#stanzas

[concreteroses]

If you had to save yourself

How long would it take to walk through an already open door

[broomsick]

A better burden | may no man bear

For wanderings wide than wisdom;

It is better than wealth | on unknown ways,

And in grief a refuge it gives.

The Hávamál, stanza 10

[sweetness-doesnt-touch-my-face]

It has been a minute since I last shared my work on here. I decided to make this poem a little spooky, just in time for Halloween. 💀🖤

[domlarkin]

THE SYMPHONY OF WARD JACKSON PARK

The late May sun crowns Hartlepool in gold,

As summer’s splendid sanctuary unfolds.

A gift of Victorian pride and grace,

Time carves its history through this place.

The gates stand wide to the season's peak,

Where the ancient trees and wild birds speak.

The ornate bandstand shines in midday heat,

A silent stage where past and present meet.

Beneath the grand clock tower's steady face,

Shadow forms stretch at an idle pace.

The Jubilee Fountain, cast in racing green,

Spouts fresh, cold water on this scorching scene.

Rows of sweeping flower beds in glory bloom,

And fill the park with heavy, sweet perfume.

Petals of scarlet, gold, and violet gleam,

Woven together like a midsummer dream.

The heavy air is humming and alive,

As bees buzz low and nested insects thrive.

Deep in the woodland walk where shadows hide,

Great iron spiders haunt the canopy's side.

Industrial art woven into the boughs,

Where sunlight breaks and the wild fern bows.

Then out on the terrace where grand elders walked,

The modern crowds stroll where the Victorians talked.

Nearby, the old ship's bell stands proud and still,

A silent guardian on the grassy hill.

It holds a deep, reverberating hum,

Vibrating softly like a muffled drum.

A bronze reminder of the ocean's roar,

Anchored in lawns far away from the shore.

Upon the smooth and neatly leveled green,

Thunk-clack—the modern bowls collide unseen,

While drifting through this warm, midsummer dream,

The phantom golfers of a vanished scene

Line up their putts, as if it's 'Twenty-Two,

Then fade like mist beneath the sunlit blue.

And on the stone terrace, standing in the sun,

The soldier watches by the Silent Gun.

The stone-built lodge stands watch beside the gate,

Footsteps crunch-scuff where generations wait.

The lake goes splash as diving ducklings play,

While miniature yachts glide and sail away.

Hobbyists navigate the ripples with pride,

As graced swans drift on the shimmering tide.

The water lilies open to the glare,

While heavy scent of roses fills the air.

'The Place in the Park' clinks with ceramic sound,

As cooling treats and laughter pass around.

A rustle-sigh sweeps through the canopy,

A warm wind waking every ancient tree.

This living jewel from a bygone age,

Writes summer’s music on an historic page.

And we, the fleeting guests of late May's heat,

Walk paths where youth and fading memory meet;

For seasons turn, and blooms must surely fall,

Yet this green haven outlives us all.

The clock ticks on, the bronze remains sublime,

A perfect afternoon caught fast in time.

The sun may sink and fold the park away,

But tomorrow wakes to breathe another day;

A timeless circle, beautifully cast,

Where Hartlepool’s future kisses its past.

[xr33kx]

"Injecting the wall"

Injecting the wall is not a troll, if you roll with the ball when they call the wax doll things get dull and the goal is to fall down the hall if at all.

Cause we lol the whole mall. We go all into the poll that they sold, cause we're told don't stand tall and pay the toll, or we'll throw you into the row.

We get away from their lousy train, cause we hate disdain if it's in vain. Will they miss their aim when they smash their brain, and hit us with the whole crane .

Brains go out the drain. You can see it all unstained cause it's washed by the rain, but can see the frames in flames losing all fame, and tamed by James.

Never isn't long enough. You can never lose the cough. Though you can't unsee the bluff, they can never kill the love.

[cosmicawg]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐚𝐲

In the gentle glow of the light of day,

She finds herself lost in a poetic sway.

Does it dance on his grin, so pure and bright,

Or on her cheeks, kissed by golden light?

Daylight whispers secrets, oh so sweet,

As she ponders where its rays discreet.

In her laughter's cadence, in smiles so fine,

Or the twinkle in her gaze, like stars align.

But alas, as the daylight fades away,

Taking with it her joy, in sad dismay.

No more shall she compare, no longer yearn,

For she rests in peace, where sunbeams no longer turn.

In the quiet stillness, she finds her repose,

No more to ponder where daylight flows.

For in her memory, forever it shall stay,

The light of day, in its eternal sway.

[sttermsofservice]

We go back to Twitter to meet our second Twitter Mod, Elian!

[macrolit]

Welcome to December