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I actually really like my poetry. But if you think it's stupid, I beat you to the punch! HAHAHA!

Here goes.

A Sea Of Serpents Slithers Dead
An Emily Dickinson Emulation

A sea of serpents slithers dead,
Across an amber plain.
As children step upon its bed,
Leaves vivid verdant stain.

Teeth and tails of vipers bound
And buried in the earth,
Holler loud yet make no sound
To weep for what their worth.

Hush the hissing howl now,
Drink wind and water sweet;
And savor serpents’ scowling brow,
As silent sounds retreat.


My Ivory

My ivory gave breath to earth as it once gave to me,
How empty and how dismal would my life without you be?
My heart has put my soul to bed and still you cannot see,
How empty and how dreary would my life without you be.
And so my poisoned tears have begged the earth to set me free,
How empty yet how happy will my life without you be.


December

It tipped me off to the merry-go-round
under the smiling sun.
The gumdrops stained with honeydews
were taming them for fun.
You quivered under frosted light
just like a Christmas tree,
and twisted in a merry shape
with quiet harmony.
I cannot risk it being known,
however red I bleed,
that standing there before my soul's
exactly what I need.
And so I scribe this turnabout
with flick'ring eyes askew,
As snow falls on my eyelashes
I'm waiting here for you.


Null At Seventeen

The thought of high school sweethearts to me always seemed so out.
You have a life ahead of you
with ample time to scout.
Yet here I stand, my here and now,
not knowing what to do;
not knowing where I'm going,
not knowing when it's through.
I'm seeing now that others are discovering themselves,
and some are putting memories and demons on the shelves.
I wish not to be consort when acknowledging these two,
but naivety's a virtue and I know one must be true.
And finding now that time is ever-fleeting of control,
I'm losing sense of what is right while looking for a role.
I have nobody here with me to lend a blushing rose,
A spell upon which mind & will could melt away all woes
that which the other fellows, happy now,
have never understood.
That virtue later haunts me when I realize that they could,
nay, surely have been tried by this most villainous cliche,
and I'll cry until my vanity is slowly burned away.
The tricks of time are scaring me.
I'm not sure what they mean,
but the time I thought I had is feeling null at seventeen.


Lilac

In a black & dusty grassland,
where nothing seemed to beat,
a single blood-red flower grew
amidst the tawny wheat.
And passersby, though put off by the knots of weeping hay,
would stop & gaze awhile at the elegant display.

One day a little lilac swain,
while on a path nearby,
swaggered till, to its disdain,
the red one caught his eye.
This fellow soon was smiling while the blossom smiled back,
but far too out of gamut was this bloom to the lilac.

But still, these humble flowers
in a world markedly glum,
could gabble on for hours
'til their petals became numb.
And when the lilac set his roots to serve his scarlet dame,
the ruby flower thought it best to not put him to shame.

Because the lilac fancied her,
the rosy blossom wept,
for she had not the spirit to enjoy it or accept.
And when a seed was planted near the fair & blushing belle,
the lilac never knew because the other wouldn't tell.

In time the lilac lost his sway,
enamored with his flame.
In time the blossom turned away
and found her own sweet dame.
The seed sneaked past the swain until it bloomed its violet bract,
and thus outshone the beauty of the lavender lilac.

The crimson maiden loved her beau,
and unaware of scorn,
the April beauties’ love did grow
while lilac shrank to mourn.
The passersby continued gazing at the star struck blooms,
and left the lilac withering in black and dusty gloom.​
 

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I salute you fellow poet!
 
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