#Narrative poem

[academic-vampire]

Yes I do have 4 different versions of Dante’s Inferno. So what?

(In case anyone is curious… these):

[the-sound-ofrain]

I walked out of the house,

found a dime,

looked at the time,

"Oh dayum, it's 9",

Should I keep this? not the dime,

the rhyme,

Well, the poem's mine, so that's not a crime.

I did a toss,

Heads: I go to the coffee house first.

Tails: I take a bus and hear the screams of my boss.

Well, I slapped my head and uttered:"You think too much, Ross."

tip-toed to get a cappuccino,

ran to the shop across the street,

Ah ! the lady in white satin—

well, the dime was right,

*sighs again* Oh! gosh.

I sat at a table in front of her,

watching her satiny hands holding the spoon stir.

the waiter comes up and asks,

"what would you like to have, monsieur?"

I smiled and replied,

"what she's having, that's the thing I would prefer."

I waited,

but the hasty legs wouldn't stop playing clavier.

her lips enveloped around the edge of the cup.

with the bell of the church ringing in the background.

i felt god answer my prayer.

she raised her pupils while sipping,

my heartbeat joined the hasty legs

& sung a song about death stare.

She smiled, looking at me like a squirrel.

I made a move towards her in the midst of my inner quarrel.

She offered her hands,

My head bowed down in respect,

planted a kiss, revived chivalry.

after that, my lips all felt floral.

We exchanged names.

Ah,  the dreamy me,Ross weds Eurus.

she pinched me with a kiddish smile,

brought me back to reality,

I realised we were walking on the road,not the aisle.

I switched sides and started walking on the outer part.

she noticed the caring me & I said to myself,

"That's a good start."

she got scared and held my hands when a prankster screamed,

her fingers filled the gap between mine,

the way life keeps breathing under the shelter of art,

her open hairs being teased by winds,

the sun chasing her grim,

rest of the world cherishing the walking springs,

I felt like the luckiest man alive.

I won't lie;

I promised my mother to stay sober

but her eyes served espresso like the finest drink.

---apollo---

[sweet-somethings]

Poison hearts pump acid Through corrosive, dying veins Wisdom spills from blue lips Shared hopefully, in vain The spectre of a dead girl Holds a bedside wake As the malignant blight Becomes too much to take Her lover comes to join her In the dreary afterlife Where she bleeds eternally From wounds made by his knife

- Bug, #291

[snarl-productions]

My hands brush the water, feeling it running through my fingers effortlessly. It calls and beacons to me. I want to be consumed by it. My hand pushes deeper and I realize how easy it is to go in, so I jump. Water embraces me and my eyes blur in vision. I don't mind the suffocation it gives me because of the cool hold it has. It holds like my mother never did. The water holds me how I crave. All the air rushing from my mouth. A trail of bubbles float upward and I realize how good the air is. But I want to drown..

[sea-dwelling-wizard]

heavenly

Heavenly shall the gazers of stars be

when the Divines smile upon their generosity.

the First shall give himself to the Moon.

he shall receive the highest boon;

become an empty shell.

his tormentors shall burn in the Forsaken’s Hell. 

the Second shall give himself to the Sun; 

he shall find solace in the dark, for it will not be bothersome.

Divine his eyes shine, the Sun’s glow—

in his veins, godly magic shall flow. 

the Third shall give herself to the Northern Star;

pitiful will her fate be, the survivor of a Divine War. 

is it punishment, the attention from those otherworldly? 

or is it just praiseworthy? 

as for those, the Last— 

the Eleven cry their…victory? or is it a loss?

which fate awaits them?

the gift of a Divine, or a smile from Heaven? 

beneath the waves, within those souls;

in all the sea’s opulence, the Abyss begins to howl.

on that sunset will he sing,

shall the strings of a liar’s lyre ring.

in her eyes was the light of a thousand stars. 

in her soul was the misery of a thousand wars. 

Heavenly their Fates be;

through the mist rises the sword of Honesty. 

[andileighwrites]

Little Wanderer

...

While out and about one day I saw a little boy no older than two. He waddled, low to the ground, Seemingly lost. The discovery to walk must have Been a recent milestone. His baby blanket was hooked firmly In his little hand while his other thumb Was fastened in his mouth. His eyes, so big, seemed empty except For the thought of his mother. At least that's what I believe a two-year-old Would be thinking about. Then his dear mother appeared In a flash from the crowd. All eyes watching. Her face was lightning As her little boy wandered and fell behind. Her thundering palm met the back of his head And tears welled up in his darling eyes. She reached down and yanked him forward. His feet departed the floor. "Keep up with me!" "Hurry up! You're slow!" She scolded him, snarling, While she dragged him behind her. Then she released his small arm As if he could fend for himself. His pace could not keep up With his mother's strides. But she yelled like it was no fault But his own. I wish she would've just picked him up And cradled him the way he deserves.

...

Andi Leigh

[muadweeb]

HAROLD IN CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE BY LORD BYRON

ROBERT BARATHEON IN A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE BY GEORGE R R MARTIN

[feacrow]

Grown up

Why is your heart so very cold More icy than the snow To what devil have you sold The warmth and happy glow

That you had as a child It was so great to see Sun seemed darker when you smiled Where's who you used to be?

© Fea Crow, 2024

[visgrapplinghooks]

Left Behind

There was a muttering creek at the edge of the yard, Father said he never wanted to put a fence up, Our yard was the animals' long before it was ours.

My sister Shelly and I would play there every day, We'd play where the creek met the woods behind, And dip our toes in the water, feeling the bed of clay.

It was on such a day as this that Shelly saw her, A girl of long black hair, in the woods past the creek, Her voice was faint, but it sounded like laughter.

Her gaze met ours and I could feel her eyes smile, Yet neither of us came any closer to the other, We would continue to see her every once in a while.

It was months later when Shelly broke the spell, She crossed the creek for the very first time, as did I, From deep within the forest we heard a knell.

The girl with black hair and the smiling eyes, For once, I could get a closer look at her, Her skin looked rough and coarse, her face likewise.

She was a small and scrawny thing, Unlike me, who seemed to almost tower over her, And her hair was like thin little strings.

Wordlessly, she led us deeper into the woods, Further away from the creek and from home, Never speaking a word, we somehow understood.

We came across an old well in the woods, Made of stone brick, seemingly centuries old, Surrounded by clusters of monkshood.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong, The girl seemed anxious and tittered about, Shelly did not want her unease to prolong.

She offered her help and offered her aid, The girl indicated the cost was far too much, Little did we know, the price was paid.

The girl stared deep into the well's darkness, As if seeing something only she could see, Then turned to face us, face in deep distress.

We were led back to where the woods met the creek, Seemingly, our adventure had come to a close, Of that girl, we never saw another peek.

We would come to the edge for every day after, Hoping to catch another glimpse of the girl, But we would never again hear her laughter.

Shelly tried to cross the creek to the woods, But every time she tried, the currents raised, As if the creek was warning us in what way it could.

We would eventually stop playing by the creek, Our wonder gave way to melancholy, All that was left of her was a memory.

Many years later and Shelly and I drifted apart, It is as some siblings do, though sad, I look at the woods and feel a well in my heart.

As of late, I've taken to watching the sky, On purple nights like this, I still think of her, I still think of the girl that we left behind.

[justjozzyjitters]

Old Poem #96

"It wasn't them"

“It’s not you, It’s them,” He says, Like she always had, Blaming himself, As he kneels before her, Pulling her ever closer, The puddy in his hands.

“It’s not you,” she’d say, Taking a slight step closer to the edge, He’s the king, And her his knight, One step more between them, Edging on not reaching, Her palm– sweaty and itchy, The lifeline of only which he has found to cope.

“I love you,” he’d say, Pulling her closer again, Grasping her fingertip, As she points away from them into the abyss, He turns her back to him, And she drops her hand.

“I love you,” she says, On one lone night, Following it briefly with “goodbye,” She goes to the depths of her own head, The place of which, In his head alike, He had suspected, She has never been.

And so he pulled her down, A stool and a rope, Letting her limply down to the ground, And in lying his head against her things, Is Content despite the silence, Of his one brave night, A restoration of balance, Between the king and his one brave knight.

“It wasn’t you,” She says on her regained breath, “But now, it wasn’t them.” He looks back at her glumbly, As she ceases to speak, Refuses to meet his gaze, Or to even wipe away the tears he can simply not seem to keep at bay.

“Don’t do that again,” He commands, “Didn’t you know you could talk to me?” “You are more that just a knight,” “To me, you are all that is right.” All that is right in the king’s eyes, As yet again there he goes, Making it all about him.

About 2022, age 18.

[sassysadisticsarcasms]

If there are plenty of fish in the sea

If there are plenty of fish in the sea,

Then I am a fisherman whose boat ran out of gas,

Whose radio broke, whose phone ran out of battery,

And who didn’t tell anybody where I was going.

 If there are plenty of fish in the sea,

Then I am a fisherman who spent hours rigging up a pole,

Weighing the line, and choosing the lure,

Only to drop my pole into ocean first cast.

 If there are plenty of fish in the sea,

Then I am a fisherman who can’t tie knots,

Who can’t manage to open swivels,

Or even find my tackle box.

 If there are plenty of fish in the sea,

Then I am a fisherman afraid of worms,

Because they wriggle and squirm,

And my fear overrules my desire for fish.

 If there are plenty of fish in the sea,

Then I am an incompetent fisherman,

And the only fish I am going to catch,

Is the one that jumps into my boat.

[mftulin]

Poem: Sunken Spirit by Mark Tulin

in the shallow waters of a family, there is a sunken relationship,  weighed down by a heavy past and a capsized spirit, a present burdened  by its history, fearful of the future unable to float to the top.  ©️mft

[sarvamentu]

As the minutes go slowly by, the hours sneak in - and I’m wondering where you are. Still waiting for a sign while days float away and months sail over the oceans. All the houses crumble down and dust fills the air. I am trying to reach the sky (and get to you).

But I guess you forgot about me, when you went up there. There is this cold wind, that freezes the dust into little droplets and they fall and break. They disappear and then all the seas flood the lands and overwhelm it all. Just like you did.

~ L.B. | 15 Jun. 2015 | edited 08. Dec. 2022

[mahgnib]

A poem by Joyce Kilmer other than “Trees”

[mirror-of-the-world]

My heart

What is a curse?

A magical hinderence?

A longstanding punishment?

How do you get one? How does it leave?

I have a curse, my chest is empty

Not swollen or malformed

Simply put, it’s in the wrong place

My heart sits upon my arm

A bump that bumps out feeling

Most point and laugh

Mothers admonish their unruly childen

“Better eat your greens or else it’ll happen to you!”

I would hide my head and walk away, often forgoing whatever was in the aisle

It hurt but I could handle it, what hurt most of all were the others

Those who saw it as a opportunity

Twisting my sleeve they’d ask for all I’m worth and walk away

I could never do much more than wince and acquiescence

Then swear and mutter under my breath

Born with a curse of all things

everyone knows how I feel

No poker faces or elaborate schemes

Everyone knows what she’s thinking

Then, On a late night talk with a friend

I made a discovery

Their heart was stuck in their chest

They would pull and pull, But their heart would not budge

They couldn’t show me what hurt, not without struggle

So I put my sleeve forward

And my curse became a gift

Because if everyone knows how I feel

Then the people I love can know they are loved

I am not a burden

I am not cursed

My heart sits on my sleeve

So it can bump out love to everyone

[feacrow]

Sweetest Rose

You make me fall Like no one could Give my all For you I would

I can't keep going Without you near Isn't it showing Is it not clear

That you are my air The one I need So wise and fair Makes my heart bleed

When I'm too far And can't be close To where you are My sweetest rose

© Fea Crow, September 2023