 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 17:14:21 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 108216
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Slept Beauty.
[time] => 2005-10-21 22:51:10
[hometext] => This is my own twist on sleeping beauty, I was mad at her
[bodytext] => Slept Beauty. Imagine if sleeping beauty awoke Before the prince had come to kiss Her, red as blossom, Stone cold lips To awake to see the damage done By one pricked finger On a wheel hidden behind so many doors She should have thought never to seek To blame herself for the invading Black thorns that crept up castle walls To blame herself for comatose servants To be to blame for stopping time and fate And all alone she would have wallowed In self pity shame despair Until along came her prince fair And when upon noble steed he did arrive How would beauty have greeted this intrusion? How would he react to her despondent figure? Alone for so long in ashamed regret Would she want the world to know she’d ruined castle strong? That much time alone With clocks stopped and minutes void Would start to play with murderous thoughts Of hate and tortured souls Upon that fair princes belt a dagger would be glinting Would she take the easy way? A princess spoiled and now rotten Would aim to make her sins forgotten With a royal sash of pain And a century alone The slicing of the prince’s throat Would have just added to ample sins The slicing of her own pretty wrists Would have felt more joyous then pain And as the first clock did chime Her reflection breathed a sigh of relief Her punishment administered The truth dead to these awake Who mourn the petty princess? And scorn the evil murderous prince? Who crept in and killed his lady Upon her coma bed And then in shame of pure innocence Did away with his own neck So the people would have thought In ignorant glee At this sordid saga And the martyr bred under fingers cold Thank god that beauty did not wake Till all the shame was undone And we have moral fairy tale For the little ones [comments] => 1 [counter] => 205 [topic] => 25 [informant] => Sinfullilmissmuppet [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => MiscPoems )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com