Word Prompt Winner
➥ Deemed folly
She was as if lured out of a historical book,
Alluded by the shimmering lights of New York.
She feverishly sought it's history,
visualized it's corruption;
Decided her delicate heart did't belong in the present.
There were no horses on the busy street,
No gentleman offered a long, peaceful walk.
She was scoffed at for seeking romance,
For engaging strangers in small talk.
Her love of sad poetry, and her old little habits,
made her whole but a deemed folly.
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Word Prompt Runner
➥ Historical
Thou repeated the same mistake.
To become what you could not make.
You desire thyself an artifact to be stared upon.
But cry in pain when ye takest that turn.
Thy regrets stare back at ye from the mirror.
Thy pain continues as tomorrow, never ending.
The point of thy sacrifice was wasted.
Thy outcome ye loathed.
Because ye forgot that your beauty was not supposed to be historical.
For being thy truest self is the greatest memorial.
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➥ Historical
Historical tales echo within our homes,
Their voices carry through the walls and domes,
Forgotten events trying to break through
The barrier of ignorance that we pursue.
A book full of accomplishments of old,
Lies gathering dust, its story left untold,
In the city library, it sits alone,
A treasure trove of knowledge and wisdom to be shown
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Challenge Prompt Winner
➥ Historical Accuracy
She walked toward the ruins, following the archaeologist who had brought her there.
"We don't know exactly what this building was," said George.
She looked at him. "But it's perfectly obvious! You can see the floor plan laid out here..." she pointed at a square of stones, "...and here." She pointed to several more spaces outlined in stone.
