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.
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.
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
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
That HumAs I look at her, with her beautiful honey hairThat Hum6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my lungs feel colder than my head. With each bruise
the cr-creak at my feet grows louder and louderan dlouder
and that void filling hum in low lectric tonesss -
if I had arms to hug, or ears to hear, I would
I would definitely
fall in love.
the city is a mouththe city is a mouth4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
says this is
my last cigarette
TortoisesOut the shell the neck' so thinTortoises5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that breaking would not be an evil
act, but mercy by a gesture friendly
as if betwixt a thumb and finger,
the slowly push of fiends together,
mashed into a creamy mixture.
They say not ready we begin:
our filling too soft, and so raw
if squeezed would leak.
But if atrocities they do not know,
then No. They will retract back into
their tortoise-shell and speak stay.
As night-time comes and lingers
day sustains in a denial's frozen-stasis,
for us, also she says, for us, with them.
Must always we be far-damn-right,
with our marches, parties, propagandic-prides,
as if once-again we cannot trust
that voice inner, that whisper calmly.
All that we've done repeats and repeatedly
admits us through.
Out of the shell the neck is so thin
that to break it would not be an evil act
but the mercy of a friendly gesture,
as if holding it between a thumb and a finger
and slowly push the two together,
mashing it into a beautiful mixture.
ouroboros.ouroboros.3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
White and gold still dressed her spine.
Those chains and gems criss crossed her shoulder blades in absent patterns, slung across her skin with a careless air. She was a creature of laces. Lace. Cream coloured filligree. And in this new home that didn't yet feel like hers,
she felt so small
alone on her wedding night with only years upon years of flowers to keep her company.
Arehtet went to the window and pushed it open, let it yawn wide open like the maw of the manticore. Her perfume called, white smoke with the lull of desert roses and dragon's blood on its tongue of deceits. She pulled her veil back and she blinked.
This kingdom could fit in the palm of her hand. She reached out. Closed her fingers around all those twinkling lights and crushed them to the dust of an hourglass.
The night wasn't so dark.
But it was vast.
The halls of Caeronvar Rock echoed under his feet as he stalked through them, gold softly clinking against his wrists and chest.
They called it the Rock and that was e
Furthest Flow - Prologue PrologoFurthest Flow - Prologue6 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
Don't fall in loveI'm sunkDon't fall in love5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
With poison darts;
The mercurial blood-sap.
Under the BedPapa! she calls. Through half-closed eyesUnder the Bed6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I try to focus - so tired. My lips move by themselves,
mumbled words slipping softly Yes, dear. Im here.
Papa! Come fast! Its there!
My feet shuffle automatically as I enter her room. Looking around,
the corner is empty; so is her closet and under the bed.
Honey, theres nothing here. Yes there is! It called my name!
What does it look like, dear? I sit, trying to understand.
It got black eyes, and mustache, long teeth and hairy hands!
Speaking hisses, go - rawr! And its still calling my name
Does it hide in your closet? No
Is it under the bed? Does it jump, blowing bubbles,
speaking French, clapping hands?
Papa! shes angry. Thats not funny at all. A monster is hiding
and its dark, and its tall, and its scary and mean! Papa,
-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
JugularAnts keep together in disorderlyJugular6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
double and triple file
as the jugular of their procession
creeps through the undergrowth,
their skeletal bodies
rapidly glint from the light
that finds its flickering way
through the forest canopy,
every antennae and leg in motion
waving placards, a savage haul
floating on a living ocean...
razors and bottle caps,
beetle pincers and thighs,
the arm off a pair of eye specs,
and shoelace tips on the side
to share with moldy leaves
found with rotted gizzard of
striped, spotted poisonous lizard
that had dined on them yesterday-
all parading past tomorrow's
repast if any should fall today
from their roost or a perch,
to squirm and slowly die away
for the determined horde
to gather all they have room
and hoist what they can afford,
returning to the community womb.
Haikuthon July 2009Haikuthon July 20096 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
gnarled tree roots
stretch down into the pond
resting for a spell
a thousand flags
whip in the wind
praying for profits
in the cool building shadow
in the distance
beyond the looming storm —
hint of orange dusk
a golden half-moon
hangs near distant streetlights
amid gentle rapids
an old tire
over waves of tall
First Lovei.First Love5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
rows of fairy lights rope
towards the turbulent city
Warm evenings, playing in the park,
till your mam came shouting .
Every night of summer.
You never cared how different we were.
Toilet paper decorates leafless trees and
your lungs fill with newly discovered smoke as
You admire your handiwork.
The sexes split. You tease
the girls for attention.
Those amber lights merely rows
upon rows of ugly terraces all designed by the same architect.
We never talk.
You were seen
with your hands
down her trousers
tomorrow you will blame intoxication.
Under the red skies, we exchanged memories like
veterans warmly recalling fallen friends. Swings rocked
in the winds, squeaking slowly sharing our dynamic;
juxtaposed on that faithful bench. You told me you hated what
you had become.
Red turned grey turned black,
drizzle soaked our skin.
You held me close as we walked
back to your house--
It wasn't your first time
I ignored the pain.
You never visit the park anymore.
Reflection.We fuck next to the haunted lakeReflection.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with mirror-ocean eyes. It mutters as it watches our
whispers, hears our stifled cries in the dark.
Morning comes with a weak
peering sun, hesitant fingers brushing
the edges of the sky. I sit
with my legs in the water, watching
you pack your bags and drive on home, rattling by
in your cherry red car that shatters
the blue miasma hanging like a ghost
across the lake, a fog that rolls across the reeds.
Ripples stream away from my knees.
I write letters in the air to my lover back home
in Australia, who probably dreams vivid red-pink-love scenes
alone in the darkness. I stare at nothing.
My bags lie on the front porch, packed
with a bunch of flowers sitting on top, the orange fan
a smile, a sneer that screams: How! Could! You!
I dont know how.
Sharp lancing pain, a soft plea.
Dont stop. Dont stop! The lake lies quiescent,
but it hides demons that spring
and seize. They capture my whirlin
Saint PaulWe are female, we are flammable.Saint Paul6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Feathered cologne reeks of skies and miles
It makes us retch;
Us skeleton girls with smoking bones.
I do not care for birds-
the jackdaw and wren.
They locked us underground, grave girls.
We were interred, soil filling our ears;
our cotton, our stuffing.
Earth worms whispered-
"These skeleton trees do not belong,
they will soar past things that are built
they will grow spiny, dry and yellow
sick, sick to the sky.
They will only care for the height."
We were buried amongst scholars and kings,
Us poets, we Queens, below the birds.
I do not care for their creations;
They are the reason we have no flesh-
picking our eyes, fresh and fine,
the best of the crop, our drooping eyes.
They saw them, globular like eggs
and took, cuckoos, to raise as their own.
They wish their young were as green.
Haikuwrimo - Feb - 2009Haikuwrimo - Feb - 20096 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
behind gray cloud;
without a shadow.
fast approaching- rivers drown-
fall on blades of grass-
breaks winters silence.
all in vain- rains pour
from all directions.
a crystalline stream and green meadow
before the hurricane.
the only fruit of winter;
life has written on her face
heavy, drove cattle
down the mountain
dressed for death-
fall like angels
macabre as they fall,
cadence of clouds
plovers fly over-
One Day NewsMrs. Shahar calls this a classroom but we all know it well enough to be a bomb shelter. Thirty small naïve eyes stare at a beautiful journalist on the old television, long brown hair and expensive suit. She reports that a terrorist blew himself up in Beit Lid junction, just a five minute drive from our school. It happened at the big bus station, gray and dirty for so many years, so close its amazing we didnt hear the blast. Although its frightening Im not afraid at all, just glad that there wont be any more classes today.One Day News6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
The camera focuses on her make-up, curly black eye lashes and powdered cheeks. "Four people died," but all I can hear is "no math homework checkup." She says "authorities are still withholding names," and I hear "no math homework tomorrow either." Then she starts telling the whole thing over again, all the little bits of information the route of infiltration, the name of the bomber, a description of the ar