ice queenShe takes you by the hipsice queen2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because she's too hungry
to appreciate the warmth
of your hands.
She transforms you with her fingers,
bending every edge till you're just her
ball, made of glass,
that she shakes once in a while.
She always preferred ice over sunshine.
And I can't stand the sight of her,
she chills me to the bone.
Because she has my whole world
in the palm of her hand
and I fear she might break it.
Hidden ColorsSo here we go again.Hidden Colors3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Trying to be friends?
Well let's face it,
we both changed in such a short time.
You want to give this a try once more.
You ask me again with those big hazel eyes.
As your sleek, black hair falls to your face.
You try for my trust yet again, with that hidden heart.
Hiding every emotion.
Keeping tears hidden inside
so no one will see.
This won't work again with your little secrets.
You close yourself off, as I open my heart.
I'm being more careful, but not too much.
You can still look inside me.
Look into these eyes still filled with feeling and color.
I'm telling the truth.
Showing all that's inside once again.
All you need to do is peek inside and see.
I'm trying for you, why can't you do the same?
I look into your hazel eyes and look for the truth.
All I see is the color disappear as a wall takes its place.
I'm being blocked out
by that heart I knew so well.
I see your mind in disarray.
So I will wait for a moment.
But I won't wait forever.
I'm opening up little b
Born AgainThe river, awake again, slips through the countryside,Born Again3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
violently vibrant like all things in the spring
as it drinks the snowy banks and swallows
the roads that did not read the caution signs.
The water heads for the coast in celebration
of the return of the warmth of the sun,
cause to laugh again, and dance barefoot in the grass.
The spring celebration is masked in religious pretext,
but the pagan appreciation for everyday rebirth
cannot be denied as even the most pious bare skin
and enjoy the sensuous flesh of the fruit that speckles
the lush green canvass with reds and blues,
The sweet taste has returned to the land,
the Holiness no longer entombed in ice,
divinity inhaled with each breath of air,
the land is baptized by the floodwaters
and all the sins of winter are forgiven.
Help MeMy bonesHelp Me3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Abuse, neglect, pain.
Harder to breathe with every blow.
I'd run and run and run
if there were somewhere left to go.
Shed your Tatters by the RiverGirl, shed your tatters by the riverShed your Tatters by the River3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but never shed a single tear.
Let them cling on to your sclera
as monsoon droplets to a mirror
and coalesce into the stream
of your translucent dreams -
your own personal
- just beneath your weary lids,
the lake where all your passions feed;
anger, fear, hatred, grief -
let them all simmer and sieve,
undisclosed, beneath your eyes,
'til all your feelings seem to phase
into one relentless sea
of compassionate placidity,
and your pure heart is moved
by stirrings of first love.
Girl, shed your tatters by the river
but never shed a single tear.
Red ShiftI. Stasis i.Red Shift1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
"I need to hide a body,"
Before a question is asked
I. Stasis ii.
I hang up on him
Wait for vivisection
Wait for him to call back
What he heard.
I can hear him
Go back to sleep.
II. Intravenous i.
He is alive.
Photos of him
Have a distant red shift
In his eye.
Photos of me
Have an approaching blue tint
In the iris.
I wait for him to call back
What he heard.
II. Intravenous ii.
For the others
I had hid a town or two away.
Won't break the cul-de-sac asphalt
Where forest floor
II. Intravenous iii.
I am postcards away
When a dissected victim
His tone is brisk,
As if his lips were scissortips
Splitting his tongue
"We're still attached to each other."
"Yah Ed, we are."
I was a phone call away
II. Intravenous iv.
At the church
Grass on your knees and water on my feet.The sky was a deep overwhelming blanket tucked into the spots our limbs couldn'tGrass on your knees and water on my feet.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
fill, and the stars were the brewing passion burning through the bruised fragments
of me, gobbling up all of my fear in flickers to tickle my secrets until they cried
mercy and gave themselves up to be saved by the gentle graze of your hands.
You filled and overfilled my arms until there was no room for me to hug the trees
anymore, but the wind carried my affection which moved the branches to find the
will to reach out to the sky, slowly caressing the invisible clouds back and forth,
forth and back, and the perfect crescent moon married them over and over until
the sun would stop hiding and they could all stand face to face again, unveiled.
The blades of grass were tiptoeing timidly across our backs until the power of the
weight of our yearning bodies urged them into a run and sent them rolling and
crashing into one other, taking all the chances we quickly forgot to cower from,
falling in love from a simpl
MeowThe feline within me wants to laze on your pillow all day long.Meow4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She yowls and cries when locked out of your room
and demands the quilt on your bed as well.
The feline within me wants to sunbathe on the window sill.
She wants you to leave your plants there, too
in case she gets hungry during her nap.
The feline within me is conceited.
She is the most important thing in your life
and she demands you know that.
Pet her. Tell her stories. Cuddle with her everyday.
If the feline within isn't your one and only princess
she will scratch your furniture and steal your socks.
EntrenchmentsSomeday, we will come backEntrenchments2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When you walk among your fields
That lay peaceful in the pink sunset
You will remember the blood
And we will be here once more
When the noonday sun
Specks the silent plow with diamonds
You shall think of bayonets
And screams that tore as they fell
When your children run among the grasses
Shining ethereal in the twilight
You shall think of ghosts
And of ghost children that never were
The world has forgotten us
The earth will not forget
In our memory, is our revenge
SequoiaA soldier stands alone in a field,Sequoia3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
His feet firmly rooted to the ground.
He hears the birds fly far overhead,
Though he utters not a single sound.
He's fought many battles in this field,
A veteran of a thousand wars.
He stood strong 'gainst his enemies' knives
And sheltered the helpless from the storms.
He dueled the one who whispers sweetly,
Stood his ground against thunderous cries.
Still he plants his feet so deeply,
This soldier standing tall and ready,
Soaking in the rain so steady--
In endless quest for cloudless skies.
The Word DancerYou don't have to be born with angels singing in celebration or the heaven pouring tears over your birth to be extraordinary. And so it was with the Word Dancer.The Word Dancer2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She was born to a very normal pair of parents in a very normal hospital room at 10:43 a.m. on an unremarkable Monday morning. She progressed like all children do, clumsily but surely. In fact, words didn't always even mean something to her. They were just- what else- words. Or more like noises. You know, things you fling out when you happen to be hungry now and your mother simply doesn't understand. Or that you whimper when you don't want the nice doggie to leave. Actually, the first time that words started to shape the Word Dancer was quite a time after she learned how to read.
It was most likely with her first book that she picked up that didn't have pictures to accompany the words like ladies to a ball. She would not be able to tell you the name of the book- it's not important, anyway- but she remembers taking in the
into the sea belowa lock on a door, in a place well-knowninto the sea below11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the withered-windy-whisper wood, whickered-flickered candlelight
soft illuminations and hints of dazzling-decked, twin-leafed
cardinal vascular canvas.
a musical blend of blue and grey.
the lock on a door, in a place well-worn
beneath the melancholy-painted, cerulean-white cliffs
and the tri-pigment, undertone-hued sky
never can meet with its widow-burned key.
singular musical drops unwittingly fly
only to fragment and fall
into the sea below.
Over Three Stories and a Complete DiscordanceThe serious intent of a mirror wakes the world. Of the mirror that makes the world we know very little. Just rumors of an open mouth vibrating up and up to the clouds. So the bright grey cracks the dull grey and something, we'll call it the sun, reaches through and grabs us by the skin.Over Three Stories and a Complete Discordance2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The members of an invisible happiness swim colors between one another. They cannot tell the difference between windows and mirrors, light coming and light going, places where the light has been. They hold the air with both hands and speak with sounds of trees, their language a lifting flock of hallelujahs.
From beneath tongues, mirrors exhume light.
The world is a muddle of mirrors. Reflected from reflection by reflection, we wait. We are intent on getting serious just as soon as vibrating clouds wake the dull grin.
Writer's CPR.Stops breathing. Grabs keyboard. Inhales. Exhales.Writer's CPR.3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Artist, Take Up--Oh beautiful artist, take up yourArtist, Take Up--2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Dark materials and sketch
Hold this moment and that
Tight; Caress the grass and the
Trees with your pencil,
Let your pen sing love songs to
The curves of this face,
The soft textures of hair and fur and shirt and skin-
Oh artist, take up
The lonely calling, yours and
The child who waches in her own world,
That painting that lies on the wall...
As a lover, woo:
The world, our playmate and nursemaid,
Loves to be flattered. She will
Stand still for you for years and years,
Mountains holdingh patiently for
Many portraits over millenia,
3 in the AfternoonHappiness is when the door clicks shut3 in the Afternoon2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
at 3 in the afternoon and sunlight
stalks in uninvited through the blinds,
making a sepia mess of the room, and you
are waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting
in the sunken sofa cushion like a lost
nickel looking to be found. The truth is
you found me, standing just inside
the doorway like a stray animal brought
home for the first time, imbalanced
ragged and confused. I stumbled on myself
that first time, making more contact
with the floor, tables and walls than I
did with you. In some respects, that
hasn't changed. I trip on my feet,
walk into walls and door frames still,
but every now and then I bump into you
and remember what makes this home, what
makes you home.
strawberriesdrops of rain explodestrawberries2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
into colors on your outstretched hands,
blossoming as roses
like bright ripe strawberries.
and when you roam enchanted gardens,
nothing is ever as it seems
one moment a blade of grass
and the next one of many feathers
on the wing of a bird
about to take flight.
no matter how you try
gravity is wiser,
and you are bound to come down from the clouds.
millions of heartbeats like yours
all search for the same thing
and will find each other someday.
WinterHer cold hands trace the lands spreading pallor;Winter4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
In their wake, antique lace of crystal ice-
Scrimshaw tracery of pale frost flowers;
Tears a fickle flurry from fragile skies-
But bitter is her wintered breath the wind,
And ghostly the sound of its satin sighs;
Blue-veined deep the frozen lake of her skin;
Her voice a swansong of icicle lies-
Skeletal spine studded with evergreen-
The sheen of her shimmering white-wove veil
Crowned with holly bush and poinsettia leaf;
Her eyes drowning blue, her skin ghostly pale.
The Puppet MasterSheltered by a solid tower,The Puppet Master4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Upon a throne of ivory,
Dwelleth he at every hour,
His shadow falleth down to thee.
And his very shadow's crown
thou blindly wanderest along,
until thou seest its piercing end.
Thine eyes thou humbly keepest down,
although the urge is truly strong
thy field of vision to amend.
"Your majesty?" thou callst for him,
as thou drawest nearer to his throne.
The light beginneth just to dim
as earthquake in its dreadful tone,
a roaring sound of rumbling stone,
it covereth thy fearful moan.
Soon thou seest two skillful claws,
which keepeth each a wooden stick
with strings robustly tied around,
to which thine arms and legs are bound.
They languish, tighten, thereby cause
thy rotten limbs to punch and kick.
The King, he wanteth thou to dance,
to the somber war beat of his hands.
Submissively thou wilt obey
in spite of what the future brings.
Thou either beest his molding clay
or hangest by thy puppet strings.
spare change.so i dreamt of you last night.spare change.4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
as usual, you are with me, but as usual, i can't find you. so i scream your name, again and again until my throat goes raw and i wake, with my fists clenched, swallowing my sobs.
and i see him there, lying peacefully on his side, stray strands of hair fluttering under his breath as he sleeps. i look at him and your name pops into mind, but it's wrong.
i fear i'll say something i shouldn't, and he'll just love me more. i know when he wakes, he'll flash me a smile that breaks hearts. he'll ask for a morning kiss, and that's when your name will run repeatedly over and over in my head and spill over onto my lips. and i'll pray he doesn't taste it there.
he'll run the tub for me, somehow knowing the perfect temperature and amount of soap suds. he'll wash my hair for me, fingers trailing along my skin, and my tears will fall into the mixture of warm water and bubbles, leaving no trace, just a little extra salt.
he'll make me coffee, a pot of warmth and c
bleeding out.bleeding out.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i. there's blood everywhere. it's all different shades of red. crimson, scarlet, blazing ruby. darkened in some places. it's slipping into the water and adorning it pink.
ii. pink. thulian. rose. carmine. puce. (puce is a yucky word, it sounds like throwup.) nadeshiko. coral. persian. carnation. salmon. pink in the water and its slipping out over the whitewashed walls onto the floor and it's going to drip and go through the ceiling like that one time a couple years ago. i hope dad doesn't get mad.
iii. it doesn't hurt anymore.
iv. it's sunshine outside and everyone is smiling. i'm a kid again and the world is all crayons and swingsets and people and i can see butterflies.
v. promise me you'll take care of yourself.
vii. your smile is what's in my head. you had pretty teeth. they were white because you didn't eat the junk food that made me fat you wished you could though. diabetics never have any fun.
viii. i can practically feel my body deflating like a balloo
Girl, Reincarnated.Perhaps in a past life you were made of ink,Girl, Reincarnated.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your eyes speckled like blotting paper,
complexion smooth as parchment.
And maybe your voice was storm cloud rolling
because I see your words
and they fill my heart with rain,
not the heavy kind that revels
in punching holes in butterfly wings but rather
the mist that paints the dew and
leaves the sky beautifully grey.
At the very least your soul was a mourning dove,
as there's a lilting sorrow in your words
that the air carries like a melody,
were I to speak them aloud
I would sing, hoping that my voice wouldn't shake
with your weeping.
ThinWhen I was growing up my mother never kept a scale in the house. I never noticed this as a child. I was accustomed to checking my weight visiting my grandmother's house; a monthly checkup just for fun. Yet every child reaches an age where the numbers staring back at them start to mean something. When I reached this point, I asked my mother why we didn't own a scale.Thin3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
She looked at me with serious eyes and said, "Because I know how easy it is to get obsessed over such things. I don't want you to have to go through that."
I love you for preventing it as long as you could, Mom.
Rarely in my life have I met a person and even so much as noticed how much they weigh. These things never occur to me. I'm more preoccupied with who the person is: their personality, their character, their humor. Keeping a constant record of the weight of people I meet has never even seemed an option.
That said, I have always had a disconcerting little obsession with my own weight.
It started out so simple and innoc
once.the world was wider, once: strewn brightonce.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and willing to a fingertip's beckoning, riddled
with roads that spilled in breathless wanders
to otherlands of reverie. i remember
the promise i made a wild changeling child
before i bade her hush and say goodnight --
i've not woken her since: she sleeps and i steal
her spun-glass dreams for my garden
of wilt, ever longing to hold
the ghost-dance that spins by their dying light.