He was Only HumanHe was only humanHe was Only Human5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I watched through the muddy haze of rain as man fell to his knees, his breath misting the air in whips of white fog.
Even heroes could drown, they could be cut, and they could bleed.
But he was so much more than just a hero, perhaps he had forgotten how truly fragile life was. How fragile WE were, all of us, no matter how long we had survived. One day our time would run out, and we had to pay the fiddler.
When we die, what happens to the ones left behind? How do they cope?
We had come so far, how could it end like this?
From the day I had met him, the day he had saved me; my life had been about him. He could not be cut, though many had tried, and it was impossible for him to lose. Brave, strong men followed him. Brave men died.
He lived, no one could say how, he just did.
Was his invincibility a gift? He often saw it as a curse. I took it for granted, and after a time, I saw him begin to as well. When you cannot die, life loses most of its worth. A man who walks into
Sonnet IShe lives in the spaces between our breathsSonnet I4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
though we have never met for I am not
among the whispered words and kinder deaths.
Trap elegance beyond the realm of font,
a stricken raindrop I fell through gray soot
overflown with truth from an empty mouth.
Memories, childhood trod underfoot
Comfort me, sanctuaries still not found
Stone shattered teeth pray dance my broken legs
we dream through polluted skies far from eyes;
diluted lives construct beauty from dregs
So scar love in every city sunrise
and paint these lips the rose of blood blushed cheeks
smolder under skin, passion, never sleep.
your tears don't save a soul.[it took him 129 days to finally stop breathing without you there.]your tears don't save a soul.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on day 32, he bought flowers and slid them into a thin vase
on the windowsill. a petal fell off and floated to a silent rest
on the water's surface, and a single ripple weakly faded away.
he threw the flowers out that night.
on day 58, he woke from a nightmare, clawed at the pillow
your picture was on, and his fingernail snagged on the paper.
he gazed wantonly for a minute at the ragged shreds, then
promptly turned on his side and shut his eyes.
the torn-up paper drifted off into the cracks between the floors.
on day 99, he thought you came back, and he cried out in joy,
only to watch as the tears washed away the blurred image of you.
he clutched at the wadded up napkins in his hand, and teardrops
fell, blending into the many there before them.
he saw you again that night, and wished himself to wake up.
[on day 129, he lay six-and-a-half feet under the ground,
white daises scattered daintily around the freshly mounted
.Magnetic.//.Magnetic.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I watched you demagnetize,
the plastered on phrases of your affections slipped and slid;
down the bumpy linoleum,
I wasn't strong enough to hold your hopes up,
You arranged bright plastic letters with the haphazard care of a kindergartner learning her words,
a cascading waterfall of plastics and charged solenoid,
came to rest on leftover cheerios and forgotten noodles
Your refrigerator words were crowding my airways,
I feel like I am not enough for your unspoken needs.
I watched you drift,
farther... than I felt comfortable with.
and threatening to see the light of reality,
issuing from my lips with the cadence of thousands of ants,
I wanted to invite my sanity to join
I left it out in the cold
I cannot help but question your reality.
I find it passe and trite, that alcohol, cigarettes and the fake attentions of men can leave you so breathless.
I grew tired of trying to woo some semblance of your affections from my cellphone,
its 2 a.m. and I can hardly think about you without
Girl on the BusThe girl on the busGirl on the Bus4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
smiles like the first day of school
and I can't keep my eyes
off her hands
tucked in her lap
(maybe she is clutching winter).
I like her perfume,
how her hair
strikes up conversations
and that tiptoe wink
she balances on one finger
as I watch the world
on thin wheels.
Maybe she will love me
or let me bring her flowers,
trembling from a stranger's yard -
fragile as the road,
and dangle my heart
between her knees
and eat my poems
like a summer lunch.
AcidI stopped writing when I turned 20Acid4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
degrees Celsius, and the acid
evaporated from my veins.
No more stormy seas or dreams that
I can feel the erythrocytes crashing
against my eyelids and fistsnow
My heartbeat is like the hollow
canals of Venice drowning in air,
drains overflowing into drains,
Like abandoned gardens hanging
between bricked up dreams, built
six stories higher than I would ever need.
The Hard Work of PoetryPoets are constantly crippled, creatively. It's the way it works. You write a line and, just now, right now, it seems like it's the best line in the world to date. It's a shiny, beautiful line, a thought, an image so remarkably profound that you are in awe of yourself, or (if you are a seasoned poet) in awe of that angelic being which sits on high in your mind and occasionally drops little scraps of poetic manna into your head. Now, you only need to write a poem around it.The Hard Work of Poetry5 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Because the poem takes over, sprouts a million legs and scurries in directions you had no real intention of it going and now the Wondrous Line of Glory and Poetic Win doesn't fit. You have to either change it or take it out and save it for another poem. Or make it a haiku-like short poem on its own, so all those other words don't assault it again. If you're an experienced poet, you'll probably just store it in a .txt file or on a post-it note somewhere and lament it until you're old and nothing matte
snowstorms and polar tragedieswe are opposite ends of love's magnet:snowstorms and polar tragedies5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
repulsing to opposite ends of the map.
west, east, west, east, westwestwest.
if i wasn't lacking force,
i'd settle for the space
between your west hip
and east hip. but both
the coasts are flooding
from my eye's blizzards
(the weatherman says
it should last all week,
but i know he's lying.
my psychic predicted
three more decades)
Side A, Side B;
just friction in
its cruelest form.
You1 pushes me to
You2 pushes me to
if only physics were more charismatic...
A lesson in electromagnetism:
if one side is negative, the other is positive
A lesson in mathematics:
negative one plus positive one equals zero
A lesson in meteorology:
thirty degrees is not measured with calendars
but you do not teach me anything
applicable to reality, because with
you, who needs textbook real life.
A lesson in geography:
six hundred miles is not the same as six hundred miles
A lesson in geometry:
imprison my soul in a nuthouseScene I: Enter Apathy Asylum:imprison my soul in a nuthouse5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"What are you in for, this time?"
This is Joe, one of the regulars.
"Just the usual... my forbidden
fantasies. According to them."
Romance is a disease, after all.
Long distance is a side effect.
(and i've got all the symptoms
of a parakeet in handcuffs)
blame politics we're
in the wrong Cage
in a separate country,
a separate chamber,
a separate cellblock
cooing to canaries,
but being intercepted
by callous crows.
the guards remind you
the featherless can't fly,
and you're too broke to
afford a trip to Canada.
i'd fly northeast for the Summer
to spend a night in your ribCage
(such a perfect fit we would be)
i'd ride on your back, caressing
your wings; change your name
to Pegasus, and pretend you're
by my side instead of inside my
mind. but there i go again, and
"daydreaming is impolite. you
need ten more weeks in solitary
(this is what they call Emergency Treatmen
Summer's WingsWe dance in the blazing daylightSummer's Wings5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to the songs of the birds and trees,
we'd laugh and sing and cherish
every moment that we seize.
Our tired backs upon the ground,
and our faces to the sky,
arms around each other's necks
We watch the sunlight die.
We take the broken pieces of
the shattered morning sun,
to brighten up our blackest nights
once the darkness had begun.
To bring the fragments all together,
to watch its golden glow,
this feeling lives forever more,
come sun, moon, rain or snow.
We pick our way about the patterns
woven round the moon.
Claiming constellations when
the day was lost so soon.
All good things don't come to an end,
and for us our lights don't fade.
We'll sail upon this future path
until our day is made.
That fateful morn, our time will end,
laid in the field as one.
Hand in hand we'll bring together,
those pieces of the sun.
I'll never forget our field that day,
the sky a vivid blue.
And forever a kiss upon the air,
will whisper 'I love you.'
sincerely about loveIf I were to write sincerely about love,sincerely about love5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
you wouldn't see Iloveyouiloveyouilove you
scribbled and rescribbled all over the wall.
You wouldn't know of the hugs and the kisses,
the hellos and the goodbyes,
the promises and the whispers,
because if it's love
I won't be thinking about those things;
I would just let them happen.
If I were to write sincerely about love,
I'd cherish the silly things before all else:
caterpillars recreating themselves
behind closed doors,
carnations pinned to freshly ironed prom dresses,
months speeding by and blurring perceptions and colors
according to the pictures they represent on the calendar,
Yes, silly things that don't need to be reminded
their existence means something to me.
If I were to write sincerely about love,
I probably wouldn't be writing about it at all,
but implying it through the way I rhyme
rose stem with them,
silent city bus with us.
I'd most likely just say that I'm exposing an open wo
Hit the RoadLife is a road trip. We all start off somewhere with our own vehicle. Maybe it's an expensive car, one of those recent models that are all the rage lately. Maybe it's an affordable one: cost-efficient and doesn't take much maintenance. Anyway, everyone starts off in a different car. Can't forget other people though--they're the ones driving at first. You're just a passenger. You'll take up the wheel eventually (or, you know, not).Hit the Road5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
So, off you go. But wait--aren't you forgetting something? Like, maybe, where you're going? Eh. It might not really matter. Some people have a definite place they want to go. Others don't. It's up to you whether or not the destination matters. Some people just take the trip for fun. Those people usually go slow just to enjoy the trip. Those who go fast just want to get wherever they're going. They should be careful in places with lots of people though; the roads might be congested. Maybe it's rush hour?
You'll be going on a lot of road stops. Gotta take care
Written LoveItalic represents the inner depths of our emotions, an endless well of truth. Within lies the rawest image of the self, the naked reality of vulnerability, doubt and discovery.Written Love6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Will I ever find love? Am I destined to be alone forever?
It also depicts instant sparks of thought, blurted words mute to the world.
Shes cute! I wonder if she could ever like someone like me. Did she just smile back at me? Was she being polite, or ?
Bold equals bravery, chance and gamble; the lion heart in which shaky words express daring suggestions, challenging the fate of solitude.
Want to go for a coffee sometime?
Can I call you again?
Bold lettering calls for faith, hope and trust. Self esteem brings it out, jumping from the white of paper, but even the timid can brave life with its encouraging energy.
Underline is exclamation. It is the reaction to news, the call of passion or the declaration of triumph. It can be coupled with t
WonderlandRun from the monsters I create,Wonderland9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Indulge me with your childish fear;
Come to my wonderland you're late
I cannot leave if you aren't here.
In wonderland the sane are tortured,
With objects incomprehensible to the mind.
They run around until demented,
Come to me and be defined.
You are my chess piece in this game:
I'll move you with my puppets strings,
I'm the master; I'm insane;
You- my mindless wonderings.
In my wonderland there is no death;
You never really are alive.
You beg to me, I ask myself,
He kindly grants you suicide.
LoveBoyo I ever cross your mindLove6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
boy: Do you like me?
girl: Not really
boy: Do you want me?
boy: Would you cry if I left?
boy: Would you live for me?
boy: Would you do anything for me?
boy: Choose--me or ur life
girl: my life
The boy walks away in shock and pain and the girl runs after him and says...
The reason you never cross my mind is because you're always on my mind.
The reason why I don't like you is because I love you.
The reason I don't want you is because I need you.
The reason I wouldn't cry if you left is because I would die if you left.
The reason I wouldn't live for you is because I would die for you.
The reason why I'm not willing to do you anything for you is because I would do everything for you.
losing innocence to a strangeri remember:losing innocence to a stranger5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when my clothes fell
to your bedroom floor
i felt alive.
i felt complete.
i felt the warmth of your arms around me,
the taste of your lips embraced with mine;
mouth meets neck, hipbone meets
Dramione12: Don't You HesitateDramione12: Don't You Hesitate4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Oh, Don't You Hesitate
All bandaged up and strictly ordered to not make too much movements, Draco had very limited options on what he could do. He was bored and slightly less irritated. His right side hurt so damn bad, it was throbbing and he could feel it. He decided he was going to kill whoever the bastard was that did this to him, but he did keep in mind he was partially, just a little, at fault.
Hermione couldn't believe what she witnessed on the Pitch out there that day with what happened to Draco. She caught sight of him almost catching the Snitch and actually thought that Slytherin was going to win, but then the next thing she knew, people were making loud commotions and Draco was free falling to the ground. Her breath was caught in her throat when Harry finally caught him before he hit the ground.
She was on her way to the Hospital Wing to visit him
Dramione14: AccidentallyDramione14: Accidentally4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Accidentally in Love
Bewildered, Hermione jerked back, causing the fork and spoon on her plate to move and make small clattering noises. She didn't immediately respond to what he just said, but rather stared. Draco's smug look didn't falter and was kept consistent throughout their eye contact.
Breaking the silence, Hermione asked, "Why? You can feed yourself perfectly! You've got two hands in tact. Use them!" Shaking his head, Draco inaudibly chuckled to himself. "What?"
"You've forgotten," informed Draco. "I was hit on the right side. My right arm was also hit so it hurts to use it."
"For being the smartest witch of our age, you sure are unobservant, aren't you?" Draco raised his brows to this. "If you were observant, you'd know that I, Draco Malfoy, am right handed. Feeding myself with my right hand isn't an option and I fear that if I use my untrained lefty that I'll just miss my mouth and the food will simply fall on the f
I Am A Victim But I Am StrongI Am A Victim But I Am Strong5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
He won't bring me down
Not today, No, Not ever.
Because if i let him inside
I'd be allowing Him to win.
Since it happened, I feel so small,
So Broken, So fragile beneath
The memories that Violate my heart
The memories that Defile my soul
But i will NOT bend i will NOT break
i Will NOT crumble and become a
Victim to my own Self Loathing
That little voice in my head keeps
Whispering "You are damaged goods"
But that little voice will shut the
Fuck up, Because I'm worth more
Then a mans Sexual pleasure. I am
A human being not a Damn 'PLAY TOY"
I AM loved i AM strong i AM a victim
Of Rape But i WILL prove the world Wrong.
I AM strong.
the momentThere comes a pointthe moment5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Where you realise
A friendship broken
Never is repaired
Not to the point it was
There comes a point
Where you wish for
A time where you can
Get back what you had
To the point where you where
There comes a point
Where you know that
She meant more to you
Than you did to her
That is the moment when
Your heart breaks
An Unknown FlowerFrom the earth she stood bold and tall,An Unknown Flower5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Her wings spread out ready to stroll.
Protected by these well-built walls,
Her abode lonely and dark halls.
The winter winds, the freezing chill
Covers her with snow, her mind still.
Her voice so soft, a lullaby
Of one's grief and melancholy.
Her petals were once crimson red,
Turned to dusty brown hue of dread.
She would have flown again so high.
But she knows that this scheme may die.
She awaits for the light's gentle kiss,
Moments of paradise and bliss.
Full of glamour, she misses that,
When all heads turn and say, "Who's that?"
In the red carpet, there she strolls.
From the earth she stood bold and tall.