Fallen AngelFallen Angel6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is how they found you
mouth full of brambles
the rub of matches
against your knuckles
with rocks pillowing your limbs
in the blind tangle
hate is a dirty bruise
left at your temples
the crucifixion of words
pressed like stones
into your wounds
where blind awe
runs deep like blood.
It's the Women's Heart"You surely are hard to find, aren't you, Windrider?"It's the Women's Heart4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Putting the glass back on the tavern bar, Sywyn glanced at the young man who sat on the wooden stool beside him. Brown curls flickered in the firelight, and clear green eyes returned his gaze, inspecting him and looking for a reaction.
"I see you do recognize me. I must admit I really wasn't expecting so much," he said smiling, "it saves me the embarrassment of introducing myself again, at least."
The scarred elf looked away without a word, while his new companion kept staring at him with genuine curiosity.
"It's not like I thought you were going to be happy seeing me either, of course..."
No response came, and the young man just nodded peacefully, his smile still on his lips.
"You're not very talkative, I see... is it just because of me, or shall I assume you have other qualities to make up for it?"
Sywyn clenched the glass in his hand and held his breath in an effort to remain calm, teeth gritted behind pres
SeasonIn the somber autumn silence theres a song upon the breezeSeason5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Pouring from the amber forest, like a symphony of trees
Can you hear how they are singing?
Through those sanguine pillars ringing
Natures requiem is soaring, roaring up in full reprise
Its a chorus of the dying; its a choir of the damned
And the death-knells ringing out lament their passing close at hand
Can you hear the leaves are falling?
Can you hear their spirits calling?
Their enthralling anthem falters as they force their final stand
Now the final leaves are plucked away by winters whipping wind
All the colors of the forest slowly by the snow worn thin
Though by mist and cold encumbered
Thrive does nature here, not slumber
Midst a vast and frozen wasteland life refuses to rescind
Down from leaden sieves it drifts and paints the ground in pallid hues
Alabaster mist so fine it into everything intrudes
Not a death, a resurrection
Natures renaissance through flexion;
Fourteenth of the SecondI will always hate the second month of the year. I will hate all of its twenty-eight days, its twenty-ninth whenever a leap year comes along, even today, the fourteenth. I hate this month so much that I will not even speak its cursed name, for it is the month in which my world was transported from Earth to Hell.Fourteenth of the Second6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I know today isnt meant to be a day of hate. I know its meant to be the opposite. I know its meant to be the celebration of ultimate affection to one another. But I cannot feel like that, not when everything I had cared for all my life had vanished in an inferno that was beyond human comprehension.
A week has passed, but the carnage has continued.
Im standing in the wreckage of my house. Like all the houses in our street, and in most of the town, what are left are just razed ruins. I make my way through what used to be the hallway, finally stumbling across the kitchen. Mum used to do a lot of baking here. She used to tease my terrib
Breaking Free for Love-100 T.Breaking Free for Love-100 T.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we sleep where the sun worships your touch,
where the moonbeams
and midnight silhouettes
and words disappear
beneath the strokes of your fingertips painting skin.
was that promise true, my love?
the one you grazed
across my neck at dawn?
you light up my fantasies with kisses
as you catch my eye
with two whispering looks,
and i guess i must have lingered
Joy.We had been shooting down stars with harpoon guns since before we knew what we could do and howling at the moon before we knew that it was calling back. You slept under your own silver midnight on the opposite side of the universe while I woke up to empty houses and hospital stays. Age wasn't something you measured until you could open your eyes without seeing her face.Joy.5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Maybe we didn't grow up so far apart after all, our childhoods blending together like your tears in the ocean. The mother's we couldn't reach, the father's we never knew; sometimes you feel too much like a reflection of everything I've tried to forget to possibly be just some other lost teenager who believes he's misunderstood.
But believe me, I know you feel alone.
I know you still dream about the blue of her eyes and the texture of her old sweaters. And when you're alone at night, I know you search the sky for shooting stars to wish her back to you.
But I wonder if you remember anything more than butterfly kisses and
Under Construction-100 T.Under Construction-100 T.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you put a sign up yesterday.
"heart currently under construction.
sorry for any inconvenience."
the words settled into my gut
like sapphires at the bottom of an ocean;
how could you be hurting so badly
when you only gave it to me a month ago?
i wonder if the mask you wear to bed
matches the show you put on at dawn.
do your eyes still glow
a feral yellow-secret-hue
or do you dismiss me at the door
because you're afraid of what i'll see
when the stars collide?
i'm begging you to yank me around.
at least then,
your walls will budge beneath the weight
and i'll recognize some part of you
just kiss me once.
i promise not to cry when you let go,
i just want to see emotion in your eyes.
i begged for you to let me in.
and for a minute,
the door opened just a bit wider
and i caught a glimpse of red over your shoulder
before you snapped the door into place again.
that it was your heart peeking my way.
The Drivers DanceA quick glance in the rearview mirror confirms that it's still there, the silver car, gliding through the dark streets behind me. And with every looming roundabout, we ski forwards on smooth cool rubber, skimming the curves elegantly.The Drivers Dance5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
At the red lights, the golden streetlamp spills over the car easing to a halt behind me. The driver is illuminated, hinting at the frame of a man, an arm propped casually against the steering wheel.
When amber hits green, we both indicate, simultaneously choosing the left path, and swinging our metal hips that way.
Through urban straights and country twists, he follows, keeping a respectable distance, casually trailing my tracks in the rain. Our driving dance is intricate, mapping miles of uncovered ground, minutes and hours sailing by. I wonder if, like me, his destination is uncertain. If the beginning of his journey was like mine.
We travel like this for over an hour, equal speeds, equal minds. A two car camel train, perusing the deserts of a tarmac st
tomorrow's headlines--c.i froze last night,tomorrow's headlines--c.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
dull eyes filled with white noise
and the chaos of moving forward
as your departing words tore my smile to shreds.
in my heart,
raindrops turned to icicles
and my oxygen fled the scene,
turning my numb lips dark blue.
and i can only imagine
the headlines of the morning's news:
love turns girl into a popsicle.
rescuers still trying to melt her veins.
the cure to one goodbye
said much too soon.
I froze like a deer in headlights
It was all a little too perfect
All a little too well planned
Your voice was too steady
Too fucking steady
My breath was sucked out of me
I wanted to roll into a ball
I would be the main attraction
People would travel moons to see me
Curled in a ball slowly rocking back and forth
Back and forth
people would come from miles
to watch me shatter,
watch my eyes fill,
watch me bleed myself dry of words...
and they'd all know
that it's because of you.
i froze last night,
but not from the cold of snow
and all they dothere's a crowd of angry young menand all they do5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
who drive too fast
and all they do is break their mothers' hearts
with baseball bats to postboxes
standing on the hollowed out bed
of a pick(me)up truck
there's a crowd of angry young mothers
who fell too fast
and all they do is break their lovers' hearts
ripping letters up from postboxes
standing on the creaking front steps
of a start(you)up house
there's a crowd of angry young lovers
who talk too fast
and all they do is break each other's hearts
flirting around the postboxes
standing with their hearts on the brink
of a shut(them)up snap
abandoned toy witnesses-T.abandoned toy witnesses-T.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
just listen. the children are playing again. a girl, blond hair in a bow and curled into ringlets, talks to a stuffed bear. that bear, with the denim jeans and a tear near his thread-and-lace heart. she tells him of dreaming and running away. when mom and dad scream, the little girl's mouth puckers and she closes her eyes and holds the bear tighttighttight, until he's almost bursting at the seams. that bear, with the heart-button shoes and a lock of blond hair in his paw? he watched every thing, but he'll never tell. he only spoke to the child.
her brother, a replica of herself in boy's clothing, chases robots and balls across the vast room. when he gets bored, he pulls out his yo-yo. that one, with green string and black plastic bobbles? yes, it's his favorite. he walks the dog and goes 'round the world, but he hasn't figured out how
time-spinning, frail organsdecembertime-spinning, frail organs5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
i signed the form today, the dark clouds beyond your window--swollen with rain, bruising the sky--echoing the mood trapped behind closed doors. at six, i took your bandaged hand--careful, dear, you told me six months ago. don't bump the i.v.--and whispered goodbye with my tears. i whispered my secrets before you let yourself go.
do you remember growing up? we were twenty-four, fresh out of college, and you were beautiful. your crimped-up, decked-out, rust-red-tinted hair smelled of black licorice markers and cups of chai tea. i buried myself in its webs that night. begged you to take me away.
and you did, love. the sway of your hips kissing mine stopped the world, and for ten seconds, i forgot what you told me. for a moment, i forgot you were already moving on.
your eyes were yellow, feverish, the frailty of your failing organs much too
Butterflies...Our lives are filled with ButterfliesButterflies...5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
In moments that we seize
They guide us with our heart and soul
Placing themselves in our memories
In days so dark we find them there
We feel them midst our pain
Guiding us to all tranquility
Till we are whole again
We see them in each golden day
They flutter strong and true
Each one more glorious than the next
Their colours a vivid hue
Our laughter guides each Butterfly
To peace and harmony
To place them amongst the flowers
To dance in reverie
Such gentle creatures as they fly
Their silence creating calm
We watch them with surprise and mirth
A cool and soothing balm
Butterflies are our gifts from God
To show us all the light
To guide us in our daily quest
Turning what is wrong to right
So next time you see a Butterfly
Treat this creature with your love
Filling all your memories with their beauty
As they flutter up above
Gay PrideGay Pride9 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
In honour of Pride month, I decided to send out a message to my homophobic generation. The following are dialogues I have heard/had with people my age. The words not in quotes are just my thoughts on the exchange.
"Who here is against gays having the right to marry?"
Michael raises his hand.
"Ok Michael, can you tell us why?"
"'Cause, it's nasty."
Real articulate. I find you nasty, should your right to live be taken away because of it?
"My favourite character in the Lord of the Rings movies? Legolas."
"I liked him too, until I heard the actor that plays him his gay. Then I just lost all respect for him."
I just lost all respect for you.
"How am I a homophobe?"
"Are you scared of gays?"
It is not fucking contagious. If you can admit your fear is irrational, fine. But don't use the word gay in a negative context because you have psychological problems.
"Gays marrying? That's just wrong, its totally wrong."
"Why do you say that?"
those pesky elves--100 T.under the rainbow,those pesky elves--100 T.5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
three bad little elves
play cops and robbers
and make fools of themselves.
they guard a large pot
to the brim filled with gold
and play hide-and-seek...
or so we are told.
but don't fall for the trick!
take a look at that cloud.
it's edges are too even,
the rainbow, too loud!
swipe at your eyes;
is doubt setting in?
blink, blink, once more!
and now, look again.
the gold pot is missing,
the cloud lonely and bare.
but where did the elves go?
well, they were never there.
Education is a GunEducation is a gun. When you first pick it up, you may not be sure how to use it. You may not be aware of its potential. Heck, you might not even know what the point of it is.Education is a Gun5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But gradually, you will learn. You will learn how to hold it and marvel its body, so mechanical yet so full of life. You will learn to load it, hearing the bullets of knowledge click past your ears. The noise will scare you at first, and doubt will assail your thoughts. Are you really good enough to wield it?
Eventually you learn to cock the gun. The readiness, the excitement that bubbles from the gun makes you smile. At last, you are in control. Your teacher then asks you to point at the target. A boy grins at you. You recoil; you can't shoot a child, surely. Then the child transforms. It becomes square-ish, box-like; it becomes a TV. Propaganda blares out from suited leaders, deluding hundreds of poor, illiterate people clinging to hope rather than fact.
Your teacher steps in and utters the word.
music notesShe was sprawled across the mattress, eyes closed, as her fingers pretended to play sonatas across the bedding. Her hair rested in tangled curls, overlapping blank sheet music and nude legs, a life printed on cut-outs and photographs. Piles of them were scattered here and there cognizant of their destinies, organized by "date-taken" and "place." Some of her, some of him, some of something else entirely. An unfolded album had been laid to her side, inhaling what was left. The pictures infected her. They were souvenirs of someone she used to be, something she used to believe in, somewhere she wasn't.music notes5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She had been in the kitchen when he started playing. The piano wasn't his forte, nor was it hers, it was a gift. He could play nonsense well, that much she knew, and when he did, she would stay and listen.
She was sprawled across the mattress, eyes closed, as her fingers hung at length over the edge, infected from holding old memories (mostly fiction), she was allergic.
georgiaWhen they hanged the black man from Roopville, my mama burnedgeorgia7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all the white curtains in the house and buried the ashes under a rattleweed,
and said He will send the teeth of beasts upon them.
Then those Clifford boys strung their shoelaces
together and rolled their sisters Kewpie in mud
and left her swinging from a yellow poplar;
you wouldnt think honey could roll so slowly in the middle of summer
but then you remember that honey aint sweat, and it sure aint blood.
And you could hear the bees for days.
They hanged that man for resting his chin on fence of a woman
whose husband used to hold her head
under bathwater, while he dyed his brown shoes unrecognizable.
(A couple years later, that ladys husband caught some guilt
between his collarbones, and choked to death on the Flint River,
the same year all those folks died in a shar
manias1.manias6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i used to go online and make fake
accounts on dating websites when i
was feeling especially malicious and
frustrated and rundown and sad.
female with severe trichotillomania
and kleptomania seeking male who
doesn't mind spotty baldness or
"that's mean," you would say.
and i know, i knew; it was mean. but
i hated telling you that you were right.
sometimes i would ask my cat, "do you
remember who stole your eye? do you
remember your mother?" and i would feed
him bits of pasta and bread and wave my
hand in front of his nose.
"do you remember your mother? do you?
do you remember having two eyes?"
and i would be able to see the reflection
of my hand in his single dilated pupil, bottomless
and dark. like a mirror in his head.
then i'd get sad and i would feed him nothing.
i once kicked your bad knee on purpose
even though i said it was an accident,
and to be honest the way you went down was
sickly satisfying. i said, "i'm sorry, i'm sorry,"
and turned away because for
We'll Never Know EverythingWe'll Never Know Everything10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
We'll Never Know Everything
. . .You told me that my weakness
lies within my reasoning. . .
So I wondered if I should envy
Whatever it is that makes you be. . .
As I gazed upon you through your window
I watched it fog up due to the extreme humidity
It reminded me of the way we as people make impressions
An exterior doesn't always reveal all that lies beneath
One can alter the outer shell
To connate what they equate with physical beauty
So perhaps you don't have to divulge to them
All that lies deep within your memory
If they see what's on the outside
And have an infatuated attraction toward you for that reason
Perhaps that will be enough
And you don't have to divulge
All that has real meaning of love
Forever hibernating for the winter season
The facade is the wall that you call your body,
which now only comprehends misconstrued physical embrace
It use to be connected to your emotions
But regardless of time passing, it stays remains frozen
And suffer the inability to update
The only dif
disjointed lovers--collabshe wears her hair in her eyesdisjointed lovers--collab5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and hides her teeth
she calls them,
with a flair in the front)
behind the palms of her hands.
and it drives him crazy
because when she laughs,
she covers it with a cough
and she never raises her voice.
of weeds in the crooks of his elbows
and stars in the depths of his grin,
but he just doesn't understand her.
she cries over wilting roses
and dissects teddy bears for the stuffing inside,
but she never searches for a heart in the mess.
she never searches for love,
and he wonders if maybe
she doesn't realize that she should.
He laughs at the graveyard of teddy bears
as he holds her in his arms, trying to
understand all of her whispers.
Wanting her to notice him differently
(through love-struck eyes and
But he notices the tears she
fails to hide underneath her bangs
and the ways
she constantly hides her unique
and lovely teeth from his gazes.
He wants to give her all his