CourageThe world needs more courage.Courage10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Courage to fear.
Courage to hope.
Courage to hurt.
Courage to cope.
Courage to laugh.
Courage to cry.
Courage to live.
Courage to die.
Courage to love.
Courage to hate.
Courage to leave.
Courage to wait.
Courage to jump.
Courage to fall.
Courage to run.
Courage to crawl.
Courage to go.
Courage to stay.
Courage to work.
Courage to play.
Courage to fail.
Courage to try.
Courage to wish.
Courage to fly.
Courage to fight.
Courage to talk.
Courage to stand.
Courage to walk.
Courage to win.
Courage to lose.
Courage to dream.
Courage to use.
How to dismantle me.Hope to live,How to dismantle me.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Live to die.
Love to stay,
And stay to cry.
Sigh your last,
But never pretend,
To hope that hope,
To live again.
Se escribe heroe........Se escribe Heroe, pero se pronuncia IdiotaSe escribe heroe........6 years ago in Spiritual & Occult More Like This
Un día común, sin mucho que decir, me levante con el alba y me puse a reflexionar lo que avía sido de mi vida hasta esta mañana en que me levanto, y pensé, que no avía echo nada de valor en mi vida, me di cuenta que vivía como un animal, sin darle un sentido a la vida, simplemente vivía para ver un nuevo sol un nuevo día, y recordé algo que me hizo pensar, retrocedí en el pasado del mundo y me tope con una clase de personas muy únicas, unas personas que lucharon y dieron sus vidas para que las personas que vivimos el presente tuviéramos el sol de una nueva mañana, me detuve un momento recordando a estos "HEROES" y me di cuenta que todos eran personas comunes y corrientes, pero se destacaron por sus acciones por su valor por querer compartir un mensaje al mundo, recordé viejos relatos de combate y me di cuenta que avía cientos héroes que jamás fueron recor
Les Rues de ParisLes Rues de Paris12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Les rues de Paris beaming
their fields of market gardens,
lit rows of status shops
and musee musings clothed
in tree-lined urban-natura
and wind-wafted scents
of cinammon candles
or rosemary rich
arcing up in triumph,
sending me home
through neon metro portals
climbing upwards, then under
iron-twisted nouveau entries;
and on tired foot counting
to top floor hotel rooms
with mansard balconian
windows from which
I look to you--
In the soft Paris rain 'neath
hovering above a hint of red
wrapped 'round your neck
in woolen warmth shielding
the sting of the winter,
and the bite of the silence
drowned out from sirens
and car horns and horses
clopping down Place de Gréve
blurring out Doisneau's Kiss
in black and white memoir
framed over my mantle
back in America, 5000 away
where my dream was in focus--
Now I stare at the tailights
of your exiting taxi; dreams slip
from walls, picture frames shatter
The Friends of the ChampionThe Friends of the Champion4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Complete antidote to my last fiction, haha. This little bit of silly takes place long before the previous post when Kirkwall sat in the eye of the storm. Hawke and his companions enjoy the peace, unaware that - between them - it is they who will bring about its end.
Just a bit of stupid fun, but bitter sweet if you know what's to come ^_^
"Okay so - stop me if you've heard this one."
It's late, probably very late, in the Hanged Man. Cortland Hawke looks absently around the room, as if the time might just leap from the boarded walls and make itself known.
Heaving another draught from his tankard, the newly-dubbed 'Champion of Kirkwall' gives up any pretence of caring what time it is anyway and lets his head rest on his arms, his gaze moving toward the party's resident healer. Anders is holding court, having seemingly nominated himself as entertainer for the latter part of the evening in the absen
PoetryI found meaningPoetry10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In words so unspoken,
And the places
No eye catches.
In the shade of behemoth movement,
Watching a life
Behind the borders of mind,
Without a breath or word
A reason to question the air above my head.
How I breathe
And am held down,
And crawl through forests
Still as the sky.
And listen to what was always there
Between branches and channels,
Learn from each
To know yourself.
And the one's you would surrender it all for.
Continue with that emblem
Out of corners.
Make the road your own.
Forget each curve
And listen in silence.
There we find answers that we only dreamed to know.
Furthest Flow - Prologue PrologoFurthest Flow - Prologue5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Imaginen ver una hoja en blanco o un lienzo de pintura sin haberse usado.
Ahora piensen que están parados ahí dentro y lo más que alcanza uno a hacer es voltear para cualquier lado sin ver más que el espacio vacío que les circunda. Ni siquiera pueden observar el propio contorno de ustedes, es como estar desnudos e invisibles a la intemperie.
Bueno, así me encuentro ahora. Podía haberme sentido de mil formas en ese momento, pero en mi no había reacciones, ni sensaciones. Era como ser un punto muerto y ya, un punto .que comenzó a surgir de pronto entre aquella inmensidad. Su presencia hizo que surgiera en m
In My Own Little WorldIn my head I'm in my own little world.In My Own Little World4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A beautiful guy and, rarely, a handsome girl.
I swim in the clouds and fly in the sea.
Roaming or in chains, I'm always free.
No storms rain down on my parade.
No colors on leaves ever fade.
Flowers grow higher when down comes the snow.
And everyday there's a great big rainbow.
In my little world no secrets to hide.
And by my own laws can my life abide.
Free to be me and no one to stop it.
I have my bubble and no one can pop it.
Freely liking whomever I choose.
No drowning in sadness or hiding behind booze.
No one to tell me that my life is wrong.
No one to say that in Hell, I'll belong.
Hate"I hate you."Hate4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Klaus smirks, sucking more fumes from his cigarette. It floods his lungs, coating them in a thin layer of comfort, before exhaling. The calming chemicals linger, though, and that's what he's after.
"Love you too," he replies, sarcastic, obviously not thinking about what Ben is really saying; not thinking, or just not caring.
"I mean it," Ben says, voice heightening slightly from Klaus' nonchalance.
Klaus rolls his eyes and flicks his dying cig off the roof. He doesn't need to look to see the thin, glowing trail as it falls; it's a brief thing, and he doesn't care for those things any longer.
He leans back against the roof, lingering warmth of the tiles against his back. Ben is diagonal to him, on his left side, sitting huddled by one of the many chimneys. Klaus can just make out his figure, cloaked in his dark uniform; his hair, though, catches the moonlight, making it easier to distinguish.
"And why, pray tell me, do you hate me now?" Klaus drawls out, remnants of smoke
WomanhoodI was seventeen when I first understood what it was to be a woman. It wasn't the moment years before when I began my period. It hadn't been the instant in which a boy first touched his lips to mine when I was twelve. It wasn't when I put on my first prom dress, or the first time I wore heels. I knew that women had breasts, and men did not; men were taller, and stronger than women; women were fairer and meeker than men. That was the way things were, and always had been. I was born and raised to accept those facts, and that is exactly what I had done.Womanhood9 years ago in Open More Like This
I watched the deep, crimson blood drop and fan out in the water beneath me. It was like dropping food dye into oil, or dropping paint onto wet paper. It spread through the basin, dancing slowly over the white porcelain boundaries. My hips and legs and stomach ached for the fourth day in a row despite following the directions of countless concerned friends. "Drink water", "avoid salt", "exercise", they said. I had shaken three cylindrical br
EverythingSoft rustle of dead leavesEverything6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
follows bristling breeze;
stillness frees necessities
in a melting blushing-sun.
Sweet bells slightly tinge
Colombian, freshly brewed,
set aside on an oak-made taboret.
Sweat, as real as love,
gently cool by giving-in.
Nothing, as it seems.
His MemoryI was too young to remember;His Memory6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
maybe I still am.
But somewhere hidden,
under layers of wax,
it still burns.
False Providence TangledFalse Providence5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the lost souls
of never forever.
The drifting endless
Out-Patient Tanka1Out-Patient Tanka6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
cold air wracks my lungs-
having tea in the
after my scan
a blind woman-
and I forget my pain
for the nurses' station
I bring cookies
anxious to park,
to accepting fate
in a private ward
in the bowels
of the hospital,
I drop off
jars of my urine
their Christmas tree
is still up
Headphones and ExpansionHeadphones and Expansion9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am the soles of his shoes, I must like the feeling of my cheeks
against the gravel, he presses my jawline in
hard, I keep coming back in an attempt to pluck out
each pin shaped stone. There is not much inside apart from old cogs
and plastic tubes that twist around my spine,
something burrows into my stomach and sits,
clattering as I breathe and I have to keep on hushing it up
as its fingers start to pull my ribs apart
so the world can eye my heart up, open like empty drawers,
so I can walk around with my pores unfastened
spilling out everywhere.
I did not mean to crawl so far into his jean pockets
because I knew it would be so hard to wash my skin
out of their fabric. He is like a two AM fire alarm, loud
and I must heave my body up and stumble down the stairs,
'it's too cold to stand outside with all these half-asleep students
at this time in a morning, will you let me back in?'
He makes it rain and my eyelashes do not make good window screen wipers
There's a boo
-Poem- An Angels' TearsAn Angels tears,-Poem- An Angels' Tears6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A Demons lies
By inevitable ties
Ties of strings,
Invisible to the eye
No time to cry
Through body and soul
No time together,
Her body turns cold
Darkness engulfs her,
White wings turn black
Shes leaving her life,
Theres no turning back
Abandoning her God,
For one of darker sorts
Choosing for love,
Her life is cut short
Betrayed by her love,
Her one and only fear
He crushed her life,
And no one can hear;
An Angels tears
wager of war --first draft--i.wager of war --first draft--5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You are no Goliath,
strong as you may be
Your footsteps are not pathways
for those who obscure the frontal lines
with courageous words obeyed by sons
who are not their sons.
You do not measure victory
by the distance you throw your stones,
for it is never about the body count.
It is only about the stones,
and the stories they leave untold.
You are no wager of war,
ordained only by the highest bidder;
your words are more than the ground
that moves beneath stomping feet
Perhaps you share likeness to David;
greeter of the open challenge, writer of hymns,
a humble warrior, steadfast where your feet
last touched the battleground.
Pick up your pen; the sword will never
be your strongest ally. Metal corrodes,
but what you put to paper will outlive you.
You are fit to lead the way
Goliath never will, for
you do not waste words the way
others waste their souls
You are the peacemaker
carving into stone ideals that
will not wash away like blood.
I Caught a ButterflyI caught a butterfly, colored green with silky wingsI Caught a Butterfly6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
which was not afraid, but that was mean. Such a human thing.
Delicate being, was not meant for glass made jar,
still it flew around, a couple of times, just to flaunt, and thus
I shook that cruet, to let it soar, just a little bit nothing more,
felt like such a brute. Still not sure though why,
cause how can you tell one delicate butterfly
colored green, with silky wings, that its the most
September haiku setbarn catsSeptember haiku set5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
sleeping in the shade
hawk carefully watching
the rusted car
the mowing of the greens
roses twice as bright
on a rainy day
the weeks first sunlight
shining on the trash truck
EmilyI loved her inside letters, I tuckedEmily7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my hearts and my organs inside of her
messy scrawl, her heartache, her doodles
of lost girls, of black cats, of razors and
pills. I sealed myself, my fate, I sent it to her:
Three stamps, and a kiss, always
with pearl-pink lip gloss. It would fade in the mail,
traveling 5000 miles
to her door, but I did not
care and the doves inside
my chest dared to break out.
I loved her inside letters,
I tucked her pain inside my art.
I filled my envelopes
with sadness, pieces of my hair,
my strange secrets,
my broken stories.
It rains six days of the weekThe sky touches itself at theIt rains six days of the week6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
waist, and bows sunlight through my window.
A week of washing its floors, until
finally we are clean enough. You
slept and I touched my eyelashes to
your shoulder, which rose into the air
like a tiny mountain.
My worst nightmare:
you are walking away
and my voice is not even a telegram.
I ask where you've gone and they reassure me-
you unraveled in their hands,
trailed out of the window,
too fluid to gather.
Yesterday, upon waking,
you mimed goodbye
over the covers.
Your arms tightly at ease, looking like
you slept somewhere you weren't supposed to. If love is
jealousy then I suppose
I'm upside-down with guilt. Even
on the top of my head,
I could read you, like a newspaper with the
ink still wet and morals
drying on every page. We
were laughing as I kept
gravitating towards your open mouth,
half-afraid it would take wing
and fly from the room, already black
It rains six days
out of the week. No one is
bending over for us, anymore.
That which is never controlledThat which is never controlled6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Amongst all of our shadows we carry
There is one that becomes oblivion.
Able to be touched; it lurks around our souls.
You can never choose the hand that reaches it,
And you will never have the power to control it.
It moves fast and slow,
Like a flame that one can never banish with a single whisper.
This oblivion known as everlasting love has been grasped upon by the strongest hands by far.
It feels as though he has chosen me, but oh how much I feel as though I have chosen him.
Even through the darkest ashes I would search for his hand.
Once you find your eternal warmth in anothers palm, you then see the battle ground to which you then must let go in order to crawl through the webs.
You question if its real, if you can go on
As you see his gentle smile telling you to hold on,
As your legs get caught and your body becomes frozen,
You feel his warm breath on your ear pleading you to fight for this love.
Yes this love that you know is there and if my eyes havent sa