Textbook RomanceTextbook Romance9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The beginning was sweet as any other,
Fresh with the smell of new-book.
It was as paradise.
I would serve thee seven years,
But it seemed mere days,
For the love I had to you.
Yet you sought to beguile me,
And through all of the time,
I was yet deceived.
As Aesop's lion I bared all,
A forfeit of my weapons,
I shed my defenses.
And still y
a bird in the skya bird in the sky9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
my heart is a bird in the sky
flying on the winds of love
soaring in the warm sunshine
of true beautiful bliss
AloneAlone9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
if i were to die
and leave the world
to carry on would be foolish
in a loveless lonely way
has life lost its colour to me?
off my head on my thoughts
i stop to think am i selfish?
Silently a part of me agrees
i wish depression, the firey ghost
would deposses my body
and be exocised from my soul
so i can stop the slow eating
and dissolving of myself
sick of feeling this way
i want to stop, get off the ride
escape from this nightmare
that has become my life
and make something beautiful
just to see if i can....
...if i still can
inspirational incongruityinspirational incongruity10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
awaken me from this nightmare
a chance to relive my mistakes
in painful reality i surrender
out of anger flies tranquility
screaming lights make eyes cry
distorted sounds make ears bleed
warped senses make bodies collapse
a head trip to watch out for
incongruity shapes the world
nothing fits, everything unique
timeless counts of configuration
lifeless times of misunderstanding
manipulation of world knowledges
i hate the imperfection
seemingly scheming doubts
gnawing away at spinal thoughts
jargon jarring the minds
of trained analytics, placed
to throw the pragmatical sense
this cryptic rhymless rythem
depression runs free
optimism asks a question
if to remain morbid
to be called depressing
or to smile and suffer
to be overlooked, with disinterest
life runs a crooked course
with no map to guide
till the end is reached
no one can know where they go
TrustTrust9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Trust is a sensual demon:
always taking, never teasing me awake,
but comforting me regardless.
You have taken a finger to the honey-pot:
chosen to spoil the clarity of comfortable perception,
and spilt my purpose.
Search out the clue to silence:
investigate the drive to talk,
and find a way to regain comfort.
Pinnacles of PerfectionPinnacles of Perfection9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The weather is changeable, and full of fruit:
a zesty tang to carve the edible cradle of trees.
Green hued pianists fingertips nimbly dance,
infatuated twigs lust for a young bud
and, when achieved in woody splendour,
plush green embellishment, ever upwards turned.
The youth drenched weed gazed in earnest wanting,
encrusted within his stamen was an anarchists mantra.
Calm the release to trust of life's dangerous procreatives,
mistrust the signposts and lose the generation.
Hearts are inept to emotive confusion,
yet each excretion of sound plays with youth's deafening muscle.
Startled, the truth-raven ruffles feathers to pristine clarity,
suffering in quiet subtlety the bravery of the young.
Erections of wisdom push out of his womb,
lines formate rubbing his eyes, exhibiting the progression of life.
Follow the bend and swirl of the branches,
and evaluate the weight of delicate caresses.
Drink Nectar from the war torn leaves,
they stand swift as masculine flowers and love with hearts wid
Baby BoyBaby Boy9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
grasping for the untouched stone:
The Demons of Icy NightThe Demons of Icy Night9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The icy night drew calming silence
from the branches ripped and bare -
poor mother, grieving for her son,
knowing demons grip him there.
Gentle Man at RestGentle Man at Rest9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Stooped and haunted, the gentle man at rest
sleeps soundly, undisturbed, in Sunday best,
asleep ensconced in brittle timeless fire,
and seeking tryst with all of Man's desire.
This poet's words not pure enough to soothe,
nor sharply tainted, cause enough to bruise
the sleeping ego, neat and trim, inside
disrupted harmony - a vulture's pride.
The closed and hidden eye has seen it all,
and shouldered all necessity; to call
it living is to leave it all undone -
the vicious twist of life's true form has won.
The Worlds in PaintingsThe Worlds in Paintings9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The masterpiece unveiled, who knew
what lay beneath the cloth, so new;
that canvas will hang forever.
Wonder at the turn of her face,
why is she not smiling, while around her
other faces pose in seated pleasure.
Wonder how those trees did not uproot,
why disparate forces could not trip
the brush that touched the branches.
Wonder at the satisfied stature
of the gentleman with hounds,
of the lonely regal shooting party.
The master painter knew these folk,
these gentle-edged spokes that walked
and breathed and loved as real hearts.
Frame a thought for each poor soul,
while the picture hangs dented by time itself:
imagine the life behind those oils.
Emphatic NoddingEmphatic Nodding9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I will wear my thong.
it is only a wedding.
sod the rest of you.
People are LookingPeople are Looking9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I am the one
Who has no blood
To puff the veins
And away from
My bleeding heart.
I am not stood
As I cannot
Find the power
To lift myself up
And out of this chair
So I am down
And people are looking.
I have no thoughts
To air my views
Is unknown to me
In my small world
I do not walk
Or do as I am bid.
I am snuggly warm
And outside air
Avoids me, like the wind.
The Twice-Loved SoldierThe Twice-Loved Soldier9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Having scaled and felt the scrape of the stars,
the world collapsed beneath his feet
and left him in poor mental health.
Poor flower, petals wilting in the light,
with Summer's crooning so near at hand
and a heart's desire to be enclosed in joy.
Elected to perceive that imperial beauty,
a second chance at perfect happiness,
and another paling memory to disrupt life.
Sympathetic fool, looking for fault inside,
where simple perfection lives already -
the pictures on the walls are hers for you.
Strain to hold contentment prisoner,
take a grip on ecstasy,
and surrender to the strength in your heart.
Regal ChildRegal Child9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
reach inside my mind.
unravel the happiness
to find my reasons.
the pensive father,
deciding the small one's fate:
I will hold you now.
the sound of laughter
tickles my senses awake:
my small baby boy.
wear my crown, my son.
clothe yourself in majesty,
and rule this land well.
The Unclean MindThe Unclean Mind9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
someone is always watching -
do not post that filth.
GeniusGenius9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
look in the mirror
to see the genius there:
believe in yourself.
Thought-GripThought-Grip9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A thought-grip holds my brain
with a near-close nightmare:
that she is not mine,
nor do I reside in her heart -
it is cool with wonder
I am cool with wonder.
Now my head lifts from sleep -
it is infectious and docile -
and the world is unsmiling
at me - on me - is the Sun gone out? -
for the darkness is heart-deep,
and her leaving:
war-pain is a child to my heart's.
The melon is splitting,
and groaning to a stop -
heart-stop quiet suddenness.
Incomplete PoetryIncomplete Poetry9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
it is not complete.
your mind is filling in gaps
which should not be there.
The Cruellest PunishmentThe Cruellest Punishment9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
take this dirty brush
and lock it away from me:
do not give it back.
stop the shaft of light,
let inspiration darken;
my pen will silence.
cut clean at the bloody root:
seal closed the heart valve.
FragileI'm okay with beingFragile6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
gripping the folds of too-big sweater,
like an extra skin
to compensate for her own,
pulled tight over a collection
I'm okay with being
while yet imagining her hip bones,
to be hips
knowing that she would never
achieve the hourglass femininity
I'm okay with being
I'm SorryI'm Sorry7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
today I accidentally
killed your ladybug
tangled in my mess of hair
onto my shoulder
not thinking I grabbed
for the tickle and
with a fingetip
on her round
and I watched her fade
BatB, What's in a NameBatB, What's in a Name4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
So, after reading an article about the importance of character names I decided I really needed to look up what my characters names all meant. Some of these I chose pretty carefully, others, I learned, were just too dang ironic and wonderful. I thought I might share my reasonings (And one beautiful find) with you guys.
Cosette Dawes - Now, this really isn't a common name. In fact, it comes from another famous literary work, "Les Miserables" it is the name of Jean Valjean's adopted daughter, and as far as I have heard it came from a slang word meaning "of little value" since when she comes into the world it really is at about the lowest position a girl could occupy at the time. (That waif on the infamous poster is her - http://lewwaters.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/cyt-les-miserables.jpg.) I chose this name for two reasons.
1.) Cosette's dad is such a bibliophile that he named his first daughter after his faveor