Poem Series - Tumblr Posts
A nice becoming,
A nice-state aisle.
She was the nicest girl to keep.
A nice show, nice bane.
She was the nicest ever.
She was lovely and to the bone seep.
Sue me to defend her being.
She was alleged colour and a volumed hair length bottle.
A sight.
A seep. A girl of bore.
A sight of lore.
An ecked poem.
She was.
A startle.
A seep.
A down.
Sunidhi
He speaks to me in ghost songs.
A right to the song of her summer.
Her lips are love links of my love too.
We are making her alive to every breath lover.
A soon minge tint of her red forever.
A better lie would be her hips startled moves on silhouettes.
Art pieces burns slow in her poison.
A burning head. A brood forever.
A lover hit, delicate moves on her forever.
A street start higher and the moved noon.
A sleepin' mouth on her love list forever.
A lover shit, too delicate.
What does it mean to acknowledge prowess. In my hot love power port lover?
Sink.
Sunidhi
Sign, love me still holler.
Tell me to stand still.
Back to her, learner go learn till.
Said your friends go there.
Where loving is saintish and moving is albeit nice.
Said the sun wars her.
Said you love.
You.
Harp.
Love.
Still.
You.
Sunidhi
A time in shyre of the said right is her.
She was the night cupped in the beginning of earth.
She was the sole that studied sparse beginnings of her poem.
She was.
She lived like the flowers like moons.
She was the sukh of night.
She was a life in itself.
We were glass panes colouring her wall.
Her coloured reeds were the news stances of all.
She was a night parashidha.
A light in the war, telling her meat goodbye.
She was a heaven. A telling a tale in the night of hers. She lived. She was. She.
Sunidhi
A lie share.
An annec.
A love in the hope of might.
We marked.
We loved.
We were all the lies that were nice to me.
She was a center-loved party in the love of currency. We loved and wared and fared.
We.
Were.
She was.
A stenched blood war.
A night.
Sunidhi
Star clusters of pasque flowers, the series
Archive #13 | copyright to saturnfairycat
Author's Note: NEW POEM SERIES MENTIONED RAHHHHH!! Anyway, this one doesn't have an abstract (too lazy to make one). But basically look forward to the next following days because we got three new poems coming >:D
-----------------------------------------------
Poem names:
Fairy salt
In truth
A human in a mushroom house
Notes from poems:
Themes: meadows, jealousy, dreams, saturn, hail storms, attic, sunflower, fairy
Themes: winter, romance, moon, skies, star clusters, spring, pasque flower
Star clusters of pasque flowers, the series
Archive #17 | copyright to saturnfairycat
Author's Note: and here we are - the whole series in one post. Let me know if you like this! Enjoy :)))
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Star clusters of pasque flowers
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Fairy Salt
Meadows, ponds, butterflies and all
The jealousy, envy towards a thrall.
To have dreams with one can break walls.
Saturn has one too many rings to fall
Out of line, out of sight.
Hail storms help those to recall
The attic, the dust, that was used to stall.
Oh, hail one that dares to crawl
Out of sight, out of mind.
Sunflowers, tulips, roses and all,
The fairy that withdraws the pall.
A spiteful befall.
Ocean waves, known to leman,
The echoing within a shell hidden under damp sand.
Floating in space, drifting on wood.
Isolation, fear,
Scent of salt and rotten pier.
A story told by sailors and elves alike,
A history, a history to dislike.
An entombment used to engulf the rage,
A minor death, left to drown and age.
One can remember some
While one can remember all.
But she– the one who dares to question,
Argue against her majesty, his bride,
Remembers all.
As it was she,
Who died.
The attic, the castle,
The meadow and the sea–
Something that one tends to forget because no one is free.
Do you see her soul?
Do you see the fairy fly?
Or have you forgotten
That night–
When the flowers started to die.
Wither, winter, spring and grow,
The elves dancing– prancing for gold.
But one elf does not twirl or beg,
They are meant for the flower bed.
Lying and crying,
Mourning and laughing.
The smell of salt and sound of hail,
Oh, please don’t forget the veil.
Flowers,
The honey, the comb.
Iris, Peony, and Manuka are thrown
Not at her tomb stone, no.
But at the majesty’s, the lord,
And no one below.
--------------------------------------------
In truth
The Queen’s light-hearted winter.
Cold, bitter,
We always knew he was a quitter.
The heavens, the uranian,
Look at the new Heather!
Romanticists broach vastly
To a new moon.
The witless prince thought he could swoon?
Ha.
Praise the rise of the skies,
Praise the rise of the star clusters.
My heart, oh my,
To see someone’s whole life in a night’s sky.
The yearn, the mourn, the emptiness,
For something that wasn’t even there.
A new moon, or a new dark age?
The Queen’s dark spring,
Pasque flowers and lilies of valleys.
Worshipping a wedding ring,
Bewailing a regrettable demise.
From dawn to nightfall,
From love to loathe.
An oath meant to be broken.
Flatter thy, satisfy he
Who dares question the crown.
Hate, hate.
Ball gowns and wedding cake.
How can one forget
The Heather, heaven, heathen?
I’m not one to shiver and click
When one thought they were slick.
Who thought a royal like me could see a fallen crown?
I can be sincere,
I don’t need the roses to be red.
Just listen to me
And there won’t be bloodshed.
Who dares to question the crown?
Who dares to question me?
Pasque flowers and lilies does not mean you’re free.
She had to die,
The skies were aligned.
The new moon is my oath
And it will not break.
Which they seem to not understand…
I’m always awake.
Oh, welcome the new dark age.
Oh, welcome the new cage.
Pixies and fairies does not belong to me
But what’s the point of trying to flee?
-------------------------------------------------
A human in a mushroom house
A funeral for someone who dares to question power,
a shadow obligated to cower.
A love towards another could be a one way stream,
while the amour propre of the other could be dead scream–
a sleeping lake.
When will my Inamorato wake?
When will fairies start singing for thy
Instead for the Queen?
Oh, her majesty, the Queen,
What a joke, what a pity!
Nothing seems to make them witty,
Their own Queen died, not from poison.
Pixie dust doesn’t fix everything, does it?
His love, his bride.
A fairy that reminded him of the clouds
Who kissed the sun in a hush lullaby.
As the moon, red as blood can be,
Replaced it at night.
The Queen was replaced, yes!
By a human, no less.
A minor death, left to rot…
As the human queen, was never caught.
---------------------------------------------------
"𝔉𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔰 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔱"
𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔤𝔬 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔣𝔞𝔯
𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥
𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔠𝔩𝔦𝔪𝔟 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥
𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔶 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨
ℑ'𝔩𝔩 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲
𝔑𝔬𝔱 𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔴
𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔡𝔞𝔶
𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔲𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔡
𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔲𝔫𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡
𝔑𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔡
𝔗𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔩
ℑ𝔰 𝔞𝔰 𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔶
ℑ 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥
ℑ 𝔱𝔦𝔭𝔱𝔬𝔢 𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔢𝔱𝔩𝔶
𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔦𝔞 𝔦 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔬𝔴
𝔏𝔢𝔣𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢
ℑ 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫
𝔒𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔡
ℑ 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢.
( No font:"Fears from the past"
Don't go too far
Don't stray too much
Don't climb too high
Don't stay in the dark
I'll get you
Not right now
But someday
When unexpected
When unanticipated
Never predicted
To be careful
Is as useless as a dead battery
I creep underneath
I tiptoe quietly
Paranoia i will sow
Left for dead is what you are
I never warn
Once arrived
I never leave.)
The story behind will be explained in the next post in this mini series
🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️
🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️
🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️
"𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔦𝔞 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔲𝔪𝔞, 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔰, 𝔞𝔫𝔵𝔦𝔢𝔱𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔠 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔰 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔬𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔲𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰. 𝔖𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔫𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔭𝔰 𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔰"