Poems from writerjordan
The princess dances, draped in all the world's white:
white shoes, white fan, white skirt and train,
white lips, white blossoms, and one...
You have slaves
but you never see them.
There she lies: on the cold, hard floor.
Her eyes flutter open; she dreads another day of
toiling...
She awoke in the dark, with the moon in her eyes.
She'd taken a chance; she'd been foiled by king's spies.
She rose, and drew the quilt...
A tired little cottage rests on a hill,
swallowed whole by a surrounding verdant sea
of grass, of scapes that roll and sway
like Latin...
Perfect, flawless, ethereal.
These words, when assigned to one human being, banish the rest to a mediocre Tartarus,
an abyss of ever-...