Reality is Stranger than Fiction “Come one, come all, to Thomas’ Traveling Freak Show! Be amazed by the bizarre sights. We promise you won’t be disappointed.” A man in a red suit called out through his megaphone. He had to use it or else he would have been drowned out by the noise of the carnival.Reality is Stranger than Fiction1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
A woman by the name of Amelia heard this and was both intrigued and amused. She had been to freak shows before, and they were just people in costume. To her, it was just a waste of money.
“You, madame,” the man in the red suit pointed his cane at Amelia, “would you like to step inside? There is many a strange thing inside this tent.”
“Sorry, but I do not want to see people in costumes.” She said this in a flat voice. The man rolled his eyes. It was clear he had gotten this reaction before.
“It’s only five dollars; everything you’ll see is real.&
Happiness vs. DepressionThe way we view the world is based upon what we feel;Happiness vs. Depression3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it doesn't matter if those feelings are good or bad.
Yet they have different effects on how we live our lives.
The mind can be clouded,
especially in the darkest of times.
Everything feels as if it's spinning out of control.
Everything that you try to get yourself out of it doesn't work,
you just keep falling deeper,
until you feel as if you have reached the bottom.
The one thing that can raise you out of this living Hell is a single beam of light.
A warm Summer's day's gentle rays,
coming down onto your face.
The laughter of children at play.
And most of all,
Though happiness can cloud your mind,
it's not the same as Sorrow's way.
Instead you find the drive to not only survive,
but to go above and beyond;
When in total bliss,
life shows itself in ways no one could ever imagine.
Answers to life's persisting questions are uncovered,
every piece to the puzzle are at last reclaimed.
And over all,
I survivedIn agony and pain,I survived3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I picked up my knife,
my bare blade.
The longer I held it in my grasp,
the faster my heart began pound.
Pointed at my heart,
tip against my chest.
But before force was applied I heard a voice,
a voice inside my head.
In desperation it cried out,
reminding me of what I would have lost if the choice was made.
I could be anything.
I could pursue the calling I desired,
my life was just about to start,
but I couldn't be anything if I were lying in a grave,
buried deep below the ground.
That moment my heart made the choice.
laying my bare blade on my desk to retire.
On the ground I lay,
motionless as tears fell onto the floor.
Feelings that were never felt before consumed the moment,
and the drive to survive.
On that day a vow was made,
and since then life has never been the same.
Here I am looking back on that moment,
but now I smile.
Here I am now,
glad that I survived suic
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 Poetry4 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
my severed life1 "Sara, time to wake up." Maranda rocked me back and forth gently.my severed life13 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"No!" I used all of my strength to roll myself back over. "I need to sleep; besides it's a Saturday." I heard her sigh. She started to tap her foot. My eyes widened but I brushed it off of my- never mind. She always tapped her foot when she was either impatient or plotting something. I heard her walk out of the room. I smiled and closed my eyes again. But then I heard a running faucet.
"Maranda?" My voice cracked. "What are you doing?" She didn't answer me.
Goddamn it! I bet she's going to dunk me into a tub of ice water!
I felt a pair of hands lift me off of the bed. I stared at her. Her empty shoulders where paler than the rest of her; especially the place where I used to be. Her hands were cold. My eye twitched.
"Maranda I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won't do it again!" It wa
A Mother's Worst Nightmare "Take a deep breath, Isabel," her mother said, stroking her daughter's hair as they gave her the numbing agent, "you'll be sleeping through the whole thing." Isabel looked up at her mother. Her eyes were red and tears rolled down her face.A Mother's Worst Nightmare3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Momma, I'm scared."
Her mother touched her daughter's cheek, "Isabel, you have to be strong. There's no other way; this must be done." A tear dripped down from her cheek. She touched Isabel's forehead with her own. "I love you so much; I only want what's best for you."
"Momma, they told me they're going to keep me awake so that they can make sure that I'm alright."
Mary, Isabel's mother, always wanted another daughter. She always wanted to hear two little, happy girls running through her house. She was grateful for having Isabel. She went through hell and back to get Isabel. The only way for her to have a child was to adopt. It see
headless people hate pumpkins They looked over and saw a woman. At first they thought nothing of it; a woman who staggered a little bit wasn't an uncommon thing. After taking a second look their jaws dropped. Their eyes bulged.headless people hate pumpkins3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
One pointed and whispered, "That woman, she's- she's-"
"Shhhh!" The other hissed, "We don't want to loose a costumer." He cleared his throat and walked up to her. She was wandering over to the farm stand when he stopped her.
"Madame, may I interest you in a pumpkin?" He pulled her by the arm and dragged her over to the pumpkin patch. He chattered while being oblivious to the fact that the headless woman who he was pulling over to see the pumpkins was trying to free herself from his grip. Poor dear, he thought to himself, without a head she cannot think clearly. I doubt she can even see and hear! No matter how hard the woman tried to break free it was no use; his grip was too tight.
Distant drumsOnce upon a midnight clearing,Distant drums4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
a distant sound was nearing,
it sounds clearly through the night,
but that distant sound is out of sight
The sound of bare feet,
keeping in tune with the distant beat,
the distant beat of pounding drums,
growing louder as the army comes.
Back from war,
marching down the distant shore,
the deed is done,
and the battle is won.
You have to learn to love yourself (poem)It's the hard truth, and this truth hurts.You have to learn to love yourself (poem)3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sometimes you must be there for yourself
Because no one else is there for you.
Be there for you, be your hero.
Be there, when you feel like zero.
You want to be in a hero's arms.
Because you have failed to embrace yourself.
Embrace yourself now, hurting one.
It's the only way to live.
Embrace yourself, like it's freezing cold.
Hold yourself close when no one will.
No one says you're beautiful.
No one says they care.
No one says that you aren't worthless.
You blame them for how you feel.
How do you feel now?
Do you resent yourself?
How do you sleep with self hatred?
How do you feel now?
Are you restless?
Please put pain to rest now.
the bridethe bride3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
body of mountain, cream and concrete
peeling paint - you are rosacea
defined, crackle skin I run my fingers under
and crush between my teeth. taste of
salt and soil, of burdening years
that rub water in your joints. precious
blessed bridge beauty, breathing heat
and sweating rain, you darling
that shakes, and shakes, and remains.
when I am ash and shadow, wax
for the candlemaker, you'll stand still
silent, soft strain-taker, train-carer,
and hold my love poems
in your cold stones.
Titus' BioName: TitusTitus' Bio3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Breed: Tin soldier
Age: 4 years
Gender: technically genderless but prefers to be identified as male.
Height: 75 mm (3 inches)
Background: Titus was animated by Victoria after she found him lying in a gutter in one of the many streets in London. He was at first shocked to find himself being held by Miss. Clemins, whom he calls "Mistress Clemins," and being watched by Sally, the first toy Victoria ever animated. He is the general of an army of toy soldiers and obeys Clemins' commands, but Titus is a more of a close friend than servant.
Likes: Mistress Clemins, Sally, his army, reading, feeling important, being of service, nice and respectable people, his friends, puppies, and the color pink.
Dislikes: People challenging his leadership, insults, being ignored, people who seek to harm others, and people who pose a threat to those who he swore to protect.
Love interest: Sally
Other: he has white hair and a mustache
FatherFather,Father4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
oh how I miss you.
don't you know how much I care?
But yet here I am alone,
my tears feel cold against the air.
You've chilled me to the bone.
As I cry in my room,
I curse you,
yet I love you still.
Oh how I wish to hear you one more time,
I still have so much to say.
I'm sorry that you couldn't love me,
I'm sorry you couldn't love my sister.
But that doesn't change the fact,
the fact that we're your children.
I love you,
yet I hate you,
I can't decide!
Why did you do it?
Why? Why?! WHY?!
Why did you disown us?!
Is it because...
Sonnet 34Unto Gullveig I pour this libationSonnet 342 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Bright shines the golden goddess of witches!
Hind'ring the All Father's aspirations
And his lust for magic, pow'r, and riches
To seize Vanaheim he rallied the gods
In outrage of your rebellion they fought
He thought himself bold, but his plan was flawed
Odin would learn the sorcery he sought.
Thrice the Aesir bound and burned you at the stake
And thrice you arose stronger than before
In fear of the Vanir Odin did quake
And swore the Aesir would fight them no more
Gullveig's sacrifice brought peace to Asgard
Reborn as Heid, Divine Seer battle scarred
Silva of EnlightenmentSilva of Enlightenment4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Two years ago I stumbled upon a group of what I thought of the time to be naturalist out in the middle of a forest on one of the small hunting paths. It seemed as though the town was settled in a large, natural grove that was kept neat by the occupants. I noticed one of the people, a farmer I guessed by his dirt covered attire, eyeing me as if wondering should he approach. I smiled fondly and waved him over. This man, as he later told me of the age of fifty-six, came galloping over to my side, bouncing over small ferns and tree stumps. I was astounded by his enthusiasm! His beard, long and grey, his hands calloused from year of hard work, and the many of joyous wrinkles around his eyes gave him a look of someone older then he was.
"How oddly gay this man seems to be!" I thought to myself.
"Welcome traveler! You seem slightly bewildered by our small establishment that you find yourself upon. Come, let us walk, and I shall tell you how we came to be!" I remember his voice, fu
Prayers for OdBear him safely home, O Heimdall.Prayers for Od2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Let him fly and land.
Guide him gently o'er the rainbow
By your soft, white hand.
Let him forgive any misdeeds
Which drove him away,
And when he's in my arms again,
Let him never stray.
Share your vantage, esteemed Watchman,
From Asgard above,
For when we go our sep'rate ways,
He shan't lose my love.
The Madwoman in the AtticPoor, sweet creatureThe Madwoman in the Attic3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She can only hurt herself behind locked doors
She is ill
She is sick
She must be quarantined
For her own good as well as others'
She couldn't handle the excitement of my world
But if I keep her locked away
No one has to know she is the company I keep
No one has to hear her weep
Her mind cannot be saved
But I can save her soul
That is why I care for her
More a ward than a lover
My bride need never learn of her
This unchaste lunatic in the attic
Poetry in MotionThey call it poetry in motionPoetry in Motion5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
When the lines flow one after the other
In endless eddies through the tide of rhymes
To make their own little song each time.
They call it life in motion
When the time slips by in a daze
And you forget that today was yesterday
And tomorrow is on the way.
They call it love in motion
When two people reach out and hold hands
And tell the world that whatever they believe
The two of them were meant to be.
They call it hope in motion
When the broken and the beaten smile
And stand up tall, becoming strong
Through right and wrong.
They call it courage in motion
When one man dares to stand against the crowd
And stand with the innocent victimised
With undisguised, distinguished pride.
They call it dreams in motion
When someone finds the courage inside them
To set the ball rolling down the road
And follow wherever it goes.
They call it humanity in motion
When someone takes the hand of a crying child
And sings to them, to ease their fears,
To somehow end th
DawnDawn2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
How dawns the morn so very bright and bold
that night's dark face can only turn away;
and all our dreams in sunlit skies are sold
as eventide gives pardon to the day.
She feels the cloak of dreams unclasp their sway
and fading softly spun into the gold,
that she will rise from sleep and make her way
ere morning grows another second old.
Gathering DarkGathering Dark3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
the sun has a smile
angry - weeping - red passion
the sky wears a grin
Letters to Walter the Bear1Dear Walter,Letters to Walter the Bear13 years ago in Letters More Like This
The kids love you and miss you; they were very sad to hear that you went home. They will be looking forward to your letters. Will you come and visit us some time? They'd be overjoyed to see you and to hear about the adventures you've had.
Messages from the kids~
My cat loves you Walter. ~ Julian
I love you ~ Avery
I love you Bear ~ Emily
I want to see you ~ Lillian
I hope I can kill you and drink your blood and eat your meat ~ Lillian
On second thought, you might want to wait on visiting...
Love, your friend
A Boy's Best FriendA Boy's Best Friend7 years ago in Horror More Like This
Neil was thought of as weird by the other kids at his High School; he wasnt interested in going to parties or much about girls. He lived in a small town in Texas surrounded by wide desert scrub and narrow minds. Although he was always alone, he was never lonely he had his little friends. Neils friends werent the kind of friends most other kids his age had, his had far too many legs for one thing.
Neil was a scorpion enthusiast, and kept many of the eight legged critters in the abandoned gas station on the edge of town that he had specially converted and secured as his parents wouldnt allow him to keep his precious pets anywhere near the house and he was worried about jackasses from school harming them. Of all of them, one was his favorite. A fat eight inch male emperor scorpion. His glistening black chunky carapace, heavy looking stinger and huge claws made him look like the stuff of most peoples nightmares, but Neil could handle him with ease,