Kaze to Mauともに舞えKaze to Mau2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Tomo ni mae
Yasashii kaze yo
Dance with me,
A thin branch
Before you blow it off
Show me the way
Kaze no Koe風の声Kaze no Koe2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Kaze no koe
Tsubame no you ni
Tori wa su wo oku
The wind's voice
Like a swallow
Begins to dance
A bird leaves its nest
I'M.FAKEI'M.FAKE10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You walk all over me,
Calling me names.
Who are You to judge me,
When You are the same.
Warmth LustWarmth Lust11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What would you think
If you knew that I read
Absorbing your tears
Swallowing your rages
.....ravenous for more.....
How often, then, would you write for me?
What would you think
If you knew that the things
Make me need more
Make me (want you)
C l o s e r . . .
C l o s e r . . .
To . . &
It s himIt s him4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
One day I sat and thought. 'What am I doing? What is my life?' I thought of all the things I've made in my life, all my feelings, all my experiences. Pictures. Memories. Old movies. Others were not.
Would I ever have some say so and mean it? All my so called life is a dream I live in the real world, but releasing it in my own parallel universe. An animated universe. All my feelings came from comics, manga, stories, movies, pictures, everything that was not real. 14 years and not even an anime love, I could made, discover, create. I had actually tried. I tried to fall in love with my girl friend. And it also seemed as though I really liked liked her, but it quickly disappeared when I told her about it. I was miserable. I did not deserve to live a life in a world I could not feel at home in. So rather put an end to life, so someone else can get it.
The screen stood Microsoft Word open a document with no name. There were 4 options for suicide: rat poison, jumping, cutting the art
EdieEdie5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Her skin of powdered rice paper
the scent of rotting orchids,
a drug-induced Noh dancer with
slow-writhing limbs akimbo-
silver-gilded girl of the moment
at the factory that turned out
Monroe silk screens, and porn
to the drone of a refrigerator,
from asylum to the Big Apple,
the apple of her father's eye
and of his desires, she'd sleep
among the gay lovers, pretty boys
with erotic names of exotic birds,
knowing she was safe for a while
as they quarreled amongst themselves-
who'd bring her chocolate shakes,
and chauffeur their princess
to her doctor's for injections
(she was too much a lady to do it herself)
until her fingertips became match-heads
setting fire to hotel rooms,
flailing from inside a closet
while bellboys stole her furs-
face of a comatose junkie drawing deep
on filter-less cigarettes
(she wasn't afraid). And yet, what deeds
have you, Edith, what deeds?
But wasn't she fabulous! remembering
back when she and Suky spent trips
screaming from an open convertible
TwinkleTWINKLETwinkle2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Just another day.
He walked through the ruins, he had time enough.
It was five day snow since the riots stopped. Government wasn't anymore. Anarchy ruled. Or rather, the strongest, the gangs, the ones still not done with the past, who still started fires and stupid struggles for uselessness.
It was over. For five days now.
They said he got away lucky. Only lost a mother and a sister.
Not like others, who lost their whole family. or their whole family and friends, and maybe a limp or two...
He considered himself lucky as well. Not as much loss compared to others. he even still had his girlfriend.
But she lost everyone but his younger brother.
He could remember her staring at him when he told her she couldn't change that now aynway, that she had to move on to survive. Zhat she had to take care of her brother now. Her eyes were full of questions, desperation, even hate at him...? But when she fell in his arms, cried on his chest, he knew she was grateful he stayed that strong. For
Penpal! Reader x Penpal/Exchange student! EnglandPenpal! Reader x Penpal/Exchange student! England3 years ago in Settings More Like This
You smiled. Writing your full name ________ _______ On top of your Assinment from english. You were supposed to write a letter to a person in a country of your choice. You being the british fan chose England. The persons name that was now your penpal was Arthur Kirkland. You smiled at the name when you first read it. The name spelled Englishman in it's self. Your room's walls were covered in Union jack posters and the English flag. You turned your head to the sound of knocking on your door.
"Come in?" You said with slight curiosity of who was behind the wooden door.
Your mom walked into the door and sighed seeing you still awake. It was already 11pm and you had school tomorrow.
"_____ You need to go to bed you have school tomorrow" You huffed as your mother mentioned sleep.
"fine mom.." You pouted and walked to your bed as your mom turned the lights off.
You woke up that morning at 6am. Got up, took a shower, brushed your teeth after getting dressed and d
a lie that tells the truthplease don’t write me as a ghost girl,a lie that tells the truth2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all blurry lines and faded features
that caricature themselves into the minds
of those that think they see me--
i am not a canvas.
my life is not a blank sheet for you
to paint your vision across,
and i have no wires in my bones--
you cannot pose me so i’ll catch the light
like a kaleidoscope of clever quirks
and tragic backstories;
i am written in the words i discard
when i write bad poetry at 3am, and if you look,
you can find me echoed back to you
in my all time top five favorite movies.
i am the way my hands hurt
when i get nervous;
i am the urge to speak italian,
even though after a year of classes, i can barely
i am the calmness that hits
when i smell cigarettes, even though
i’ve never smoked,
and i am the grudges that have lingered
because i forget to let things go,
and i am the passive-aggressive comments
that i should be sorry for, but
never really am.
if you want, you can trace your pen along
I am a collector...I am a collector,I am a collector...8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I collect footsteps.
Wherever I choose to go, I go,
unbridled and unfettered.
Every memorised snapshot
of the places I never knew existed
bear witness to my travelling.
The moon and stars are my proof of life,
every broken blade of grass underfoot,
tells more stories of my continuum.
Where to go is never a question,
more the way of life, to travel on,
to see more of the world than you're used to.
To find home, perhaps, or to seek the place
where your soul feels it belongs.
Be that anywhere, from the frozen tundra, to the scorching desert,
I wander, my mind and I, along age old pathways and newtrodden ground.
I collect my footsteps with snapshot memories,
and when I'm too old to carry on my collection,
I can recollect, with the people I've collected along the way,
those I've grown to love, to admire, to respect and adore,
I'll share with them my traverses and my triumphs,
my hardships and dangers,
perils overcome and the return journey,
the one that never seems as long
The Rot of FlowersI am so bored of flowers.The Rot of Flowers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I dream in wounds
And I am bored of trees
Stretching to heaven;
They'll never reach.
I want to see the rot within,
gnawing on the insides,
I want to taste the pollution,
The city's poison
To distill, bottle, and sell
- humanity for consumption
I want to scrape off the makeup,
Turn the flesh inside out
And lick the rot.
Only then will flowers be beautiful.
© 2013 themagpiepoet
I.THINK.I.LOVE.YOUI.THINK.I.LOVE.YOU10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I didn't think i needed You,
I didn't think i cared,
But once i walked away,
I realized i was scared.
Scared to let You see me cry,
Scared to let myself go,
Scared because i actually needed someone.
Someone who i could let see me cry.
Some one that was there.
And You were.
Even when we weren't together,
Even when i wasn't there You cared.
You lifted me up and helped me through.
Through my fears.
Through my tears.
And stuck with me all along.
So now i'm not afraid any more,
Not to let go,
Not to be all the things You were to me,
So what i'm really trying to say,
Is i love You.
PrussiaXReader- Vampire NightPrussiaXReaderPrussiaXReader- Vampire Night3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
It had been a long day. You had spent at least 4 hours watching (Favorite show) season (number) DVD's. You could hardly keep your (e/c) eyes open, so you went to your room. After relaxing under the covers, all nice and snug, there was a faint tapping noise on your window. You tried to ignore it, but soon it got louder and louder and finally out of pure vexation, you jumped out of bed and threw the window open.
You heard some kind of laugh, almost like a hissing noise.
'What the? What was that?
You thought at first hearing the noise.
Again, the hissing noise. You prepared to turn around and go to sleep when all of a sudden,
The out of the blue comment spooked you so much, the next thing you knew you were on the floor.
"Oh...sorry ziemlich (pretty), didn't mean to scare you."
You merely stared at the visitor/intruder.
The first thing
Her wakeHer wake2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
And there she was, Martha Wayles Skelton Jefferson, lying on the white bed, surrounded by colourful flowers that didn’t seem so colourful to Thomas at all. The pale skin glued to her bone structure like a soft silk hugging the body of the woman he loved the most. She had soft dark shades under her eyes that used to have a beautiful hazel colour.
“The eyes I never got tired of looking at.” He thought to himself.
Her gorgeous, long, light, brown, wavy hair seemed to have lost its vivid colour.
“The hair I used to smell. That soft smell of roses you always had on your hair.”
The corpse of his beloved had Martha’s favourite dress, a light beige one with soft yellow lines.
“The dress she wore the first time we ever saw each other.”
On her neck she was bearing a golden necklace with a golden cross.
“The golden necklace I gave you as a birthday gift.”
On her left hand, there was the golden ring.
The wedding ring.
“The ring I pl
Jukebox Cafe A string of bells jingled obnoxiously against glass as Hugh entered the Jukebox Café. The first thing he noticed was the pepless fan rotating just enough to move hot air and the smell of grease from one side of the restaurant to the other. No one came for the food, or at least that’s what he assumed upon sight of the sticky red tablecloths and French fries that speckled the checkered floor. That and the fact that he was the only soul in sight.Jukebox Cafe2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He walked up to the bar and squinted at a sign asking customers to “Please seat yourself or ring for service.” What kind of café required its customers to ring a bell for service? Not sure if there was an employee in the place, he rang it despite the sheen applied by dirty hands, and the shrill sound barely cut through an old tune produced by the jukebox in the corner.
Can you?My heart is screamingCan you?2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Can you hear it?
My heart is falling
Can you catch it?
My heart is broken
Can you fix it?
My heart is lonely
Can you keep it company?
My heart is calling you
Can you pick up your phone?
My heart wants to hold your hand
Can you make it a reality?
My heart is blushing
Can you see it?
My heart wants to tell you something
Will you listen?
Why couldn't I?Why couldn't I?4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Why couldn't I say it?
I know it's true. There was no reason for me not to say it.
Just a few simple words.
"You mean a lot to me"
"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even be here"
"If you die, I'll die"
"I love you"
...Why couldn't I say that?
Radioromance Pt. 1Ghost transmissions: echo from the screenRadioromance Pt. 14 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in an empty theater now forsaken to chronology,
with broken pilasters, crooked seats, dead dust,
paint and gold peeling, and the rust
as layers from a dream.
Her face: vignetted and soft in the glow of studio lighting
slowly decays, erased with time,
a living film: always shifting, ever changing,
the infinite and steady stare
of grey and hollow eyes.
Her coat shudders: outside,
in the cold breeze of final night,
and the sky shifts with broken verses,
revealing echoes of moonlight.
the fatal wound, the cigarette,
the silent noir
of the final scene.
the buildings -- corpses, monuments so decayed,
this steady architecture of movement,
these hollow roads: memory.
The distressingly well-heeled and ill-at-ease
Aristocrats of the old Europe, of the Old World
Are passing away
From the streets of Salzburg and Vienna
Geneva and Ljubljana
The places you dimly remember (hence how they are lit)
That have becom
Oglinzi sparte- Mi-ai spus că ochii ei aveau forma sufletului. Cum vine asta? Sufletul are formă?Oglinzi sparte4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
- Bine, atunci cum arată? De ce zâmbeşti? De ce dai din cap în semn că nu? Nu ce?
- Nu îţi spun.
- Complicat mai eşti şi tu, Alex. Cine să te mai înţeleagă? Haide, zi-mi, ce culoare aveau?
- Ochi în formă de suflet şi fără culoare carevasăzică Dar gene dese avea?
- Câte dorinţe am eu atâtea are ea gene să-i cadă.
- Alex eu cred că tu mă minţi, nu există asemenea ochi.
- Ba există! Ba există! I-am văzut eu! Şi m-am văzut în ei! De patru ori m-am văzut în ei, de trei ori în culori şi o dată alb negru!
- Bine Alex, te cred, nu te enerva. Dar totuşi, nu înţeleg. De ce de trei ori în culori şi doar o dată alb negru?
- Uşile din ochii ei. U
Send Me the Raintoday, they're all talking about the fires.Send Me the Rain3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the people on TV, the voices on the radio,
the mouths that open and whisper
and softly touch tongues. even the sky is
revealing black plumes of smoke,
flaunting shameless and seductive curves.
the rain's been too dry and the lightning
isn't wet enough, panic is
rising out of control in this
burning city. that's
we have a crisis on
our hands- the balloons are
running out of air and even
the experts don't really know why,
and on top of those sinking rubber toys
my soul is losing moisture
faster than the crackling grass under the duress of flame.
i'm starting to see the subtle luscious contours
i might not exactly be news-worthy
but if i catch, then
the forest might too.
i'm considered a reasonable loss, however.
they heard it might storm tomorrow. and everybody knows
that means they'll be safe-
because they all talk about it.
it almost stormed-
the sky spat and then
thought better of it,
Come AwayCome Away11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
down upon you
as you sleep
Shaking your (bad dreams?)
Descending upon your unguarded face
I brush my mouth against your forehead
I will leave the engine... running.
I will slide
In behind you
with your skin
"Je viens á toi..."
..Peel back Your covers..
Skin t i n g l i n g against
The warm August night air
..Passions of the playa..
I purr against
The back of your neck...
"Come with me."
"Come through the looking glass."
"Come learn how to b u r n."