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Some see the world through rose-colored glasses,
some see it only as bad.
Some see man split into one of three classes,
some see it only as sad.

They say that the eye to the soul is a window,
some find such introspect lame.
Still others may prefer to focus on shadow,
some seek out fortune and fame.

To see the world softly through colors sublime,
requires a heart that is pure.
Yes, to see the world as an angelic rhyme,
the eye must be steady and sure.

Through the eyes of angels she captures our world,
the wonder of God in her lens.
By virtue of her work beauty is unfurled,
earning her many a friend.

To HooverHoover state: waking up to sleep
because that’s all I’m good for;
out of work, out of time again
and my brother won’t spare a dime.

Blanket sweat reminds me of this
Hoover state: waking up to sleep
in depressions of this planet;
the moon weeps for me in daytime.

I yank my pockets out, like it's
my country's flag; punch-line of the
Hoover state: waking up to sleep
in my sagging skin on decline.

I've no penny to my name,
jumping out the window (one
last time) makes me worth more in this
Hoover state: waking up to sleep.

Twinkle StarTwinkle twinkle little star
Noone cares just who you are
When you fall the fall is far
Twinkle twinkle superstar.

Broken Hearts Can Still Keep BeatingHis hands are not like yours.

Grieving
like lace across glass; a
[a] black galaxy
made a memory of me.
He told me he felt
cast into chaos.

Arms flailing,
he murmured

"A distant red dwarf--
wove stories
of liars."

A subtle kiss of stardust
felt like a promise
holding the world still
but even that
suddenly seemed made up.

I'm sorry,
I still don't know you.

The Soldier's Letter To HomeI write this from my death bed
My eyes fading in the light
Drowned in crimson red,
Drowned in shaking fright.
The enemy has won
The war now has ended
And though killed by my son
May his sins be ammended.
For this is Civil War
I cannot change the tide
So from you I implore
Do what is right.

Bury me somewhere nice
Near, and fair to look at
And forgive my son his sins;
For in war, no one wins.

RedRed is the blood of life flowing through veins;
Red is the petals of a lover’s rose.
Red is the stripes looping ‘round candy canes;
Red is the polish painted on my toes.

Red is the crab apple eaten by deer;
Red is the velvet of Christmas stockings.
Red is the lantern welcoming new year;
Red is the plumage of cardinal wings.

Red is the blossoms waving from the tree;
Red is the brick wall protecting my home.
Red is the sunrise saluting the sea;
Red is the faded ink on the worn tome.

Red is the color of life, love, and war,
And yet red symbolizes so much more.

Stand StrongI stand in awe at the strong winds blowing
Hurricanes rising and tornadoes growing
Housing blown away and long hair flowing
Killing the crops of this year's sowing.
Stay strong, dear brothers; Strong in disaster
Stout in the winds that blow ever faster
Stay strong for your children, strong for your wives,
To get to the morning you must first traverse the night.

A Poem for LokiRhyming is hard
Just so you know
But for a friend
I'm giving it a go

His name is Loki
From Scotland, of course
Today is his birthday
I heard from a source

Plays Pokemon for fun
and Nuzlockes them too
Though one in particular
Might need a redo

His adventure in Hoenn
Was not quite grand
Many comrades died
Of course, not planned

But in the end he won
With a badass team
Including a Mightyena
Who reigned supreme

Not forgetting Mad6
Who replaced 5 before him
His chances of survival
Were really quite slim

And then there was Boom
Who exploded with glee
Against a troll Milotic
We won't forget thee

Tittypank is next
In the list of honours
Though

ContrariwiseSilly little Alice,
Forget all you thought you knew,
For deep inside your head,
Everything is all askew.

If they tell you that one plus one,
Equals twelve and half, my dear,
Don't worry yourself about it,
For two is so last year.

Don't even try to be different,
Or it'll be "Off with her head!",
And you'll find it's better to live a lie,
Than it is to end up dead.

So heed this socially accepted advice,
Ditch any scraps of your insanity,
To cavort with the Hare in March,
Join the Hatter for a cup of tea.

Fritter your days away,
Dancing under a Cheshire moon,
Don't mind the surrounding chaos,
Ignore impending doom.

But even as you join in

Continuous VoicesIt all began when I was ten
I found what lingered in my head disturbing
And it wasn’t until I grabbed a pen
And saw what truly lingered when I began writing.

There were continuous voices within my head
I was not one to favor them dead
Although, they had violet images attached
The way I wrote them matched.

Since then, the voices have changed
Octaves have risen and lowered
Their words have exchanged
And eventually became uncensored.

These continuous voices have brought war
Ones with an uprising roar
And at moments I want to kill the sound
For they are so profound.

Yet, they continue to crescendo
And welcome me to a hidden story
And so

Aur si plumbUn gând de aur, dar se simte
mai greu ca un pumnal de plumb
ce intră-n coaste, se învârte,
și caută să iasă prin minte...
Stilou de aur, scrie versuri,
dar lasă urme ca de plumb,
pe foi mânjite de cerneală,
și de cafea, și alte resturi...

Un glonţ de aur, dar se simte
mai tandru ca o zi de plumb,
îl pun aici, închid capacul,
și ca un gând, îl scot prin minte.

SandmanSleepwalking in tainted dreams
Falling through its open seams
Caving into unsure grounds
In a dream where fear abounds

Tightrope nerves are torn right through
All the facts become untrue
Screams are muted and lost midway
Still terror exists to my dismay

Faces change the closer I peer
The way I feel becomes unclear
And in the end I know it's fake
The pivotal moment when I awake

But still disturbed and afraid to dream
I wonder if they are at all what they seem
So I close my eyes and there you are
Staring at me looking bizarre

You told me you were there for me
To fight off the frauds valiantly
Trusting you I did what you said
I unmasked the

An AfflictionA bitter, purging wave of syllables
Unspoken chunks of memories and thoughts
Imperfect, raw and utterly sincere
The phonemes splatter hard against your heart

The sudden, wracking, cathartic release
Of vowels, consonants, and emotions
Completely empties your reserves of verse;
Vocabulary drips from nostrils flared

A fragment of dreams clings onto your tongue
Before it's spat on the reflective pit
That dreadful grip begins anew and forces
A dry-heave of clichés and tired words

And though it tears the lining of your soul
This sickness shall continue; never cloyed

Faerie InspirerThere once was a faerie so stunning and fair
With smooth caramel skin, and long, dark, locked hair

She was clever in mind with a deep-rooted soul
A carnal shaped figured; true beauty in whole

She danced in the wind, with her wings at her side
Enchanting onlookers who fell mesmerized

As she flew through the sky, to her home on the moon
Her departure caused many admirers to swoon

They composed complex tunes, and wrote tales of her splendor
And drew detailed depictions, desperate to remember

The faerie’s return saw loud cheers and great art
Each piece revealing a piece of their hearts

They begged her to dance for their eyes once agai

An Aching NeedAn Aching Need

This Kingdom of magic and wonder suits me very well, for I am without want.

I rule absolutely over my ugly subjects, like a puppet-master maneuvering strings.

The sting of want may not exist, but I have an aching desire for the one I hunt.

They are fairly simple , yet very beautiful to me; I NEED them above all other things.

My wiles and trials to win them over have led to a devious act, for which I regret not.

Whisked away through my mystical Labyrinth, her beloved brother sits upon my capable lap.

Though through her luck, and some help, she has made it to me, and ruin she has wrought.

And even though I thought myself

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by ~Winged-Spoon, Nov 2, 2008, 9:04:46 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

There’s gaps on either side of me
Where I let in the pain
There’s carnivores inside of me
A’ running to my brain

A morning of coincidence
Pulling at my heart
Brought me back to inference
Incomplete work of art

Thought about selfishness all last night
It wouldn’t go away
Sing it out, I thought I might
But too late, it was day

Two years ago I gave a rose
To a boy I once adored
The rose died, as the story goes
I blamed it on being bored

The eight Musketeers, the mighty ones
We fizzled out to four
We were having so much fun
Till someone wanted more

Circa early 2007

Artby ~Winged-Spoon

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

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