanting more
Yet, wondering
What a taste is actually like.
From my eyes,
To yours.
What do you see?
Do you see
My eyes,
Mesmerizing you?
Captivating your soul?
Entwining it to mine?
Together maybe for a while,
Maybe for life,
Who knows?
Just beware,
My eyes!
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2020

Scar on regal heart
Her brightness shields her venom
Words she built shall break


New day, new haiku!
This one is for Phaedra, a Cretan Princess and sister of Ariadnê.
Though I know of her, she is one woman of myth I do not like.
After her sister ran off with Theseus, Phaedra herself fell in love with his son, Hippolytus. When he rejected her, she decided to write a letter to Theseus, saying that he had violated her and Hippolytus was killed.

Now the matter of his death varies from myth to myth. In one variant, his father cursed him, using one of Poseidon's curses to do so - i.e. a sea creature dragged him to his watery death. In another variant, his own father ended his own life, and another said that Dionysus sent a bull to do the deed.

To make things worse, Phaedra was his STEP-MOTHER, the second wife to Theseus. *Lyn gaves herself a big facepalm*
Given all this, strangely, she was seen as a tragic character in mythology. Personally, I don’t understand why because I found her to be spiteful [and that honestly hasn’t changed when I read more on WHY she was so ‘tragic’].

In a small variant myth, Hippolytus rejected the Goddess of Love herself to stay faithful to Artemis, for his faith in her was unshakeable. [I still find that to be very admirable as hell.] As expected, Aphrodite was enraged by his ‘snub’ and to punish him, she cursed Phaedra to fall for him. So
I think what makes me dislike her is the whole ‘If I can’t have him, no one can’ attitude. Just because of his willingness to honour a goddess, to stay faithful to her, a woman [or women] sought to effectively destroy him for it! And what better way than with her words, right? Words may be light but they carry so much weight, this applies to us all. Everyone one regardless of gender.

They are the most powerful and dangerous thing in the world in my opinion. Ironically, the name Phaedra is derived from the word ‘phaidros’, meaning "bright" and well, I don’t see much that is bright about her because shes not being painted in a good light. [Pun intended!]

There is a variant myth of Theseus taking Hippolytus’ life after reading Phaedra’s letter and in her grief, she took her own as that is not what she wanted.

I suppose what makes me dislike her is how situations like this happen in day to day life, which is not only sad but also really scary too. Even with the myth of her doing what she did because she was cursed by Aphrodite, to me that is no justification. Words are like actions, they all have consequences. I know we are all human and all, but the lesson I took from this is to mind what I said because it may come back to haunt me. At some point in our lives, we have all said something that we regret. But we live and learn and grow. Especially in this day and age now.

Anyway, thank you all for growing followers, I'm forever humbled and grateful for the support 🙏🌹💜
Here's the link for the growing collection:
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/132853/the-women-of-myth/
Be back tomorrow with another one!
Much love,
Lyn 💜
Dvali Taytem Aug 2020
I found a flying striper
It minded it’s own business
So I asked my mother what it was

She said it was a bee
And that they could be dangerous
But that they made honey
And that some people kept them

I saw in my head a farm
With nets built into cages
To hold all the stripes
And I wondered if I could get
Used to bees
And
In time
I did

Their stingers are sunk
Deep under my skin
8/12/2020, 1:07 AM
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