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Tamed By The Devil Stepbrother

Tamed By The Devil Stepbrother

"Tacos *and* coffee? You're spoiling me. Next thing I know, you'll be writing sonnets about my charcoal smudges." "Already started," I deadpanned, though the image lodged in my mind: verses scrawled in the margins of my own sketchpad, lines about the way her fingers left shadows on paper, echoes of the ones she carried inside. "Sonnet XLII: Ode to the Stubborn Stain. It rhymes with 'pain' and 'again'."
6.1K viewsCompletedAdded to Library 176 Times as ode poems
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Lullaby (Fable Saga Book 2)

Lullaby (Fable Saga Book 2)

I must have dozed off while I was reading earlier. The Poems of Francis Ledwidge – the moth-eaten emerald green book I found in the study – is lying next to my pillow, the gold-embossed oak leaves on the cover glinting in the lamplight. The last thing I remember reading before nodding off was a poem gran had often sung to me as a bedtime lullaby. That book of the page is creased, dog-eared. The poem is about a water spirit who died after falling in love, which seemed to be one of Francis Ledwidge’s favorite themes – doomed love, tragic, beautiful maidens and lots and lots of flowers.
106.1K viewsOngoingAdded to Library 151 Times as ode poems
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Alpha Ozymandius

Alpha Ozymandius

I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said-"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away." P.B Shelley
104.6K viewsOngoingAdded to Library 178 Times as ode poems
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An Ode to Freedom

An Ode to Freedom

My chest tightened as I watched Flora walk away. Then, I straightened my outfit and went to my mother's company. That afternoon, I had plans with a few classmates to go back to my previous school and visit our teacher. While we were talking, I happened to scroll past a new post from Sean on his social media. "Walking around campus with my love again feels like I'm being given a second chance to clear my regrets for not being with her during senior high." When I saw the familiar background, my heart skipped a beat, and I left in a hurry.
1.5K viewsCompletedAdded to Library 50 Times as ode poems
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Melanin Diaries: Perfectly Imperfect

Melanin Diaries: Perfectly Imperfect

The poem went this way, Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there; I did not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uprising rush Oh quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.
8.513.6K viewsOngoingAdded to Library 462 Times as ode poems
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Frequently Asked Questions

The 'Odes'—oh, where do I even begin? It's like standing at the edge of an ancient, whispering forest, where every poem feels like a leaf rustling with centuries of human emotion. The main theme? Celebration and reverence, hands down. These poems were crafted to honor gods, heroes, and the sheer vibrancy of life itself. Think of it as a grand feast of words, where love, war, and the divine all get a seat at the table. There's a raw, rhythmic beauty to how they capture everything from the thrill of a chariot race to the quiet despair of unrequited love.

But here's the thing that grips me—the 'Odes' aren't just about grandeur. They dig into the dirt of human existence, too. The fleeting nature of youth, the crush of mortality, the way wine loosens both tongues and sorrows. It's this duality—the epic and the intimate—that makes them timeless. I always come away feeling like I've eavesdropped on something sacred, yet deeply familiar.

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