Empty sneakersA child's life is takenEmpty sneakers3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A mother suffers alone
Her house becomes a prison
It can never again be a home
Many dark hallways wait
Once filled with laughter and joy
But still many pictures hang
Of her lost little boy
Though her house holds many memories
There is nothing that haunts her more
Then those ratty, mud-stained sneakers
That sit empty by the door.
Each morning she wakes up alone
And pulls out of bed
She stares at that empty chair
Her heart full of dread
She passes out the door for work
No hand to hold her own
And there those shoes sit- much the same
Cold, worn and without a home.
Those shoes will always be the same
No rain to soak the soles
No mud will splatter up the sides
They will bear no more holes
They live a rather meaningless life
Their keeper has gone away
But their worthless presence lingers
And they are here to stay.
The mother knows there is no fix
But she holds her heart sore
Hoping one day her precious son's feet
Will be bare no more
It's been close to seven years now
What memoryI have always thought of memories and thoughts like paper. Sometimes, most of the time, they become buried under more present thoughts.What memory3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Then again, if every ordinary memory is written on white paper then the ones that stand out are written on colored paper. Some are brighter than others; grey, pink, red, blue, yellow and black. They hold emotions.
Along with these peculiarities of colors comes the other evident variation- size. Some are small, like a sticky-note or a secret letter. They're harder to remember even though you know they're there. Some are simply there. You remember them even though they hold no real significance. They are small simple things like swinging at a park or looking out your backyard window.
And then, of course, there are others. Ones that are so large and vivid that it is nearly impossible to ignore; while other memories file in and pile up on top these ones remain visible at all times. There are some of these that seem to be we
Hunted Chapter 1Benjamin Whest poked his head into yet another dusty room. "It's empty Dean!" He asked hopefully, "Can we leave now ?"Hunted Chapter 13 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Ben eyed the stonewalls that held this pile of rubble into a massive heap that reminded him of the wigwams they had made in art class out of paper clippings and clay. He scanned the walls around him and noticed that even the walls were scared and broken from years of abuse, graffiti and agony.
His older brother stopped analyzing a particular piece of writing just long enough to shoot his brother a stern look. "What's wrong with you? " He grinned mischievously, flickering his flashlight. "Is Benji afraid he'll see a ghost?" Dean broke into laughter at the momentary flash of shock that whipped across his brother's face.
Ben glared and wrestled the flashlight from his brother's hands. "Ghosts don't exist Dean."
"Course they don't."
Thank youThank youThank you4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Thank you for saving me from the darkness.
Thank you for helping me when I needed it the most.
Thank you for staying by my side those lonely nights.
Thank you for being my family.
Thank you for holding me when I needed your touch.
Thank you for telling me that I was strong when I knew I was weak.
Thank you lifting me up and helping me stand on my own two feet.
Thank you for seeing me for who I really was inside.
But most of all
Thank you for loving me.