summer breezes.she said, "when i die i want to become the wind,summer breezes.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so i won't be bound by anything at all."
she said, "when i cry i want to save my tears,
so they'll harden into stones prettier than diamonds."
he said, "if you died i'd miss you.
thanks for telling me where to go."
he said, "if you cried i'd kiss you
and comfort you as best i could."
he smiles gently
as she grins and laughs,
and she throws her hands up
while he wishes that instead,
she'd put her hands
but she's as wild as the wind.
Ghost TownNo bird flies or sings a songGhost Town6 years ago in Open More Like This
In the bitter violet sky
No door creaks slowly open
To reveal a joyful eye
And no children cheer happily
On the road where they were born
And no close friends even chatter
In a place thats so forlorn
No laughter from the houses
And no laughter in the air
And no-one cries an ocean
Because there is no-one there
No trees are softly swaying
Rustling gently in the wind
No sweet voices of sweet lovers
And the sun itself has dimmed
No musician on the corner
Singing songs right from his heart
No-one singing songs of romance
And no-one even tries to start
Its all just blacked out windows
In this desolate ghost town
No mockingbirds are singing
No feet upon the ground
And nothing makes a sound
They say silence is golden
But is that the truth?
ReunionHelloReunion6 years ago in Other More Like This
I always am. You've forgotten already.
Your ribs... I can feel them through my shirt
They're pretty right? I've been working for them for three months now. In two weeks they should be perfect.
I've forgotten how short you are.
Your chin is digging into my scalp.
Your hair smells.
Burnt wood and cigarettes. Put that out, you know I can't go home smelling like that.
Just say it's me. Shit, my throat kills.
My parents will kill me, you know that. And I wonder why.
I thought you were going to wait until we graduated.
voicebox uglies.addiction.voicebox uglies.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she scribbles the word into her
left hand, ties it to a heartstring
and flyflyflies it like a kite.
her eyes are a powdery-blue tear
stained mess. she can`t take more
steps. quiet words crawl up to her
and enter her skin through her toes,
she is a mess.
her routine is simple. broken,
fixed, broken, fixed. lose more
pieces of yourself. break again.
be fixed by pretty words that
promise you no more hurting
and you`re okay, and i love you
and am not going to lose you.
she can`t. she is pushpushed and
keeps up her running. the words
dry her mouth, and her fingertips
are tired and
she feels worn down, but she feels
like she is not doing enough.
powder blue runs through her. through
hair, and oceans that run underneath
paper skin, and eyes, of course. powder
blue leaks out of her and turns red,
and clear, and rainbow, and sunshine.
she falls into routine, again. cry, stop,
cry, stop, cry. she hates routine. she
hates everytimes. she is tired of a
desire.she wants to be the girl with the sunshine smile -desire.7 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
the one who could brighten your day
with a bat of her firefly eyes and
giggle of summertime laughter.
she wants to be the girl they say
they love so much and never want to lose,
because that's all she's never been to
the people called her family in that
place they call a home.
she wants to be the girl that is
remembered for making everyone happy,
even when she never knew the feeling.
the girl whose smile stretched further than
her fragile, breaking heart and who could
lie through her teeth with the best of them.
she wants to be the girl in the
yearbook, splattered across pages in
photos of bright-eyed youth.
so long, she says, as it's in color.
because her whole life's been in black-and-white
and every storm deserves a rainbow at the end.
and most of all,
she wants to be the girl who believes in miracles,
wishes on shooting stars and prayers at 11:11.
but she knows they're only empty words -
just like she knows she will never be the
prescription.Little orange bottles,prescription.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
With little white caps.
Problem solving, talking it out:
They're trivial, archaic things.
We've got your solution mass-marketed
And ready for business.
Take two of these
And call me in the morning.
SolitudeLeave him to his solitudeSolitude5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where the light bulb lurches
over the bed
making love to the dark
huddled against the ceiling
and the blankets all are beaten
like wayward apologies.
Let the clock by his pillow
break the sad news
and tally the lies
of her comings
and their coupling
under the canopy
of weightless flesh
where love once disturbed their sleep
and her arms still ached enough
to break their fall.
For midnight will catch the floor
like it always does
the upwelling of her words
left bristling in the carpet
and send him spilling
in the dark
like blistered silk
setting sadly into the dawn -
just another memory
found missing in the morning.
how to say i love you-shut uphow to say i love you-6 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
and leave me alone.
Algeny, Chapter One.AlgenyAlgeny, Chapter One.6 years ago in Socio-political More Like This
The young doctor sat with a sigh, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. Moving very slowly, he pulled out and spoke very quietly, but gravely, into a tape recorder.
"Audio log of Dr. Ian Kovane, 25 January 2041." He sighed briefly before continuing.
"Vanity has been an integral part of the human psyche, the human spirit, and all human society since the beginning of time. It has always existed; it will always exist."
A man trudged quickly through a seemingly endless field of snow. Ahead of him, trees swayed in the breeze of a coming storm. His child rested, wrapped in tattered, grey blankets, in his arms. He had begun to lull her to sleep with a gentle lullaby as they walked tirelessly through the frozen landscape.
Despite the thick layers of ragged clothes and blankets between them, the little girl felt her father's heart beat like a war drum.
Fear had set in and the wolves were upon them.<
memories.some say we are ghosts,memories.6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
mere wisps of what once was.
some say we are dead,
hiding underground, unmoving.
some say we are forgotten,
fading as our hearts beat slower every day.
i say we are solid,
we are just invisible to the blind.
Cendre et PoussiereShe stood in the cold and crisp November air, flicking ashes from a cigarette into the breeze. Her expression was as frigid as the ice on the ground; her hair was a coffee sort-of brown like her eyes. Short, she was voluptuous in the true sense of the word.Cendre et Poussiere6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Her name was Noyer.
She threw the cigarette to the pavement and extinguished it, bare foot. She walked on into the day, observing nothing, observing everything. Where she'd come from and why was a mystery even to her. Daughter to no mother, no fathershe was an orphan of the mother earth.
In the deep pocket of her coal black wool coat, she had a cashier's check written out to Noyer Reynolds for the sum of $20,000 from the account of David Reed, Jr.
Her memories were an anthology of lives she'd never lived. She was a writer, a singer, a painter, a pianist, an architect, a doctor, a teacher, an engineer. She had seen everythi
versus reality.'okay, let`s wish together.' is what he saidversus reality.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to her, and she told him yes and they danced
and sang and ran on the borderline of love
because they are teenagers and that is what
teenagers do. she will grab his hand and they
will kiss and it will be magic. so magic that
she will have a highhigh selfissteam and he
will forget that she is breaking in his hands
and they will say that their happiness is for
forever and eternity even though she knows that
forever and eternity is really only until
next friday, because she is not a hold onto kind
of girl and he is not a holding on kind of boy.
even though he thinks that forever and
eternity means for this moment for every moment.
she will wish for them to be happy together and
he will say that is lame even though he wished
for the exact same thing, and they both know
that their eyesmindshearts love each other but
their bodies are still bones in unstretched skin
and they are awkward and fumbling put together
especially when they are creating lov
avifauna villahis feet are bare and openavifauna villa6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
herringbones of pentecostal bracken
like two birds frozen in the nest;
a nametag is lashed upon his breast,
wilderness homely and pure,
his praline token unsung
as he works it like a moat
churning honey pinwheels
that hibernate between inlets
in the heads of children.
names turn their faces, like the shaken joy
of turtle dove couplets.
only subsidiary bodies-
pebbles shamed into the grey-belly well
like beasts with bloody noses
can keep from sinking
from his geometry of words,
steely discuses oxidizing on the tongue
in nematic anchors.
like the tree that snaps the boulder, schisms
diluted and starry-eyed
by the river's throaty sheen-
the tension has a fissure, a wall of brick he must devein.
the mountains clap against the soles
of an evening gleaned from taxonomy
tinged letters, the tips budding s
I Walked Twenty Blocks TonightI walked twenty blocks tonightI Walked Twenty Blocks Tonight6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your nesting habits
my flight patterns
how that might not
be all that conducive, maybe
to any sort of real
The thing, though,
the thing is
while I have seen
Modern ImplicationsWhat do you celebrateModern Implications6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When the CLOCK has stopped ticking?
When the young will not age,
And the old do not die?
What is the American dream,
If none of us can sleep?
And you stranglehold the truth,
So that fear consumes the mind.
What will become of us?
If they strip away our souls,
And re-renovate with dollar bills,
Will we burn in hell?
And will we even care?
Murder at the Moulin RougeMurder at the Moulin Rouge7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Her world was like kid gloves
kissing the curves of her thighs
silk masks and champagne
and promises from voyeurs
thick velvet curtains
and stars gone bad.
She had a mouth made for secrets
and begging candy from strangers
that whispered the plots
lovers swept under sheets
and green eyes that dipped
below the horizon
of his dreams.
And he came every night
to sit and watch
the sin of her hips
taste the black silk tafetta
of her petticoats as she danced
in buckled slippers
oblivious to the men
and moon above her.
His desire was like Absinthe
trickling down a dirty spoon
dark tongues and nectar
and dreams ripped from blade bones
heavy velvet ropes
and gutted streets.
He had a need honed in damage
and sickly lies for strangers
that promised mayhem
blooming under a stagnant gaze
liked a stunted moon
with its swollen grin
and dwarf eyes.
And he dreamed every night
of touching her
his hands savoring
the brittle tear and crushing
of her scented skin a
I dream of you.sometimes,I dream of you.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I dream that
we sneak out
and run through
the pitch black streets
and spend the entire night
under the moonlight
staring at the stars
and huddle close,
to keep warm
during that cold night
so close that
we can hear
each other's heart beat.
I'll wake up
we can make it reality.
She is... She is the one who can make music with her eyes closed. She can string melodies together with piano fingers and a sunshine voice to go with it. Her fingers are like dancers on dusty keys, crying out beauty into the cerulean sky as the wind hums and dusk begins its decent. Her voice is like dewdrops on willow boughs and honey on lily pads.She is...5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
She will write me a lullaby to put me to rest when the stars are out and I can't fall asleep.
She is the one who is always late on her arrival. She is the one who promises that she'll be on time next time, but she says it with a smile that melts the mind and renders words unintelligible. She is the one who takes my hand in the hallways and walks me through the throngs of people, but I feel like it's just the two of us as each step pushes us closer together.
Like Tomorrow Will Never ComeWe're still young,Like Tomorrow Will Never Come5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with s i n g s o n g children's voices in our throats,
and beautiful muddy footprints in our hearts.
We're still beautiful,
with lopsided smiles,
and laughs that make the sun's heart ache.
So grab my hand,
and I'll show you the sunshine,
hidden under bluebell wings,
and butterfly petals.
We'll run in circles,
just to make my dress twirl,
and our lungs burn
(in the good kind of way.)
We'll jump in the rain,
with laughter pealing
trying to outscream the storm.
We'll camp under the stars,
with only the velvet black canopy as our tent,
counting the stars,
and naming each one after a reason we love each other.
We'll make paper airplanes,
with our wishes written on the wings,
throwing them to the sky,
to show that we have no limit on what we can do.
We'll ride bareback on our horses,
that look just like us,
until we've gotten lost in the blueberry patches,
dying our lips purple,
and leaving secret kisses on each other's
The Red RoadThe Red Road5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
There is a Red Road
That stretches from Cape Town to the Elysium Fields
And on that road there is a pit stop at Robben Island
To a prisoner's cell, prisoner 46664
Where the heart of a hero
Was once born
There is a Red Road
That runs from Berlin to Hades
And on the road there is a pit stop at the Biederitz River
Where the brutal ashes of a man named Adolf
Drift away in the currents
There is a Red Road
That lies between Poland to Zion
And on that road there is a pit stop at Auschwitz
Where the spirits of the dead
Still gather at the Death Wall
There are a million pit stops to be made
On the myriad paths of the interwoven labyrinths
That bind us together and tear us apart
Warning you and me of the potholes & pitfalls
On the Red Road that is the World
Telling us in a whisper "Don't forget it"
Telling us in a prayer "Don't repeat it"
©2010 Sarah Donnelly
In urma...In urma...6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Bazaitul enervant al radioului vechi de pe pervaz umplea linistea taioasa din incapere. Ma uitam la el si simteam ca-l vad mai clar ca niciodata, stand acolo, indiferent, fumandu-si tigara.
Si desi stiam ca nu e bine, ma durea nimicul dintre noi. Ma ardea golul imens pe care-l simteam in tot corpul. Uram dorinta inimii mele carpite de a simti bratele lui in jurul meu, buzele lui peste ale mele.
El ma distrusese, dar adanc inauntrul meu inca tanjeam sa aud scartaitul parchetului cand el intra in casa, zambind. Invatasem sa iubesc durerea care ma tinea aproape de el. Imi provoca chin si-mi placea. Eram impreuna. Atat de aproape si totusi atat de departe.
Acum nu mai zambea.
Dispretul sau era atat de evident,puteam sa-l citesc in ridurile fine care i se formau in coltul gurii. Ridica privirea si se uita la mine. Ochii sai din care se prelingea incet o nepasare fierbinte imi aminteau de ce ma aflam chiar in acel moment in fata usii, cu mana pe clanta ruginita. Ciudat, lacrimile refuzau
learn from your mistakes"he was just a boy. i knew him better than anyone else, except maybe his brother. he told me he could never like me because i knew him too well. i never really thought i was in love with him, i just made myself think that i could be. he messed with my head, my heart, my body. he held me close and he was the first boy i ever fell asleep with. he kissed my lips and his fingertips trailed their way over my skin like fire, and he made me feel dangerous. i didn't see what he was doing to me until it was too late; i didn't love him, but i knew i wanted him. and i wanted him to want me back. i knew he used me and i didn't care. he made my stomach too sick to eat and my chest too hurt to much to breathe. he was the reason why my trembling fingertips lit cigarettes late at night and why i put them out on my bare skin. i snuck out what felt like hundreds of times just to see his face. i listened to him talk for hours just to hear his voice. everything he said was like poetry to me. i kept him anlearn from your mistakes6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Dripping with PersonificationBlood sang. What a cliche.Dripping with Personification6 years ago in Surrealism More Like This
Cause that's not what it's doing
in my veins today.
burning and telling.
Secrets aren't meant to be told.
So I put the blade away-
wont cut myself today.
Cause that trickling stream
once started- it would
And now it's dancing
of Lust stories of Freedom
and mostly stories of
Cause I shattered that promise
and now cells rush about
I'm glad to be rid of them
and their extra baggage-weight.
But the knife wont
had thought the little guy
to be on my side.
Pearly chrome gives way
to Scarlet hauntings.
better to be rid
of this blood now-
before it could cause