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Guardian4 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry
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SWS 15 - Stormstorm outside,SWS 15 - Storm2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
arrested inside.
release me!
Souls For Sale Contact UsSouls For Sale Contact Us2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We live in a world where everything can be sold or bought. Whether it be smiles or frowns, we sell everything.
We sell our dignity and pride. We even sell our nation's integrity. We have auction sales everywhere, whether it be Misbah-ul-haq standing with the sold victory at the pitch or Raymond Davis's black water team who bought the lives of the Dead.
Poor parents were already selling their children for money to eat. But for the first time we have brought a revolution, a better option for your shopping. At first we were only contended with selling the lives of our country men living at the borders of Khyber Pakhtoon Kwah to drone attacks
White Sunday VIImemory fails meWhite Sunday VII3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
at the altar where I kneel
my sins confound me
a past I can not conceal
there are angels in the air
without a thought without a care
and those of us of human form
must trade our souls to be kept warm
the visions recede
the incense precedes
and we are left to dance for hours that stretch to years
our passions resist
and then they persist
and we are left to pray to idols stacked like Russian dolls
you are lovely
and I cannot help but speak
words of yearning
the dream is strong, the dreamer weak
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
the zombie brideThe zombie bride?the zombie bride3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
She lied and tried
to get inside my head.
She said with a grind
she wanted me for my mind.
Or words to that effect.
William F. Devault. all rights reserved.
The Assassin part 3The Assassin part 31 year ago in Sketches More Like This
Greywyyn jumped from branch to branch as the cool night wind whistled in his ears. He was stalking an Orc scout patrol who were returning to their camp after searching through the forest for supplies. Greywyyn staid on their trail and remained unnoticed as he followed them closely. "Good things Orcs have bad hearing" Greywyyn thought to himself "or else the probably would have noticed the leaves and snapping above them." Just then the patrol stopped and started looking around and their leader began whispering in their native tongue. Greywyyn stopped following immediately and hugged on tight to a tree and tried to blend in, "Crap did they se
The Assassin part 2The Assassin part 21 year ago in Sketches More Like This
Greywyyn returned to his hideout in the Elder Forest where he had a cabin safely placed out of sight from anyone wandering the road. He opened the door and did a quick check around the house to make sure no animal or other unwanted guest didn't decide to drop by to visit him. When he made sure the house was empty he took off his black cloak and hood and hung it on the coat rack next to the door. He started to undress himself from his armor but only manged to get the chest piece off when a hooded figure jumped through the window and tackled him.
Greywyyn fell on the wood floor and his attacker put a dagger to his throat. "My my." the atta
The WarlordThe Warlord1 year ago in Sketches More Like This
Gorzag removed the heavy helmet from his head and took a deep breath of air. The smell of blood and the dead filled his nostrils as he looked around the battlefield. Gorzag was looking for any of his clan that survived the battle and manged to spot a few roaming the battlefield scavenging valuables from the fallen human soldiers.
He clutched his sword in his hand and began to do a sweep of survivors; human and orc alike. The humans would become slaves or be sold as hostages depending on how healthy they were or if they were a noble who's wealthy family would want them returned. The orc survivors would be taken back to camp to have their w
White Sunday VIIIIlike an ancient elder serpent godWhite Sunday VIIII3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
avatar of a darker spirit
slithering up from out of shadows
scale on cool stone, voice like the winds
passing through the drying grass
where once grew trees of life and light.
like a darker priestess, summoning,
waiting for the red and black to melt
and run together like blood and night
the knife left buried, deep and silent,
the violent path to penetrate a heart
no longer of value as you evolve
like fire in the depths of an ancient fen
where no one claims the spark that set
the moss and dead twigs to crackle
like the cackle of creatures in the black.
like the taste of lips and lilacs, warm,
The AngelThe little girl sat on a wooden swing in the park.The Angel5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Everyone was long gone.
The sun was setting and it was getting dark.
The street lamps flickered on.
She was tired and scared.
She thought nobody cared,
That she was sitting alone,
Still as a stone.
A boy her age
Walked up to her.
He held a cage
and in it
A tiny bird.
It glowed.
It shined.
He showed her.
And in time,
the sunlight cast down
in the tiny little town.
On the girl who thought
nobody cared.
She wasn't so scared.
Now that she took his hand.
She knew he cared,
as he made her stand.
And the three had flown
away
in the middle of the day
to the heaven
where
NesomnNesomn2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Lumini vineţii şi bolnave
Se ciocnesc între somn şi realitate.
Plutind pe nor argintiu
Şi alergând pe spini de trandafir:
Exact linia lor despărţitoare.
Şi mă înec în briză proaspătă de munte.
Şi urc pe valuri albastre şi verzi.
Şi zbor pe sub pământul negru.
Şi îmi rănesc ochii cu cioburi de cer.
Ajung la stele pentru a-mi da seama,
Pentru a observa veşnicia într-un strop pe o frunză,
Pentru a înţelege viaţa în dragoste şi ură,
Pentru a urî şi a iubi în acel
Floating.Floating, is the operational wordFloating.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To describe the effervescence
That erupts within my essence,
When you're around.
Floating, is the operational word
To communicate the highs
That are heaped upon my heart,
When you look at me.
Floating, is the operational word
To illustrate the pitter-pattering
Of my pulse's palpitations,
When you kiss me.
Floating, is the operational word
To expound upon the love
We so loyally live by,
When we fly above and beyond.
-01.07.10.
Your Never Alone4 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry
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marigolds and holding handstonight i'll dream of marigolds and the stars in his eyes,marigolds and holding hands3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the ones that match perfectly with mine because
he put them there.
he'll wear a tux and my dress will match his tie just
so that everyone else in the room can see that we're together,
with marigolds in my hair and his hand in mine.
but it won't be perfect because perfect is a fantasy so his tie
will be one shade too pale and i'll have one stubborn curl on
the right side- the one my mother gave me and
we'll walk- not dance because dancing is cliched
and even though i wish it weren't true
i have two left left, just like my mother.
he'll get my drink while i wait and talk to
He's A LookerHe's A Looker4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i may not be a romantic
i never bought you flowers
i never bought you candy
i could never afford fancy restaurants
i could never afford fancy gifts
and maybe i could have opened doors
more often or maybe threw my jacket
down onto a puddle so you could walk
over it and treat you like a princess
and maybe that's why you left
because you just wanted me to
care
but i don't know how to be the man you want
i was never much of a poet
i get nervous when i t
sam....it's a strange thing to love, she thinks to herself, even stranger when you find yourself in the thick of it with men who's eyes are the color of smoke or sea storms or strong wine, strange eyes that beg and plead a return, eyes that lie as well as bodies do, and heave and swell just the same.sam....2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
and when the most beautiful man comes calling under thick skies heavy with clouds and weeping the waters of the cosmos, the mahogany of his hair sticking in graceful loops to the rough-hewn ledger of his jaw and his cotton shirt gripping the breadth of his shoulders so well he might just as soon have no sort of shirt at all, it's all you can do to reme
12.19.the lost arm was of no consequence. as far as he could tell, as far back as he could remember and in all that he'd been told since, there had never been an arm to begin with. no one could recall his shingling of the roof, the tilling of the garden. he had the feeling in his fingertips (the fingertips that no one had ever seen before, that he could not remember, could not place there, past the ulna, all those tiny bones tipped in flesh and veins that had felt the thick loam and late spring soil he had always loved so much) that there had been lovers, masterpieces touched by his empty space and it was the memories, the lack thereof that he lame12.19.3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
i'm healingi'm sorry, but i cannot save you.i'm healing4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i can hardly save myself, cling to
the threads holding me together-
just barely that they could snap
i cannot stop the bleeding,
no matter how tight i hold
the bandages to your lightly
tanned skin. i just can't stop it.
i'm so fucking sorry, that you
asked me to hold you up while
i'm falling, falling, f a l l i n g
down that hole i dug myself into.
it's your own damn fault for mistaking
me for wonder woman when i can't
even catch the shooting stars that fall
from your eyes and wish it all to go away.
it won't ever go away, no matter how
many times you pray for it and ask me
(
I'm happy to be meYou need to change this and that, Why can’t you be more like this, people say,I'm happy to be me4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
But they don’t understand I like being this way.
This is who I’m suppose to be,
But that’s one thing most people can’t see.
They want me to change into something that is not me.
Why can’t they just let me be?
Its not like I’m hurting anyone,
But they don’t get that and after a while all I want to do is run.
I just wish all of this is one bad dream,
But I know its not and all I want to do is scream.
I don’t want to be like others, I just want to be me.
I know that they see, but they don’t want to believe,
Like colors Is one person truly just one? Well I can’t believe that. I am not contempt with that answer. Here is what I think:Like colors5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
With one person and all people there are many. Not to say that were all deranged and have a metal imbalance that cause multiple personality's.
More along the lines that people are very much like colors.
Not primary colors red, blue or yellow. More like secondary colors like orange purple and green. Colors that are mixtures of other colors that becomes another color.
When someone, is asked describe another person, they usually can list a few traits, chartists, to
Spam-box SatireSpam-box Satire6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Dear boric,
I'm sorry, I have no idea what a PUEF is. It sounds like a marshmallow brand... But the word weighty makes no sense. I mean, who wants to eat heavy marshmallows??? Please, never contact me again until you start making marshmallow brands that actually sound good. Consider just "PUEF". Don't Kill Yourself Over It.
~Stevie
Dear Anthony Ryan,
No, I would not like to be a "hero in a bed." Sure, every man has dreams of being a hero in bed, but in "a" bed? No, I definitely do not want to live my days inside of a mattress, no matter what the perks are!! I assume that I would save the denizens of the "inside world" from bed bugs and ot
Manhunt: A SatireManhunt: A SatireManhunt: A Satire9 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Let's hunt people! And why not? It will help control the population. We have seen it work for animals such as deer or ducks. The deer and duck populations have been controlled successfully for a great many years thanks to hunting season. With this, I would like to take the success of hunting wild animals to a new level by hunting humans.
The seasons for hunting varies, but I believe the best times to hunt humans would be in the summer. This allows for the game to have a fairer chance when they do not have to freeze cold of winter and they can find food easier than during winter seasons. Because the human if
NormalNormal: [nawr-muhl]Normal4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a word so frequently butchered by society, so constantly repeated, mutated, that it’s true meaning has been abandoned, neglected, disregarded.
Pretty: [prit-ee]
an adjective so commonly desired some would go to such great lengths to obtain it. Yet it’s definition, so easily forgotten.
Beautiful: [byoo-tuh-fuhl]
a term now reserved for the socially elite, the wealthy, the thin.
Skinny: [skin-ee]
a synonym for beautiful, tied like an anchor to those with recognition, forced down the throats of those who silently observe.
Society: [suh-sahy-i-tee]
a collection of opinions, ideas, and thoughts, a hypothesis
Sta.sh
