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Concrete Poetry

Literature
Yelling Written Words
If you write me a letter
with your heart full of hate
your words will burn away the paper,
leaving ashes in its wake.
Please keep your written voice down,
the yelling hurts my heart.
Just please don't ask my secrets of me,
it will only make this
that much worse.
Delving deep inside myself,
I push you far away.
These wounds mean nothing to me,
not a feather or a sand grain.
My hands are burnt,
my heart is scarred,
just leave me be,
I'm too far gone.
:iconCel-Dreams:Cel-Dreams
:iconcel-dreams:Cel-Dreams 80 39
Literature
Winners
You gave me bread on a rainy day
Such goodness took my breath away.
You told the world how you felt.
Through shallow confusion my heart melt.
We grew close and drifted apart.
I still love you with all my heart.
I found you hurt and to a cave we fled.
I could only kiss your lips but I watched as you bled.
I had to go to save your life.
I broke a promise that ended your strife.
You found some berries and ended a life.
We heard a cannon; a dog was near.
We ran for the Cornucopia and fled our fear.
Climbing the metal, making it safe.
Cato appeared but I had faith.
He grabbed you up, said it was over.
I had more luck than a four-leaf clover.
He fell to the dogs and they chewed him up.
The Capitol said, "YO MAN, WASSUP?"
"Only one victor can win in the end!"
I told him I wouldn't go without him.
So we grabbed our berries, sorry Prim.
The Capitol wailed, "NO STOP!"
"The winners are Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!"
:iconCHiC-con-STiCKS:CHiC-con-STiCKS
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Truth :iconobviousgreentroll:ObviousGreenTroll 45 138
Literature
Losing Me
I find peace in loathing
I suffer pleasure from pain
I feel comfort in dark clothing
Whether judgment or acceptance is my bane
I have cried all my tears
Still in darkness I am bound
Wandering desperately through the years
The true identities never to be found
Lost is all
A blanked out, thrown out memory
From the abuses that do appall
Hope and love was my every
But now my life will soon dissolve
Into a screaming dark place with no resolve...
:iconLost-Concept:Lost-Concept
:iconlost-concept:Lost-Concept 25 69
Literature
There was Once A Butterfly - Poem
There was once a butterfly,
paperfold, light;
too fragile - forbidden to take flight.
People gathered
to see up close,
what had, before long, won plentiful foes.
There was once a butterfly,
timid and shy;
too quiet yet to be blinded by the sky.
The others watched
carefully and close,
he was to fail as the monsoon blows.
There was once a butterfly,
learned and strong;
too tired yet to sing his own songs.
His liquid wings
of colour and light
caught eyes of envy every night.
There was once a butterfly
confident and sure -
almost broken but not tired anymore.
Death came
before his eyes
and led him to his own colours' demise.
There was once a butterfly
almost stone;
too afraid to admit that he was alone.
His wings of paper,
almost torn
were met now only with sights of scorn.
And so that butterfly
with teary-blind eyes,
awaited the end of eternal black skies.
He was to fly
but that desire died,
with his will and nerve to stay alive.
Once, his predicament
I knew and saw,
so anxious to rid him
:iconYesterdaysWake:YesterdaysWake
:iconyesterdayswake:YesterdaysWake 22 18
They Call Him the Signless. :iconbeautifulremains667:BeautifulRemains667 21 3
Literature
My Brother
I watched my brother go through the door, wanting him to stay with us for more.
He's too young, he has too much life,
to go where death comes on swift wings.
My mother cries, my father is silent.
I stand as a vigil on our doorway, watching as he fades from sight.
I look through the newspaper, seeing if America won against Iraq.
I see soldiers who are only boys, who have seen more bloodshed than most old men.
I look through the page of the dead, praying I don't see my brothers' name.
He is not, but I still don't sway,
because my brother is still away.
I pray for the day that he comes home,
safe and ok.
:iconNIGHTSTORM77:NIGHTSTORM77
:iconnightstorm77:NIGHTSTORM77 19 21
Literature
Freedom of Choice
Freedom of Choice
No longer shall I be shackled to the chain of events that tied a noose around my neck and dropped the plank.  By accepting my reality and rejecting the hope of deliverance, I am free to touch ground intact. Shedding my skin and emerging anew granted me permission to clean a slate I failed to realize was even flawed. In this ideal, we were born to believe that we only can walk on a path that was hand selected for us and we die in the futile attempt to make it so. Do not perish with thoughts of faulty self-discipline and unique subject matter. We have the ability to tread as many paths as we see fit for our omniscient being; if our will shall grant us direction.  When you parade a mask that taints your view a shoddy rose, you begin to entrap yourself with ideals that were not your own. You lay down and roll with punches and cheap-shots and plaster yourself in an unruly uproar of combustion that you can not douse. Removal of the mask marks your true a
:iconAnndreaLeeann:AnndreaLeeann
:iconanndrealeeann:AnndreaLeeann 18 30
Literature
The Red Road
There is a Red Road
That stretches from Cape Town to the Elysium Fields
And on that road there is a pit stop at Robben Island
To a prisoner's cell,prisoner 46664
Where the heart of a hero
Was once born
There is a Red Road
That runs from Berlin to Hades
And on the road there is a pit stop at the Biederitz River
Where the brutal ashes of a man named Adolf
Drift away in the currents
Endlessly
There is a Red Road
That lies between Poland to Zion
And on that road there is a pit stop at Auschwitz
Where the spirits of the dead
Still gather at the Death Wall
To remember
There are a million pit stops to be made
On the myriad paths of the interwoven labyrinths
That bind us together and tear us apart
Warning you and me of the potholes & pitfalls
On the Red Road that is the World
Telling us in a whisper "Don't forget it"
Telling us in a prayer "Don't repeat it"
2010 Sarah Donnelly
:iconQuantum-Poet:Quantum-Poet
:iconquantum-poet:Quantum-Poet 18 4
Literature
About scars
Scars are painfull; mine are beautiful.
----
Can anyone love a woman full of scars?
:iconmissgroselha:missgroselha
:iconmissgroselha:missgroselha 18 20
Literature
Nearly gone
My mind ticks seconds out of existence
Take a look at the clock
Are they here to stay?
Amongst Skyscrapers high and tall
My voice fades away
It's a retired noise
The car makes contact
I think the stopwatch broke
The pavement tastes disgusting
Horror in their eyes
they've remained
I must survive
Not yet
can't...
die...
:iconDeadXwriterXmaraveno:DeadXwriterXmaraveno
:icondeadxwriterxmaraveno:DeadXwriterXmaraveno 16 7
Literature
Nightlock
Shoulders yanked toward quiver
she slides through the forest like a knife
or is she just a ghost?
Not while there is an ounce of gray
in her eyes or a single human
left to love.
Left to defend.
Rook against rook, knight against knight
laying in wait to shoot at the machine
but no heart could foretell
what lay under the mud.
When it's time, the arrow stretches in her palms,
an elastic dancer on the swell of a bird's note.
But she keeps the best weapons for herself:
her tongue is wise and her throat is a whip
cracking hearts with a defiant song.
A folded waterfall slithers down her back,
but no sense of innocence can be contained in a braid.
Forget the games.
This is war.
:iconsillycanadianwriter:sillycanadianwriter
:iconsillycanadianwriter:sillycanadianwriter 16 14
Literature
Her Blood
Her Blood
Her blood falls softly,
Through the cracks of the heart.
She is sweetly unaware,
Of her life falling apart.
Her blood soaks through,
The depth of her true colours.
She'll never truly show herself,
Safe in her steel armour.
Her blood clots numbly,
Unable to carry goods around her own.
Choked in her prayers,
Hope was a place overgrown.
Her blood drips through,
The gaps in her outstretched hands,
No longer will she suffer, now;
Her mind is in other lands.
Her blood seeps through,
The cracks in her foundation.
Yet she still believes in faith.
Yes, we've resorted to sedation.
:iconginny1441:ginny1441
:iconginny1441:ginny1441 16 8
Literature
Lessons Learned
She is in the pictures,
Smiling her toothless grin.
What I wouldn't give
Not to care again.
It was a beautiful and innocent time;
She'd never believe
That there are poems
That don't need to rhyme.
I have so many things to tell her--
That Pooh Bear headbands
Aren't cool forever
(No matter how much cuter they are than Hello Kitty)
And she won't love Kim Possible when she's older,
And that hearts
Break easily--
Even if they're made of gold.
I wanna tell her --
Again and again --
Even if she's heard it a thousand times,
Even if it's a million,
That she should never hurry growing up:
Cause when she eventually does..
She'll keep wishing to go back
To that point of ignorance--
Of not knowing.
I wonder what she'll tell me in return
Knowing her,
Guessing her words,
She'll tell me to pray
Every night to the angels
Because they're always listening.
She'll preach at me
For falling in love
With the one who was so obviously
The first candidate to break my heart
Didn't I know better
Than to give my h
:iconmeganapostol:meganapostol
:iconmeganapostol:meganapostol 17 3
Literature
Letter to Him
Everything changed after you left,
everything became like the downward spiral.
Everyone became useless, nonsense ,
the voices, the laughters,
feelings vanished into the darkness,
leaving only fear and hopelessness.
The smiling faces turned into monsters,
and the girl...
The girl,
heartbroken, crying, bleeding,
only hopes for a way out of this misery.
Please come back...
:iconBassiePie:BassiePie
:iconbassiepie:BassiePie 14 8
Literature
My Mirror is Broken
                                                                   My Mirror is Broken
Television shows,
Like Maury, The Steve Wilkos Show, and Jerry Springer,
make it easy to judge from afar.
To laugh at those who are down and out.
I have problems too.
But as cold as it seems,
I watch these shows for amusement,
and they make me and everyone feel better about us.
If I look into the mirror,
I would see the truth,
and be happier,
but when I look into the mirror,
I am too far gone,
The mirror is shattered and pieces are on the floor.
I try to pick them up but I am not even worthy to clean them up.
I drop to my knees and think about my past.
Like people on thes
:icontheclassroompoet:theclassroompoet
:icontheclassroompoet:theclassroompoet 12 16
Literature
The Marathon
The Marathon
There I stood, thousands upon hundreds of people surrounding me, all of us at the ready for the race to begin. Looking about I predicted that I would keep up with the great mass of all the runners; not winning, but not losing either. I figured I could run at the steady pace that the majority of the runners would keep without a problem and with their presence surrounding me I would feed on the encouragement to keep running forward. The starting gun sounded and we all swarmed through over the line like a stream pouring forward down its path as a length of debris is removed. The fastest runners held themselves in check as the overzealous runners ran forward ahead. And for several miles I trotted along, one foot in front of the other in a steady rhythm.
Suddenly, I stumbled, my rhythm disrupted. It was nothing I told myself as I easily slid
back into the drum that moved the mass forward. I paid no sharp attention to those around
me, focused on keeping up; focused on not causin
:iconUnmeimiru:Unmeimiru
:iconunmeimiru:Unmeimiru 13 5
Literature
Never Fall in Love With a Poet
Don't hate us for not coming after you
When you decide to leave
Because we know damn well that poetry
Is the only thing that will linger
Long after you're gone.
Don't try to understand us
Because we never talk in straight lines
Or follow the rules
Even when it really matters.
Don't hold on to us
Because we know that there's not
One solid thing about us
That you can use to save yourself.
Don't try to change us
Because we believe in anything and everything
Regardless of your opinion.
And don't ever fall in love with us
Because we might just love you back
A little too deeply
Than you originally planned.
:iconBlueIV:BlueIV
:iconblueiv:BlueIV 11 9
Literature
The Stellar Lights - Revised
Cold and arid plains where nothing grows-
no hills, no valleys- it never rains nor snows.
It's dead earth filled with stumbling stones-
no people, no animals- yet the air's filled with moans.
Twenty-two million miles of grey possibility
and still not one grain of hope in this sandy sea.
Watching skies not blue, grey or red; only black.
Filled with moons and stars of every hue; no sun, in fact.
A sky seemingly escaped from a novel page's tear
written to glow, dance and swirl, and fill the night air.
Yes, the sky is beautiful filled with stellar lights.
My heart bears the weight in which my eye delights.
With beauty in every body ample and sufficient for each,
only stare at its splendor; it's too far beyond reach.
Witness beauty beyond speech.
On the scorched earth is where I'm at.
Gravity holds; but it takes much more than that.
I'm sprawled out on the Earth's dusty deck
exhausted and tugging the collar at my neck.
Laying with my thoughts on the heavens above,
eyes follow suit wondering
:iconAusticlyse:Austiclyse
:iconausticlyse:Austiclyse 12 32
Literature
38. trust
It is a matter of perception
And is also a matter of interpretation
Trust, a funny thing it truly is
But how do we live our lives around it?
Do you trust me because you know me
Or is that the reason for your distrust?
You have parts of me
That no one else will ever have
But you seem to be unaware
Or is it just not enough?
I trusted you because you never gave me a reason not to
But now that you have, how do I piece it back together?
I am lost in my mind
As the realizations set in
What I had not seen at first
Is slowly setting in
Is it worse to have suspicion though nothing done
Or betray promises made to seek your own truth?
Pushed, pulled
Tested and failed
What is left?
All that's left is a question mark
I do not know who you are
And wonder if you know me
They say, trust
Once broken will never be the same
Was it really worth testing the accuracy?
:iconmsyorkie:msyorkie
:iconmsyorkie:msyorkie 12 0
Literature
Who knew
To be happy is one thing
To have been is another
If only I wasn't as rash
With myself but I let it pass.
If I were inhumane
It wouldn't be this hard.
Your eyes that see
Don't see past my bars.
I push out to feel
All within my reach
To let you know I'm fine
I restrain myself from sighs
Deception, don't set in
You're not what I want to be
Trust me, I'm trying
It's just hard knowing you're not free.
I don't mind you looking up,
Share stories or whatever news
But with all that's good
Comes the bad things too.
Don't over look.
I'm still human
Like you.
:iconMilkfist:Milkfist
:iconmilkfist:Milkfist 10 11
Literature
Halo Redemption Page 1
During the Human/Covenant...an old alliance was once forge where a Human Spartan befriend her self with a Sangheili Ultra, many of his warriors called him raptor, his true name was forever known as Uhze 'Nostrom: the Dark Ultra Warrior...During on a Halo Ring...Raptor was reported to head to a location near the Halo Rings digging sites, his mission was to secure any information from a spartan Human name Eve St. Claire.
A UNSC Spartan that was caught sneaking in the base, the Elites had no idea of where she has came from but were well grateful to capture her and torture her soul until she gave up the info to earths location and the battle strategy of the UNSC military intelligence. Banshee's swarmed the tower and Wraiths circled around the spire guarding as Covenant Honor Guard Elites stood out of the entrance, knowing that the Humans will try to take this location and use it as they're new base. Spec-Op Commander Xor 'Vorgamme came through the entrance of the spire's meeting room and t
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Literature
From the Tallest Building
"Don't do it!"
He jumped anyway.
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