Honied Words- Weight Gain in Poetry by Butter-Cups, literature
Literature
Honied Words- Weight Gain in Poetry
The Queen of Bees was greatly shocked
When she rose that morn
she just looked out her window
and was, right there, filled with scorn
Amidst the Butterscotch Path
Where the sane would flee
Stood a chubby Saccharin
Eating honey fruit from her tree
“Such ignorance and gluttony”
Rage filled the Queen's mind
Not for the honey she was losing
But instead, the girl's bust line
Try as she might, the Queen was in peril
Her chest forever flat
But here was a trespassing dullard
Upon her chest, two orbs of fat
White knuckles clenched the window
And in an instant eyes turned green
And whilst the girl continually fed
Twas revenge, that sough
Fallen Angel
Crawling in my forlorn appearance
I hide my soul behind these tattered wings
Tattered and broken as they are
Plucked of light, stained in tears and blood.
In quiet despair upon the cold earth
Smeared in dirt I crouch upon my weary knees
And clutched timidly between my fingers
Rests one last jewel of Hope.
A single unblemished plume plucked
From the silver light of dawn
A feathered ray of light from beyond
To illuminate the void that has me bound.
This precious barb of silk
Once lost as I was and forgotten
Blazes now to immerse me in radiant bliss
To wash away the pain, draw me from the abyss.
So now I fade away…
I'm tired of being here,
all locked up in my head.
Every day I hear a whisper,
and I'm closer to being dead.
Something taps me on the shoulder,
something I can't fight.
When it talks in that low voice,
my eyes are shut so tight.
Once it gets to a cetain point,
and I'm still sitting on the ground,
it tells me to do things,
I'm trying to ignore the sound.
Its voice is harsh and filled with confidence,
and I can hear a hint of sorrow.
Even when it's telling me,
I won't live to see tomorrow.
I don't know what to say,
and I don't know what to do.
I'm still hearing it now,
and I'm still suffering too.
I can't tell what its weak
Take that feeling of hopelessness
And wipe it from your face
That frown will get you nowhere,
And yet nowhere you will go.
Listen to the snow that breathes
On this glacial mountaintop.
The summit watches you, and it
Laughs at your marked cowardice.
It is telling you to turn away,
For the God that rests atop this crest
Holds a crown of blizzards,
The blood of dragons on his collar.
Slicing open the girths of faeries
That bleed harsh cold and despair.
A boya saplinga man like you
Could never brave the victorious screams.
You trudge onwards, yet,
Like the fool that you are.
Can you hear that sound, above
This b
The Sea of Death:
We weathered the dreaded maelstrom,
As the sea displayed her rage.
She danced like a fevered puppet,
Upon her deadly stage...
Within her swirling currents,
My men were cast aside.
Drawn into her hungry maw,
It was then and there they died.
Never had I seen such a thing,
It spoke of darkness before my eyes,
A serpent rose from the watery depths,
As lightning boiled from the skies.
It's screaming call was as a banshee's wail,
It stole the life from our shrieking lips,
Like the chilling touch of death itself,
We fell like slaves before the whips...
Darkness came and darkness went,
My eyes opened to the morning