Poem - Ode to SoundwavePoem - Ode to Soundwave4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Monster Deep Inside
Somewhere deep inside,
Down beneath the hide,
Where soul and Spark have died.
I know my darker side.
Black face and hollow eyes;
It's truth within these lies,
For death and evil ties,
My Spark, for thee, thus dies.
This monster deep within,
Down beneath the skin,
For thee, my King, I sin,
And the darkness deep within.
Horror, here, in silence grows
An evil mind no one knows.
For thee, my King, my darkness shows,
Black o'er black, your sin bestows.
Somewhere deep inside,
A darkness lay in silent tide,
Until I can no longer hide
This roaring monster deep inside.
Hummingbird EyelidsYour eyelids are fluttering like a hummingbird's wings. Your heart wants to take the flight of an albatross but your body is weighing you down beneath the cold metal and rough brickwork. Your thoughts are swirling in pirouettes and you can't seem to catch even their trailing lace.Hummingbird Eyelids5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You're dreaming of Giselle and Firebird and listening to the string crescendos swirling around their joy and sorrow. You're singing a swan song and mourning your beautifully shattered loss. You're watching your memories dance along the horizon and wishing you could be held in their embrace.
Your nails are torn and tattered and marring your porcelain face with streaks of scarlet. Your heart is pulsing and counting down the seconds left for you to endure. Your irises are thickening as you gaze up into the sky and tiptoe across the grass and sand with a fragmented grace.
You're gently pressing black and white keys and listening to the notes dousing your ears and slowing your pulse. You're mimicking
The Expected Part 1 of 4—Preface—The Expected Part 1 of 411 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
This is a walnut.
The walnut has no name. Its Latin appellation, however, is juglans, short for jovis glans. Jovis is what Zeus was called when the Romans saw him and decided they wanted one of those too; glans means nuts. Jupiter's nuts. It is highly probable that, back when this name was chosen, people meant to say walnuts were nuts fit for the gods. Funny, what the evolution of language can do to nuts.
This walnut is lying on the wooden floor of a monastery, a monastery beautifully situated in the middle of a seemingly endless forest.
This is Friar Mattheus. In a moment, Friar Mattheus will step on the walnut, slip, fall down the stairs, and break two ribs. Friar Mattheus really likes walnuts. A little earlier, he was going to crack this one open and enjoy it. At that exact moment, he had a doubtlessly divine inspiration for a chorale praising his saint of choice. The ingenuity of this chorale's words was that they would only make
Desert.She drew you a map to enlightenment, but you neverDesert.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
could follow directions. You had to find yourself first,
and left through a hole in your floor as the sun set
quietly. You found mountains ablaze and oceans in
the desert, but you never found yourself among the
wonders. Her tears mixed with the raindrops
on her windshield while she searched for you too; driving
down the center of the road until she found you,
more hollow than when you had left. This wasn't the
discovery you had hoped for.
She wrote you a bible on how to be free, but faith never
really appealed to you. Worship was for the mindless,
you thought, and dove from the moon into chemicals and
rain-soaked sand. You climbed wildfires and danced down
endless stretches of heat-scarred highway, but with the
moon hung low in the sky, she hadn't tried to find you.
You made your way back to the familiar in the dead of
night as she waited at home. This wasnt the plot twist
you were expecting.
She gave you the world and a new sens
septemberAnd then you were there,september5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Stretching and waiting
With the moon in you hair
I wrapped my arms around you
For the first time
Stars whirled, the moon Blue
Lips touched and galaxies crashed
I felt the weight of years
I knew I was in trouble
By ourselves and floating
Passing the time in a little bubble
I could look at you for years
Lick your tears away
Put a quiet hand on your fears
My skin was electric where
Dreaming of my hands wrapped
In your hair
An entire Universe sparked
And I saw the possibilities
The 3rd kiss lured me in
Those perfect lips,
an intricate grind of hips
No more refusing Right
Just to be bathed in you
Just me refusing the light
Sailing through endless
Black night skies
Slow smile I couldn't miss
Your eyes showed
I was all yours then
Happiness' AllureClose your eyes, turtledove.Happiness' Allure7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Skip into your deepest memories
as swirling hues strip
the baby blue from the sky.
Trust my weathered hands
like when I pushed your swing
in your rosy-red dress and
usual cherub smile.
Cover your ears and rest easy
in my arms as the house yawns;
stretching and cracking floorboards
in attempt to remove
the glassy-crust from its eyes.
Tears plop along my ragged shirt,
and I drift to when we danced
with the melody of raindrops
on pots and pans during storms.
Screams and uprooted trees
blend like the moist soil
on our fingertips when
we prepared our garden
with just enough to survive.
My ears pop into deafness.
I kiss your forehead and with
trembling hands, shield your
dreaming form as the blast
steals us into eternal night.
.:The World Came Together:.Toris stood in front of Feliks hospital room. His pale hand was firmly on the handle, ready to open the door to his screaming friend. But he couldn't. He didn't know why, but his hand just wouldn't move. A frown was on his face, tears in his eyes. He didn't know what to say to his friend. His President, many elite Military and Political leaders were dead..:The World Came Together:.5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
97 innocent lives in one plane crash.
His grip on the handled tighten. The ironic thing was, the plane crash that claimed the lives of so many members of Poland's elite happened near the spot where Josef Stalin's NKVD secret police shot dead some 22,000 Polish officers and intellectuals in 1940, wiping out much of the country's wartime leadership. Feliks' screams had gotten louder.
Feliks had really cared about his President. His country cared. Toris turned the handle and threw the door open. The loud noise didn't affect the Pole. He laid on his bed, bandages wrap around him, an IV in his arm. His green eyes were closed, fist
Flutters and CollisionsIs it easy to divide between a beatFlutters and Collisions5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and a (beat) (beat) (beat)?
As flutters and collisions
are new definitions
to urban sounds and
For sounds such as voices,
can expand and rise,
like life's delicate ties
as it's a man's journey
to scale the grand staircase,
to those golden pianos
that belong to the skies
but voices speak in tones
and as fast as the
change of verses
they can plummet to
the dark depths of
a saxophone's gloom
And there is noise that glides
within ears gifted to pry,
to the endless rapture
of structured symphonies
made by primitive instruments
by an artist at their prime
and worshiped by that hand
as if music was everyone's god
Sound surrounds us as one reality
it is a gift,
that emits from the most subtle of things
like the faint flutter of a pulse
or the collisions of structured symphonies
Guide to Successful PhotografyGuide to Successful Photografy11 years ago in Humor More Like This
Photography is the perfect art for people who want something without having to spend a great deal of time bogged down with the tedious task of creating it. Where you have to form worlds from the ground up in drawing or writing, you can simply point a camera at things people can see with their plain eyes then sell it to them for cash. It's like having your own regulated air-selling business! How can you go wrong?
Of course, photography is more than just pointing and clicking. The camera is a very complex tool, and you should at least be able to explain how it works to whoever you're pointing and clicking at. Photography relies upon light, which is made up of particles that come from, like, space or something and go bouncing and careening off of everything in sight like Ted Kennedy at an Oktoberfest. When a photo is taken, these light particles enter through the lens of the camera where they are promptly captured and interrogated—often with threats of imprisonment in Cher's va
FFM VI (The Astronaut)I've always liked astronauts. There is a strange romanticism attached to someone who finds the entire world so mundane that they feel compelled to leave it behind. (I hear that the word mundane means "earthly." Figures.) They need more. They need the universe. They need everything that ever was and ever will be.FFM VI (The Astronaut)3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
My husband is an astronaut, and as a child, I wanted to become one too. I could leave my little world behind. But as I grew, my little world also grew, and I realized that there was more than enough to explore and discover on this planet. I had my love, the astronaut and we lived in a tiny, little house where I played wife and he played husband. My world was little again, but it was perfect.
But of course, he had to suit up and take off. And I got left behind.
Most nights, I sit in
ourmy garden, and look up at the night sky. I watch the stars and know that he is up there, flying among them and I wish for them to bring him back.
And I know that this
Kingdom Hearts Fanfic 89Kingdom Hearts Fanfic 894 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Kingdom Hearts: Birth By Awakening
Chapter 89: Rumble in the Titan City
The night before the gang were ready to fight Wesker and Medusa everyone was relaxing in the living room so they could have as much free time as they can. Bobby noticed that Chris wasn't with the others and got up and started to search the tower for him. He then checked the roof and Chris was standing there, staring out in the distance. Chris saw him and gave a small wave as Bobby approached him. The two leaned on the railing of the roof as they both sighed.
Bobby: Again I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I found out when I helped her break out of that prison facility that contracted the T-Virus. A Heartless came after her and she didn't get harmed by it. She promised me not to tell you because she knew you would get worried about her.
Chris: I can understand. (chuckles) Claire never did like it when I always 'butt in her life' when we were younger. I already called Leon and told him and he's not happy about it to
Por primera vezMe arrastraba por la calle, preocupado, infeliz. Me deprimía demasiado el invierno, con los días tan cortos, sin poder disfrutar del Sol que ya de por sí apenas se veía en Londres. Para colmo, desde el mediodía llevaba cayendo ese maldito chirimiri que no se siente pero moja, y cómo no, yo sin un maldito paraguas con el que cubrirme, con la gabardina empapada y colocándome el maletín sobre mi cabeza de rato a rato viéndome más idiota de lo que ya habitualmente parezco. Vamos, un fantástico día rojo, como diría mi querida Audrey Hepburn en "Desayuno con diamantes". Y a todo esto también podríamos sumarle más problemas, como mi supuesta "falta de iniciativa" en el trabajo, que me impedía ascender, o el hecho de que mi matrimonio se estuviera yendo a la mierda a pasos agigantados. Qué alegría de vida, ya la quisieran muchos.Por primera vez4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Desalentado, suspiré mientras me pasaba la mano por la
Slenderman -5-Slenderman -5-4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"I really question your taste in food!"*
*Monster Rancher is an animated show from my childhood. I rewatched it recently with my brother, which could explain why this was influenced.
For some reason, the refreshment table was on a higher level, because I had to jump down onto the main stage. I shoved the pretzel in front of Suezo's eye.
"I need this! You hear me?" I practically shouted. I felt delirious. "The Slenderman's after me, and I need something with salt, and"
I look to the entrance of the amphitheater and beheld an unusual and morbid sight. I saw Slenderman standing there, but with no head on his shoulders. His head was in the hands of one of the rough-looking bikers who were fighting him. Slenderman took back his head, and the biker's eyes rolled back and he toppled forward, dead. Slenderman put his head back on his neck, his connection audibly known by a few cracks. Then he proceeded to approach the stage. There was nothing stopping him now. It was up to me to e
Teacup FriendsWe brew cups of tea and remember them thirty minutes later. The water is still warm when we pull out the teabag, but the liquid is thick and smells bitter. We drink it anyway;the syrupy liquid coats our throats and stains our stomachs. We drink it anyway, since we took the time to make it.Teacup Friends3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We figure they are like that; bitter, forgotten cups of tea that we invested so much time in making. (We even give them names: Earl Grey, Peppermint, Breakfast Blend, and Chamomile.)
Chamomile was the first to go, clipping the hair above his ears, buttoning himself up inside a black pea coat, tying it all up with a noose-like scarf around his neck.
Inside we mourned, but outside we laughed about how silly this all was. As if the way he wore his hair determined his newfound spite. As if the pea coat was a rite of passage, a ticket to better things.
But then Breakfast Blend, Peppermint, and Earl Grey followed, sweeping locks of hair beneath the rug and buttoning four years inside their pea coats. (It
ImpressionableYou left impressions in her skin and they sank straight down to her heart. You always told her that she was impressionable, but she never took it quite so literally.Impressionable3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She was holding memories so tightly that her hands started to burn. Each day a layer of skin would char and crumble. She swept the ash off and carried on.
Sometimes when she felt lonely, she would take old blankets and wrap herself in them. They smelled like the people who used them before her. They have absorbed their dreams, their feelings, their hearts. She liked to hear other peoples' dreams because she never had one herself.
She never felt quite at home. She worried about getting caught in a gust of wind and tossed down in a field somewhere, but secretly, she hoped for it.
She missed you. She wouldn't admit it, but I could see it in her face and hear it in her words.
She lost her right shoe one night. She walked a half mile in the rain without it and arrived at the front door with a big smile on her face. Sometimes I
Fieldswe braided stalks of wheat with our teethFields3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and bloodied our knuckles on old twigs
she tried vainly to heal them with her kisses
i pushed pebbles with my toes
and we existed together
for the first and last time
in the spaces of the silence
You talk shit - Jave and RuokRuok watched Jave's arm reach out across the bed, absently feeling for his pants. Today had been the first day they'd been left alone together in a non-military environment, and it barely took a minute before they were both naked and going at it.You talk shit - Jave and Ruok5 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Jave's father was a very wealthy man, and had residences throughout the Yumbol province. Jave, recently promoted, had been given his father's least favourite of the many houses, and had invited Ruok to spend the weekend with him at his new home.
There was a lot of risk in their relationship while at the Jipna encampment, where the two men usually lived. Not only was a relationship such as theirs illegal, it was also punishable by on-the-spot death for one offender, and enslavement for the other - so that they may live in torture. As part of the Juktu military, the two men were in constant surveillance and barely had the time or space to spend time together.
'Do you ever think about what would happen if we got caught?' Ruok asked his lover.
Lost my heartSometimes when you're young.Lost my heart4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Having moments of such happiness.
A place so magical, nothing wrong.
It must have been Atlantis.
Where two leave their hearts,
in a haven protected.
Hand in hand, returning homewards,
eyes with love reflected.
But she didn't trust,
her heart near his.
Being affraid, not of disgust,
but of losing this bliss.
His love never ending,
but she didn't show.
This wound isn't mending
and she just let go.
He lost his heart,
to this girl so special.
Ripping his soul apart.
Luckily it wasn't fatal.
Ending this poem,
with the worst part.
Seeing another victim.
Running with her heart.
risque--risque5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
he has pain
written into his
DNA and prickly
but you still
get nicked by
his thorns; now
around with a
you say you love
him with his
red as a plastic cherry with
fruit-flesh stale from
disuse, sewn shut
i once asked
what the appeal
was, and you started
as well as other things
that shine before
really you're just
another girl waiting
to be hurt by a boy
in his lashes.
keep your lace-
edged love poems
to yourself; he's not
the kind who'll read
FFM XIV"Where is she?" he asked at the front desk of the hospital.FFM XIV3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The receptionist looked up, "Good afternoon doctor. She's recovering in room 312, though I would wait if you want to see her, she is probably asleep right now."
The doctor's face turned white, "So she did it?"
"Yes sir, the procedure was successful."
He nodded at the receptionist as he turned down the corridor. "Yes, thank you."
"It was my pleasure, sir," she said.
"Why do we say that?" he asked, spinning around.
"'It was my pleasure.' Why do we say that? We haven't felt pleasure in many years."
"I suppose it's just an old habit. I haven't given much thought to it really."
"Right," he said heading towards room 312.
The door was opened and the lights were all off when the doctor entered the room. He
walked over to her and looked down on her sleeping face. She looked different, he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was though.
"Here, I will let in some sun. You always liked natural light," he said drawing the du
VuelosUn cuervo lucha contra el viento, día tras día, hora tras hora. Aprende a volar. Llega a una ciudad y vuelve a batir las alas. Busca su lugar, pero no encuentra nada, se niega a aparecer. Cansado, se rinde y se deja llevar por primera vez por el aire, por el viento, no se opone. Y en ese momento, revive. Ha aprendido que dejarse llevar es bueno. Ha aprendido a mimetizarse con el ambiente, a ser uno con el viento. No se cansa, no necesita, no vive para. Simplemente es todo y nada. Un hilo en mi imaginación es su sitio.Vuelos4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Slender Hospice PoemDer Großmann,Slender Hospice Poem3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Oh, should I travel through the woods
Or should I not wishing I would
For above me lurks within the trees
No one could hear my deathly screams
The palest man, the blackest suit
Bigger than the tallest brute
Six black arms will grab you up
Or stalk you till you just give up
A top hat bares upon his head
Makes your soul fill up with dread
He takes you when you least expect
Boil you up, and eat your neck
He'll leave your body not to eat
But staple your corpse on a tree
Fear the man, the slender man
For he can do, what no man can
By ~ Rawtin Amirand