Dance of the SunriseDance of the Sunrise
I never had a problem reminding you to watch the sun rise over the cedar wood dock with me. I reminded you every single day. And when we finally did, I fell asleep against shoulder before the sky even turned to a lemony peach color. But when you woke me up I swear it was the most beautiful thing I could ever dream of.
When the sky grinned with warm sunlight and dawn turned into day, I told you I loved the way the sky lit up like a tender pink rose, the same color you blush when I kiss you. And when you blushed I swear I saw the sunset all over again.
Something Like DecadenceSomething Like DecadenceSomething Like Decadence5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Last night I dreamt of buttons
I was a man with harmonica lips
you were the number six
[six] cracks down your broken spine
I swam in Atlantis
and pulled the scales off the tender fish
I plucked them like feathers
one by one so I could hear each of them scream
I was watching the dirt collect under my fingernails
telling them thanks for the memories
but I was never one for lying
Last night I didn't dream of buttons
I dreamt of acid on cold pavement
I was a man with love-handle-hips
you were the number nine
[nine] cracks no, bullets through my spine,
through my heart
I was drowning
I was running
I was flying
and I was plucking feathers off the
Into a CongoShocks rippled southInto a Congo2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
realmed a loss and screened a track
stacks strung low and around again
She wanted the feeling of mica between her teeth
like lashes on a chiseled tree
totaled through and ruffled down
up and around again
Court and run south and
wrecked a home, she sat still
her knees knit together
unraveled over and into raw skin, over and into
she bloomed her hair into a Congo
It peeled like rose petals beneath her feet
a sheet strung high and low and around again
She said tell me why, but her fingers curled
around your head, around your neck, slowly
and then her shoulders
Lava LampLava Lamp5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You're my lava lamp, I told him one night
What the hell is that supposed to mean, he asked
I don't call him my lava lamp any more
Shit, I've CrashedShit, I've crashed again.Shit, I've Crashed4 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Just like when you're eight and you call 911 and expect the police
never to come and fucking check up on you
But they do
Or when you're drenched with rain and that prick of a rainbow shines brighter than you've ever seen before
It always does.
And your mistakes leave your legs dangling
Your fingers in that tingling sleep
And there's a tumult of broken glass in your mind screaming
You've fucking failed again
You've fucking failed
So you fall to the ground
And sink your fingers into your matted hair
Bury your head in your knees
There are stars in your eyes.
StarsStarsStars5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I can eat the stars, I whispered.
I dare you to, you said.
So I plucked them out of the sky and I swallowed
one of them
But I saved the moon for you.
Eternal ImpactEternal Impact5 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
I met you in diapers
Though I cant remember it
You had on your typical balloon pants
That reminded me of a big colorful parachute
I realize now
That if I jumped from thousands of feet up in the air
I could have grabbed your fingers
And your parachute pants could have sailed us back to earth
You looked mischievous
Your thin blond hair wispy and boy short
I remember how your ears upturned
In a small pixie-point
You gave me a scar
A tenor scratch along my left cheek
Not to say that I didnt return it
That weve tied ourselves up
In an endless jump rope
[No matter how bad we are at jumping it]
In an infinite hand-in-hand love
Together we are creativity
Together we are meteors
Together we impact
Together we are
No matter how much Neosporin I dab on our scars
They are much too far imprinted
To ever ever fade
For ElizaFor ElizaFor Eliza3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There is a swan that holds together the glass fragments of my spine with the elegant curve of her neck
and tucks my worries into her feathers like fish tuck the oceans under their gasping,
When the evening rests its languid fingertips over the sky line
you can see her weaving thin effervescent nets out of the rippling water
and catching glass shards and skipping stones between the meshes of thread
Your laugh is tender and surging
and its when our shoulders shake and tremor brilliantly [like silent thunder] that I know
we grip the same p
Language of the FireflyLanguage of the FireflyLanguage of the Firefly5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Dear Henry Jones,
Today I saw a salt water fire burn its tender green flames and I thought of you.
P.S. I miss you.
Dear Miss Hannah Firefly,
When its all over Im coming back to marry you.
Dear Henry Jones,
Today I saw the brightest of night stars winking their little bare feet at me and I thought of you.
P.S. I love you.
Dear Miss Hannah Firefly,
Ill buy us a house near your favorite strawberry field and we can have strawberries for every meal.
Dear Henry Jones,
Today I felt rich dark chocolate melt lazily against my tongue and thought of you.
P.S. I hear you.
Dear Miss Hannah Firefly,
Sorry Ive been away longer than I expected, Im on border patrol for another 2 weeks.
Dear Henry Jones,
Today I felt the wind whisper its chilling kisses against my neck and thought of you.
P.S. I forgive you.
Dear Miss Hannah Firefly,
Im coming home.
Dear Henry Jones,
Stellashe refused to wish upon starsStella3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
silk. she refused to wish upon sevens
the spaces between her fingers
Heart StringsHeart StringsHeart Strings4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's like this:
You leave and now my center of gravity is thrown halfway
around the world
i'm unbalanced, restless
I'm day dreaming on rooftops in black and white and deep
and dancing with my silhouette in the mirror alone
Boy, you're pulling at my heart strings
the success storyyou are a success storythe success story4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
ended on a page of gold
and even if you don't have a final word,
we'll let it be your deepest breath.
you take my voice
between your teeth
and speak for me,
through chicken scratch poetry
on the back of grocery lists and receipts,
through my cursive O's attempting unity
with all the other letters in my last name.
and for all I know,
for all I know,
I am a chartless continent
still clinging to Pangaea
in an Atlas.
I am converged words
and their ink
in your favorite book,
and I still aspire
to take you to a paper castle
on the last page.
and yes, you are blindfolded glory,
but the wealth of sunlight falls across
your vision in all its worth.
you are strength walking backwards,
and still you're the person I see
being whatever and whoever you desire
and remembering every name they give you.
you are the success story
told as if a fairytale
because you let down your hair
and then send it away to chilly nights.
you lose glass slip
ImagineImagine5 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
Look, I said,
Un-cupping my hands
from around a million child-hood wishes
and a dozen dandelion seeds.
I watched as they whirled away
and tears pushed at the edges of my eyes,
carefully buttoning themselves over my freckles.
We watched them drift out of sight,
humming a thousand lullabies
I'm wishing, I promised
Listen, he said, Itll be okay.
Expedition Letters to GraceDear Grace,Expedition Letters to Grace3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
You told me, back when we were visiting Peru and I was feeling down, that I would eventually find my calling in life. I write to you now to tell you, quite happily, that I have.
I can't explain much about it at the moment, only that my sudden absence from the university is for a reason. As I write, I am currently en route to New York City, to visit their museums and get a taste of the culture. I told you before how I wanted to visit New York while I had the chance, and now I travel with purpose.
I will say now, that while what I am about to do may seem strange to you, even mad, I can promise you that I am of sound mind and am determined to see my ambition through. Never before have I felt so strongly about the rightness of my decision. I will explain more in time. All I can tell you now is that I am launching my own expedition, and that it will be unorthodox, to say the least. I write you because you are my oldest and dearest friend, and I feel I can trust you.
Give my best
bedIt's a stabbing sightbed2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Letting in the morning with a crack of the shades
And you forget you could page-turn horizons
Waft through free territory
Where acres are just beds
Made of fresh land
Wrinkles in the river
Tell remembered times
About old languages that could make you cry
About soft beds that carve away canyons
A speaking voice lifted from the earth
Begging you to remember
Daffodil RainDaffodil RainDaffodil Rain5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Its raining daffodils, you say.
So I pull up the umbrella
And turn it inside out
And we catch enough brilliant petal rain
For the blazing butterflies
You Slept Through The Alarm Again - Little AubadeIf, perhaps, you had turned at that momentYou Slept Through The Alarm Again - Little Aubade2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and your hair had caught in your fingers,
the straw being fed into the spindle, struck
by the high, thin light of first waking, the whorl
of a single line descendent from the sun, born
watery from the gap below one velveteen curtain,
all of it staining over gold and dusty and slow,
the edge of your mouth might have met the edge
of my mouth, narrow gaps both without attention
openingif, perhaps you had turned again,
your hand could have met the curve of my neck,
your canvas rough fingers tying knots of my hair
and I would have sighed, thick spreading in your ear
like the light itself learning to speak in tongues
you might understandif perhaps you had
opened your eyes, squinting, eyelashes caged
together, it all would have been edgeless and bright.
Lesbians, lesbians, lesbiansLesbians, lesbians, lesbians.Lesbians, lesbians, lesbians7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Lesbians = Women. Women = best things ever.
I love BEING a lesbian, too. I feel as though I can really appreciate the beauty of women. I mean, Id find it extremely flattering if a woman checked me out. They rarely do. I do most of the checking out. In fact, there was this girl in Tescos, wearing her school uniform, with a short mini skirt and she had the best legs Ive ever seen. (For the record, Im of a school age too so dont go thinking Im an old aged woman perving over young girls.) And I admit, as I was pushing my trolley, she walked past me and I just had to throw my head round and peer over my shoulder for another look. Honestly, Im not a pervert. Im just a girl whos got to struggle in a lesbian free country side village world where two girls having a good shag is frowned upon.
My problem? Being a teenager, I have low self esteem. Obviously I do, its what comes with being 15 years
thirteen ways of looking at--one crow sorrowthirteen ways of looking at--3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
two crows joy
three crows a wedding
four crows a boy
five crows silver
six crows gold
seven crows a secret
that has never been told.
i suppose my secret is that i never told him that he is a blackbird.
he is all sleep-crooked eyelashes, dark and glossy, and his wingspan
is over seven feet long which seems big enough to pull down the sky.
i could tell him about birds as cliche symbols but his mouth is forceful,
his body is warm and needy and there is no room for literature in bed.
my hands flutter needlessly against his shoulders and i hope
i am a bird of paradise but in truth i am no bird at all.
i guess my secret could also be that i want to marry him
and bind his jagged elbows tight and teach him about earthly things
like poetry and not making me cry. he will fuck up, i know this.
he has before. when it happens again i will sob about useless symbolism
and nursery rhymes and maybe he will remind me "two crows joy."
this is supposed to be where i write about loving
Let's Just Be Us1.Let's Just Be Us5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't like the word "fall"
in association with the word "love,"
because it leaves too much room
for scraped knees and bruised egos,
for broken bones and fractured hearts.
[I don't like the word "fall,"
but I have transformed into Autumn in your arms.]
I've changed my mind. I am no longer a season-
they never stay for long,
and no one ever wants the one they have.
Can I be a tattoo, instead?
That way, you could remove me if you wanted,
but you never would,
because it would hurt too much.
Nevermind. Tattoos get covered up.
I don't want you to have to hide me.
[And I don't want to stick around if you don't want me.]
How about penguins?
I heard that they mate for life.
You've always known I'm indecisive.
I did some research, and did you know that after the female penguin gives birth,
she leaves the male with the egg
for two entire months?
[I don't think I could leave you.]
So can we maybe just be people?
[Let's just be us,
and let's just be in love.]
Riding BikesGoing off medication is like riding a bike.Riding Bikes2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
The doctor holds tight to my handlebars and lowers my dosage. The training wheels are off, and oh hey, look at me go! It's like flying but not, and I'm doing so well but then there's a horrible accident and I'm somehow upside down at the bottom of the sea with both wheels still spinning.
"Help," I say, and my doctor pats my head, puts a band-aid on my knee, and writes a note on my chart.
I've balanced by myself for months at a time, but I always end up hitting a fucking tree or falling off a cliff or something equally catastrophic because I am a catastrophic person. Except that is an exaggeration. I am an exaggeration.
I like to compare mental illnesses to mundane physical activities. Also you should know that I am sick but trying to get better.
Sometimes I relapse and then write poems about it.
It's not even the kind of sick where people bring you soup in bed and soothe your fevered brow. It's the kind of sick where I'm late to work because
Heartfelt Feelings- You are special.Heartfelt Feelings5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
- Your deep desire and care for me exceeds many others thoughts for me.
- When you come around, peck my cheek, the stars shine during the light of day instead of the night.
- As you come out of the night, your mask delicately hugging your head and tie straightened, the wind rustles the trees; They do not give away your location.
- To sentries you go, to and fro, not leaving one without a scratch.
- After this, you'll eventually rest, the clouds above no longer dark.
- I lie in wait, for when you return, we will relax.
- Gently caress my cheeks, nuzzle my neck, show me the sorrow you've carried all day.
- Upon my shoulders, you may lay your problems.
- Do not burden yourself with the world's weight upon your shoulders.
- At least allow me to help.
- I'm here for you, pluck me from the ground.
- Aren't I still your rose?
- Allow my petals to catch your tears, my leaves attract a scent.
- Let that aroma calm your fears and allure your attention towards me.
- Because you
throwing rocks.so i want to grow up and get a job and make happy, make money, make forget. i can't though, i'm too concerned with windchimes. i mean, fuck windchimes, right? i lie awake at night and listen to rigs on the rumble strip and the windchimes, (mostly the trucks), but damn, the tinkling is enough to keep me awake all night. but sometimes not, and then i dream i drown or maybe i marry a serial killer who props up corpses in rocking chairs or sometimes i dream about my ex-boyfriend's little sister because why not. then i wake up and it's taxes and credit cards and grades and people dying and shit.throwing rocks.3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
i don't know what is wrong with me.
i mean i do, though, it's called obsessive compulsive disorder and major depressive disorder and severe anxiety and a bunch of other shit that takes too long to detail, but i'm talking about the pieces insurance won't cover.
also fuck claire danes.
it's just like, when i close the door behind me i push on the doorknob six times plus seven plus seve
Things She Let Shattershe had come to love him with the many pieces of herselfThings She Let Shatter1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
she gave him the slow curve of her neck
the full force of her heart
and he gave her words
that were sometimes half full
The Opus Of The Everythingthe ocean floor, the twisted sea andThe Opus Of The Everything3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all the flying jacket bees, and all
the flying birds and he, the one who
caught the glint of spring, who laid
it on the downy dew, the crispy green
of May fescue, who saw the plans of built
up lights that burn to light a thousand
pools of dripping rain and puddles lay
on any given night or day, the brick by
brick, the mortar spread, the snap of sugar
sweetly felt, the brine that made it
through the cloud, the opus of the
everything, the great and wide, the heat
of flame, the sun in cold but sunny sky,
the sound of when a child laughs,
the opus of the everything