Worlds Muse Song is the voice of the museWorlds Muse5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It inspires art
The brush is the hand of the muse
It draws the art of the world
Dreamers"Mummy, I want to be a dreamer when I grow up."Dreamers5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The little child sat propped in her bathtub, foam covering everything except her head, which burst with wet golden curls. Her hands scooped at the foam before her, covering her skin in bubbly snow. She threw her hands upwards, letting the bubbles fly, watching them take flight and descend on her mother's hair. They popped, one by one, and she giggled.
"You can't be a dreamer when you grow up," said her mother, sitting on a pink stool next to the bathtub. Her sad tawny eyes surveyed her only child, her mistake. Bitterness tore at her features, turning them haggard and twisted, but the child saw nothing but the hazelnut face of her mother.
"Why not, Mummy?"
"It's not a job. You can't earn money from it." Despite her bitterness, the mother allowed a small smile. Innocence was such a smile-inducing phenomenon.
"Well, I don't care," the child scooped another handful of foam, letting it sag in her petite hands, "I want to be a dreamer wh
Magic WandDragons fly through poison skies, their whispers in the windMagic Wand9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Ladybugs in black sandcastles, scratches on your skin
Hopscotch over quicksand, and a castle made of dirt
Shining silver crowns and dancing 'round in spinning skirts
Bloody, ruined princesses locked up in towers tall
Watching as the prince quickly begins to fall
Slowly, as the innocence does take her darling life
Please do watch now, as the magic wand becomes a knife...
Little Red HousesLittle red house on the corner left to fadeLittle Red Houses9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Tire swing swaying above a sparkling blade
Silver gown, just for the hour
Starts out sweet then you taste the sour
A little girl's heart doesn't last for long
When a little girl gone right goes horribly wrong
One little fall means blood on the breeze
Little red house with a ghost to please.
PoetryIf poetry is art,Poetry3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
shouldn't mine be better?
Shouldn't I be able to show off my artistic genes,
and accomplish my artistic dreams,
and not end up living off of cans of beans,
buying crappy used jeans,
because i'm living beyond my means?
Well, I certainly hope things don't turn out that way.
So I guess i'll make a living off of something with better pay.
I suppose i'd better start to pray,
That I do end up becoming a therapist one day.
At least I hope so.
'Cause this poem sucks.
The Face At The DoorThe face at the door is a demon, a godThe Face At The Door1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
He smiles through stitches, his stare rather odd
The face at the door is a cruel, silent being
Yet, people are calm, and the children aren't fleeing
Quiet yourself, for you're the only one
Crying for help at the point of a gun
Learn how to fly, rather, learn how to fall,
The face at the door... well... there's no face at all.