Twisted MemoriesTwisted Memories7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The head of the bay filly shot up with a start, her beautiful blue eyes huge. She slowly looked around, her proud head carried on her blood colored neck. She slowly got up, her long legs trembling slightly.
She looked around at the lively forest, once it had been filled with the sounds of wild horses. Now the quite forest was a reminder of what had happened to her herd so long before, it seemed.
She walked forward slowly, her tangled tail whipped against her hocks. She despised them, the two-leg monsters that stolen her herd. She snorted angrily at the thought, her eyes blazed with fire. She remembered her mother being driven away from her, while her dad was driven the other way, and her screaming herd. She had done nothing but run as they were taken away, never to be wild again.
No! She screamed at herself, throwing her front hooves in the air. The battle within her had about driven her mad. She wanted to race away from this place, to find another herd, but something held
Memoirs of AtlantaThe only stars in this cityMemoirs of Atlanta7 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
are grimy yellow-white streetlights,
accented by red
from the tails of cars.
And she sang:
Where can I find hope
in a life of dull concrete dolls
speckled by lonely kites
trailing brown-root trails?
And she whispered:
skewed on clammy asphalt
almost look like a morbid fountain
of Christmas sorts
To which I replied:
the only stars are streetlights;
Christmas bulbs direct death
Look above the sky,
search deeper than yourself.
And she cried:
pinball machine lights
illuminate paths to everyones nowhere,
(lit by the eyes of your murder-machine toy)
and she prayed:
I saw a church zone sign
What does that mean?
Beware of Christians, they judge?
Or perhaps it means safe place; home?
To which I replied:
lifes a game, weighted two ways
steeples paste warning posts
Dig further than this skin
but bleed not, bleed not.
(dig a map)
And she swore:
Im driving blind
FFAAt the Ag building we have lots of fun.FFA8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Our president is by the rising sun.
We do lots of things in the FFA;
I hate leaving at the end of each day.
The Pennsylvania Farm Show is the best,
And it will always rise above the rest.
There are many classes you can choose from:
Landscape, wildlife, forestry are just some.
We will plant some flowers and watch them grow,
And then we cut and tie them with a bow.
There are fish in a tank we take care of;
We all take turns giving them lots of love.
Chaney, Watson, Lewis, and Paul are great.
Their ways of teaching are really first rate.
We raise animals till butchering time,
Or if they are sold to the nearest dime.
We sell steers, heifers, pigs and even lambs;
Every March we sell some bacons and hams.
The teams have practice almost every night;
When they compete they will be out of sight.
We have a banquet that's held every year;
People bring dishes of chicken and deer.
At meetings we discuss important things.
Once in a while the group even sings.
Bones are the New BlackBones are the New Black10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Slide round my waist
Pull tight, don't be shy
I love your glossy surface
It's almost like a high
Cold and gritty pads
Scour undeserving feet
The numbers flash in red
It's good, but can it be beat?
Run faster, harder, you can
Don't give up just yet
Sweat out every piece of fat
And Bone Deep is what you'll get
Beauty is only skin deep
A nice aphorism indeed
But Beauty is only skin and bones
Is quickly gaining the lead
So I'll kneel over the toilet
Till the skin comes off my knees
And I'll refuse every éclair
Until food stops being a tease
Because everyone is obese
And I just can't stand to conform
But hold up, wait a minute
Skinny is now the norm!
Cold ExpectationsThe intention is there to bring togetherCold Expectations9 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
The closer you get the more you hurt each other
The state of affection, your passions, monsters, your inflaming love
The very virtue of your compassion bring fire to the cold hope
Caught on a cold night, yet you are together
You stand in coldest expectation
In your attempt to warm the sickness in your heart, you killed the fly
Then what could death do, if you're torn apart
On that dark hour you resolve yourselves apart, stung by desire
Simple harmonic motion brings you back the spite of love's fire
Cold night, cold hope, cold expectation
Flash back hope.. The cold will get to you again
When beauty lived and repeated then
Only to repeat the process you can't see the candle
You burn yourselves and fly into the flame, into flame
Cupid is a wicked winged bastard, but I saw him fly
After a butterfly and when he caught it, he let it go.
Yet such immortal strife a compromise is made
It tutors nature in this tumultuous life, pain's debt is paid
..silhouettes and broken glass..silhouettes and broken glass9 years ago in Erotic More Like This
A boy and a girl, two completely different worlds.
Something was once held so close between them.
But time passes and feelings fade away.
Nothing can bring together a moment that no longer exists.
No matter how many times memories are re-enacted in hazy minds, the truth remains.
We are all alone.
A wine bottle stands open on a table, and glasses scatter around it. Reflections dance off the light from the glass, distorted and discoloured. Each person interacts with others, keeping their most inner thoughts safely hidden. There's a mask we all wear, don't forget to make sure its firmly in place before you step out
Or you just
Back into the past.
A warm room, people laugh. Couples huddle together, feeding off the warmth from each other's bodies and the alcohol flowing through their blood.. Feeding their lust with suggestive looks from eyes that don't quite connect.
Is it love?
Or just another night to pass the time.
He has his hand on her arm as he looks into your eyes.
From Darth Mommy's KitchenFrom Darth Mommy's Kitchen7 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
* 1 package Pillsbury® Refrigerated Pie Crusts
* 1 cup chopped onion (1 large)
* 1 cup sliced fresh mushrooms
* 1/2 cup chopped yellow sweet pepper (1 small)
* 2 tablespoons butter or margarine
* 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
* 1/4 teaspoon salt
* 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
* 1 pinch paprika
* 1 pinch garlic pepper
* 1-1/2 cups chicken broth
* 1 cup cream
* 2-1/2 cups chopped, cooked gizka
* 1 cup loose-pack frozen corn
* 1 cup loose-pack frozen peas
* 1 egg, beaten
This Land Built on the SunThis Land Built on the Sun11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
"What is life but a broken plan? What is a poem but a broken man? In a place beyond the blink of our eyes, the heat will rise."
I wrote a world yesterday.
The stars seemed not so far away,
for a silhouette of shattered dreams
and broken lovers' ripping seams.
Heinous crimes have been committed
but arsenic itself has been acquitted,
and with the sigh of morning death
the stars themselves have lack of breath,
but the lilies sing a mourning song
of soaring battles and heroes gone
and daisies gather round to hear
the tales of men and lacking fear.
And what memories remain to kill,
that scorched contempt that continues still,--
our dances dance, but not the same
to a tune never played again.
That winning spree has finally worn,
that poetry that only scorns.
but hearts and hate could live as one
in this land built on the sun.
Hearing was once some gift,
too precious a gem to even lift.
What once were the words I hear
are now only static-unclear.
Tearful notes that none could best,
Tips For Writing Flash Fictionby Stephen R. Smith with excerpts by Kathy KachelriesTips For Writing Flash Fiction6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
In order to improve as a writer, you need feedback. It's difficult to write something the size of a novel, and equally difficult to carve out the time required to read one and provide any sort of meaningful critique on it. This severely handicaps the feedback loop so important for the aspiring writer.
Flash Fiction on the other hand allows you to exercise all of your story writing and editing skills while creating works that can be read in a few minutes. This makes it ideal for examining ideas, developing writing skills and getting the feedback needed to help elevate you in your craft. Note that while Flash Fiction stories can be read in a few minutes, you shouldn't expect to write them that quickly.
Kathy Kachelries, founder of 365tomorrows, had this to say about Flash Fiction:
"The most concise and widely-cited example of flash fiction is the story Ernest Hemingway penned, allegedly to settle a bar bet: For sale: baby shoes.
Classified - Day 1ClassifiedClassified - Day 18 years ago in Humor More Like This
My school has this policy to make two kids clean up the classroom every lunchtime. Classroom monitors, they call them. It’s on a rota system and it’s designed to teach kids responsibility and stuff. Personally, I think it’s just an excuse for teachers to drink lots of cups of tea.
Being ten years old, I wasn’t up to much critical analysis of the British education system, but I knew that allowing two aliens to become classroom monitors was not very responsible.
Of course, teachers never believe you.
"They're not, they're just new students."
"But I looked in the dictionary and it said--"
"Matthew! They're just new students, now drop it."
Entirely unsure of whether my teacher knew I had a worm in my hand or not, I decided to play it safe and put it in my back pocket.
I went outside for play time as usual and plotted against the aliens.
As soon as I got outside, however, I was hit in the groin by a football. This was initiation in
Sonnet XXXIIIThe ghost of dawn has drifted through the door,Sonnet XXXIII9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A mantle thin upon her graying frame.
Her steps are soft where others fall no more,
Her touch is cold where once thy body lay.
If bitter poison douses bitter pain,
Then call it wine, and I shall drink my fill.
If beating give a broken heart complaint
Then mercy, if it shudder and be still.
If this, thy still-warm bolster, be the stone
To mark our love's interment and its end,
Then let its tatters shroud my weary bones
And I shall call it peace to lie therein;
So well enough, with love beside me dead,
That I should slumber breathless in thy bed.
AITAIT12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She promised him it wouldn't last long
But she wasn't right yet; it wasn't right yet
She left him alone and fumbling for some tangible
Explanation to why she had to go.
I didn't have choice.
The wrong people seemed to fall in with her like a magnet.
20 miles away, or maybe even a thousand.
She called and left messages to ease his fears.
So he would know she was alive, and still, not to love her.
I didn't have a choice.
She spilled some red wine on a guest of his one night.
She was beaten and stomped to the point she pleaded and cried
For her daddy to stop! She'd be a good girl now!
She promises to be a good girl!
I didn't have a choice.
Doorknob shaped bruises accented quietly beneath her
Pretty blonde hair, now with pretty maroon high-lights.
Sleeping in the fetal position until her nighttime guest
Would rip he legs apart and fuck her just for affect.
I didn't have a choice.
She wore her bruises like scarlet letters or black, blue, and red badges
Me, the Beast withinThis pride that runs through meMe, the Beast within8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Unbound by these walls that I can't see
Saving lives only to lose my own
Why these strides I had to have sown
Selfless warrior that lights the night
Fighting back evil with all his might
Up the mountain and through the cave
Never stops thinking about the life he must save
Not questioning his strength nor his will
Battling fiercely to win this hill
His body is not mine or his
A shield, exactly what thine is
Emotion is an object used to gain
He will be so, to protect their pain
The world needs Heroes to Shove
Heroes also need someone to Love
The Colour Of MidnightShe has a soul the colour of midnight.The Colour Of Midnight5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Not the midnight you'd expect, not the midnight lit by a golden harvest moon; a midnight the colour of champagne bubbles, of laughter, of comfortable silence. Not a midnight the colour of her hair in the firelight, her soft warmth and the promise of her smile; the colour of sun bleached sepia where memories are tinged by nostalgia, and you can almost see the morning approaching.
Not the black of a hopeless midnight, where you can't see the light. That's the colour of the night where the fog presses in on you, there's claustrophobia in the air and the bitter taste of fear and you feel all alone in the dark. That's the colour of the wild night sea, where you are a piece of flotsam floating on an invisible current, being dragged along to the shadows by the relentless tugging tide.
Not the cheap coloured midnight, with orange glowing streetlight, with cigarette smoke curling round make-believe faces. The colour of strong booze that clings to the breat
shooting stars and shooting upsometimes i wonder if we wore our insecurities around our necksshooting stars and shooting up6 years ago in Other More Like This
would people pick so much?
and if all our phobias could be read in our eyes
would we still be so scared?
the sun's on steroids today.
or maybe it's just bullying the moon.
i wonder if there's a pill for an addictive personality.
i would try one.
if you are fourteen, you are not in love.
you are in lust.
there's a significant difference, but
no one can tell anymore.
i know there aren't any monsters under my bed,
or in my closet,
i know where monsters really are.
there are monsters walking down the hallways of your school,
strolling down the sidewalk,
pushing through the crowds at your favorite show.
there are monsters with you beneath the sheets,
wiping your hair from your eyes and smiling at you.
monsters make the best liars.
Loving You For EternityKnow this, when we met, I made a decision, to take my heart and give it to you.Loving You For Eternity7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Know this, when we're so far along together, I continue to make a decision,
To give my heart to you for eternity.
Its yours now, do what you will with it.
Hold it like glass, loving it, protecting it.
Or break it into pieces, drop it upon the ground and turn away.
Anything you desire with it, as it is yours.
Know this, from when we met, to now, to the end of all ends,
My heart is yours, and I love you.
Then, now, and for eternity.
confession of an anorexicWiry long black hairconfession of an anorexic11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Skin, a hideous yellow
Bluish purple wicked veins
Sunk in eyes
I was so beautiful
To God aloneHere lies…To God alone9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And a God send
Somebody young at heart
That he would die on his own
To God alone.
SeizedI was there the first time that my brotherSeized2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the first time that his brain revolted.
The sound of breaking
is a gasping, rattling
the heave of panicking lungs,
and the shuddering convulsive
of limbs against a car seat-
something seat belts,
and my own hands
are powerless against.
There was a MomentThey do not stretch towards the sky,There was a Moment8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Have not grandeur to recommend them,
But modesty does dignify
And describe those markers for them.
While some are named, and others bare,
Through rows of crosses stretching on,
Anonymity does not impair
The sacrifice beneath each one.
There was a Cost.
The battlefields still flowing red
Not held in bootsteps in the mud,
Crimson poppies unfurl instead:
Colour of remembrance, passion, blood.
In that grave which held youths toil,
The earth hid the terrible stain,
Flowers sprung forth the trembling soil,
With the lives it could neer contain.
There was a Rebirth.
The huddled masses look for dawn
With frosted breaths cresting their lips,
The haunting wail of a brass horn
Sings of unity and mateship.
And as they stood, some overwrought,
Praise, not shells, heard amid the throng,
And though they thought of those who fought,
They acknowledged all war is wrong.
There was a Moment.
There was a moment we said stop,
One.I remember...One.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when you were the best part of waking up.
the way you used to hop and dance
your pretty brown eyes looking at me with so much love
I couldn't help but love you back.
how you let me know what you wanted
and I would give it back with a smile on my face,
so euphoric to see you happy.
I told you that I loved you everyday
and you answered with that way you
watched everything I did
waiting for me to give you a hug and a kiss,
as you nuzzled my cheek.
that way of communicating
that we shared.
No words, only your puppy-dog brown eyes, and my grey-blue ones
shared glances, hours staring into one another's souls, and
we knew we could face the world.
But it did not last. It never does, not for me.
the night you left.
In my memory
it is so cold.
So feared and hated.
you convulsed on the floor.
Time and time again, it was rele