WinterIn the dark nightWinter6 years ago in Spoken Word More Like This
There are stars.
Single LadiesI want to spend a summer fortnight in the Everglades with LynnMarie.Single Ladies4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I want to sleep all day and stay up all night, learning just one dance.
I want to dance like Kurt Hummel in the Glee "Single Ladies" video.
I want to learn every hair flip, finger waggle, hip thrust, every move.
I want to keep this incredible talent a tiny secret in my heart of hearts.
I want to keep it for a day when I have a true heart great-granddaughter.
I want to see the gleam in her eye when I invite her to share my secret.
I want to dance, dance for her, until we both cry gasping tears of laughter.
Rise AboveEach of us, every day,Rise Above6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
A tiny, unassuming,
Almost insignificant GIFT
It is the ability to choose,
To affect all that we do,
But if it is ignored,
It becomes a gift we LOSE
All of us are born with,
Knowing how to rise above,
Something that to which ATTENTION,
Is not paid enough of
We fall so far,
And so fast,
And we BLAME other people,
For all of our gaffes
When given an opportunity,
We for some reason refuse to LEARN,
And for those of us that choose that,
Our souls ignite and BURN
Passion is our blessing,
And also our curse it seems,
So many don't understand that passion,
Or exactly what it means
When we CHOOSE to rise,
We can truly do anything,
Too many choose to fall,
And to continue to scream
Those that fall are bitter,
They cannot accept CHANGE,
Their only goal in life,
Is to cause others to feel the same
We can rise above everything,
If we will only take the TIME,
Because only we can choose,
The future PATH for our lives
It is no-one's fault but our own,
If we continue
You Me and an Ass Makes ThreeYou Me and an Ass Makes Three4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The O'Brian Star sat fixed in space between two possible orbits. On maneuvering thrust, we could roll into a pattern over Telavor, shuttle down for some much needed rest while the ship was refitted and resupplied and plot our next supra-light slip. Alternately, we could drop through the nearly non-existant atmosphere of Tel N'akvar, punch a hole into the local mining outpost and load up with enough rare ore to be building a new ship at the other end of the galaxy before the N'akvarans knew what hit them.
It all seemed pretty simply to me as I sat in the upper gunner's turret, admiring the view, the two planets nearly perfectly aligned with their sun; Telavor casting its massive shadow over the smaller Tel N'akvar.
It was from this vantage point that I had been watching them argue through the window, the Captain and his first mate. They were alone on the bridge, the viewports unshielded and thus unusually transparent from this angle with the lack of outside light. The Captain seemed exa
The Final testThe sun was setting outside, leaving a multitude of fiery colours in its wake. A few stray rays stole through the open window whenever the fluttering curtains left a gap - light and shadow dancing over his features in a complicated pattern, illuminating a sort of rough beauty in him that was so perfect in its entirety, so pure and obvious in that one moment that I could not understand how I had missed it before. This wasn't the first time I had watched him fall asleep in the dying light of the sun but it was the first time the picture had struck me as so painfully beautiful, and I began to wonder if I was falling in love with him.The Final test7 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
I shook myself in a vain attempt to dispel the thought. Falling prey to those kind of emotions at a time like this would be akin to signing my own death warrant; we had work to do. I turned my back on the scene, oddly comforted by taking my eyes away although the picture still hung behind them, a beautiful backdrop to my disturbed dreams.
By the time I awoke
Proper Grown-UpsTime is staying still,Proper Grown-Ups3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And it always will,
So it seems to you, my friend.
Lifetimes in your mind
Are the greatest kind.
Never let your wide world end.
Ev’ry feeling, ev’ry day,
Life runs ever on,
And when something’s gone,
It steals part of you away.
Some of it will slip
From your desp’rate grip,
All your world, your invention,
Who you really are.
Do not fling it far,
And don’t embrace pretension.
Wine spritzer with lime.
Heartlandtonight I will fallHeartland5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
asleep in the vineyard while
my hair is still damp
from kissing you in
The Rhine: 'I want to
swim down the center of it
and not know if the
water I'm drinking is französisch
I don't write about
you to stop from glorifying you.
the way you laugh
when my hands start shaking.
I tell you how fond I am of empires.
I want you to baptize
me king in the red and white
wines of the coronation fountain.
we don't have a language.
we are a language.
'knight' is a synonym
for 'always drowning'
and when I come to
bed I breathe in wheat
instead of grapes from you.
tonight I will fall
asleep in the vineyard while
my hair is still damp
from kissing you in
to the gentle thrum of
the sparrows under my
illuminate my heartSeptember falls outside his window and the two-story house feels June. Time tilts here, the days canted to the left like the apple tree their grandchildren planted sometime last winter. It hasn't grown much since then, a few leaves on dry branches but no blooming flowers when spring arrived.illuminate my heart5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Today his fifty years seem like thirty. Sitting up in bed is easier. He doesn't feel as weak as before. The Pacific breeze touches his hair, chills his pale face and he thinks, Maybe Anna and I could drive down to the beachfront today.
He rolls to his side. She's burrowed under the covers, a blue blanketed lump, white hair poking out over dark blue pillows.
John reaches his hand out and presses down.
The lump rolls over. The lump doesn't breathe.
The lump deflates like a balloon.
The lump is blankets and no flesh.
"Mmm, good morning," Anna murmurs in his ear.
Cold lips kiss his cold cheek. John frowns.
There's nothing there--
Anna squeezes his hand, drags him out of bed. "Breakfast?"
Lindor's Luminaries 2Wystan left a gold coin on the table and strode outside. I followed him, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the afternoon sun. Wystan went directly to his horse, leaving one of his guards, a tall man with a short blond beard, to help me mount up this time. At least, I reflected as I nodded my thanks to him, whatever magic had gotten me here had given me a well-mannered horse. I nudged the bays flanks and it stepped forward, content to follow Wystans beautiful chestnut.Lindor's Luminaries 27 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Wystan was apparently ignoring me for the moment, and I was content to let him. I needed time to think over everything I had learned, and guessed that he did too. Slightly bored, I let my mind wander freely, and it eventually settled on the fact that my horse did not have a name, or at least a name that I knew of. I patted its neck with one hand and murmured, What shall we call you?
The horse flicked one ear, which I took to
Fahrenheit 451Men on fireFahrenheit 4514 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
with dragon tongue
shooting hot and thick
And They turn to blue and black
Which shudder and flutter
And die with ease
Ant a temperature of 451 degrees
They toil not
Nor do they spin
These ignorant armies
Of flaming men
They clash by night
And in the glowing light
Of one million years
Of one million words
One million tears
That float off like birds.
What smells like cinnamon turns to smoke
And guttural children suppress a choke
Their minds are empty, but their mouths are full
But no one listens to empty eyed fools.
But one man alone asked why
and soon this mystery unfurled
Why the pen and paper turned to shy
He grasped the naked shingles of the world.
He picked up and read aloud
One immortal poem from the wisest bard
To a dead and heinous crowd
And consequence came down hard.
It all began with the girl who tasted rain
And ended with the city ablaze
Loss of home wife and friend brought pain
As his thoughts cleared the haze.
He became the b
BeaumainsSince the AI Liberation Movement, almost all forms of artificial sentience had been given the option of self-definition. This met with cries of "foul!" in a few divisions of the United Confederation of Worlds' military branches. One of the most lenient branches was the CASEDConfederate Administration for Space Exploration and Defense. These men, women, and others among the service welcomed their AIs as partners and neighbors. Most of the ships chose Fabricated Interaction Units that were ideal for working with their crews. The androids usually had pleasant, well-sculpted faces with superior physiques and were almost universally beautiful; this is not to say, however, that many warships avoided choices that were decidedly more warlike or domineering than was really necessary.Beaumains5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The CASEDS Gareth (known unofficially as the Beaumains, and with several instances of discreet graffiti courtesy of the crew dubbing her the Cute Bruiser) was due for the installment
Gravedigger - OneGravedigger - One8 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
And after the storm
The body of Rafell the Magistrate lay in state beside the hole he was soon to inhabit. The family, of which there were few, and the friends, of which there were even fewer, had already deserted the graveside. They left Graves and his apprentice to nail down the lid and lower the Magistrate into the earth.
Rain was falling. Graves glanced up at the drab, weeping sky. 'Rain's puddling. Good wood that. Going to spoil fast, mind.'
His apprentice gravedigger nodded simply to acknowledge that he had heard.
Graves shook his head, looking left, down the slight incline of the hill towards the great iron cemetery gates, through which Magistrate Rafell's nearest and dearest had hurriedly left, encouraged by the first heavy drops of rain.
'T'aint right, Perin, my boy. Family should wait 'til the departed is proper interred. T'aint right for them to leave like that.'
Perin said nothing. He was not a dramatically intelligent boy but he knew enough. He knew enough abou
The Critic's Toolkit: LitThe Critic's Toolkit: Literature EditionThe Critic's Toolkit: Lit5 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Critique, the examination or analysis of a work of art (in our case, a written work of course), can be an enjoyable, educational experience for both the critic and the author. If that sounds like something a teacher would say to you about a subject that makes you alternately fall asleep or want to throw up, don't despair, because it can actually be a great experience. You just need some tools to help you.
The main component to many critiques of beginner's work tends to be technical. This can be as basic as misspellings and punctuation errors, which can be an easy thing for you to put in your critique in order to give it more substance, but the technical aspect can also take on a wider scope. Technical critique can examine sentence structure in terms of general readability and how clearly an idea is portrayed, to even the metaphoric and the way imagery was used.
Blood Ties- Alternate MoralityThe Monastery was quiet, most of the paladins attending the evening services. There were no sounds in the nearly empty interrogation room, save the occasional whimper or gasp emitted from the currently singular prisoner as she slept. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a rather unique sight- a draenei paladin, clad in the red and white of the Crusade. She was obviously quite healthy; her pure-white skin and hair practically glowed as she stepped silently into the darkened room, a vast contrast to the thin and anemically pale elf. She carried a tray laden with bandages and canteens of water- though attendants were forbidden to give the prisoner food, it was her job to provide medical attention, and that included keeping the elf hydrated. Vishas had decided that a blade would be his instrument of choice when the elf hadnt responded to unarmed blows, which meant she had to be quick- otherwise the captive would bleed to death before she could provide any useful information.Blood Ties- Alternate Morality8 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Iraqi Pilot Returns - StoryBy U.S. Air Force Staff Sgt. Christopher FrostIraqi Pilot Returns - Story8 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
KIRKUK, Iraq By age 15, his destiny was already set by Saddam Husseins regime he was to become a fighter pilot, a necessity in the bloody war with Iran. He took the controls of a Bravo, a single engine, propeller-driven training aircraft, and performed his first solo flight before most Americans could even drive.
Today, Iraqi Air Force Maj. Abbas, his name changed in this story for security reasons, serves once again in the Iraqi Air Force, but hes no longer asked to fly for the dictator but to fly for his country.
Abbas is an instructor pilot with the Iraqi Flying Training School in Kirkuk, Iraq, where he teaches initial pilot training to future Iraqi pilots. Like many instructor pilots who have returned to the school to teach, he was a fighter pilot under Husseins regime with a great deal of experience and training.
My education was only for flying, said Abbas, while he kept watch over a pitche
ActingDoctor Andreessen ran his hands through his hair and pushed back from his desk. Amid the chaotic disarray of acting and animation books in front of him, the keyboard he'd been hammering away at for hours stood finally at rest. The panorama of monitors rising up from the literature displayed a scrolling expanse of code as the computer compiled, linked, and built before downloading to the animatron sitting immobile on the edge of a worktable to his left.Acting2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Impatient, the Doctor picked up a volume on method acting, flipping again from cover to cover. Inside were meticulous instructions on how an actor could portray every emotion with body language. His was the second signature on the sign-out card, the first dated in the late eighteen hundreds.
"Compilation complete," the computer intoned from a speaker buried inside an articulating desk lamp, the fixture turning its shade to point at the Doctor while its light pulsed gently in sync with the force of each syllable. The lamp, a nod to an ear
consequenceto hold your eyes openconsequence5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
or to keep them shut
you tried it all and everything
and if you look
you cannot bare the pain
but once you look away
it all slips out and falls apart
it's not just mere 'to be' anymore
but to know just who you are
and how much they can take
before you'll fade away
to keep your mind open
or to lock it up
not knowing what the night may bring
try hard to make it through
to eventually fail
or just to give it up for once
and risk to never feel the same
no punishment, no reward
Ikarka.Jestem Ikarem w żeńskim wydaniu,Ikarka.4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Niepomnym żadnych ostrzeżeń.
Lecz me szaleństwo nie tkwi w lataniu,
Ramion nie kryję pod pierzem.
Tęsknię do ciepła, uczuć przestworzy,
Tak chciałabym w nich szybować!
Pragnę zbyt wiele? Tak Bóg mnie stworzył.
Chciałabym skrzydła zachować.
Lecz gdy się zbliżę do słońca twarzy,
Skrzydła me stają w płomieniach.
Tarcza słoneczna miast ogrzać- parzy,
Szczęście w przekleństwo się zmienia.
Tonę w odmętach własnej rozpaczy.
Bez skrzydeł, z dala od słońca.
Jestem feniksem. Wiem, co to znaczy
Odradzać się ciągle, bez końca.
Who gives this woman?No one can,Who gives this woman?4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for she was free and wild
before she left my womb,
Said her mama.
No one can,
for she was free and wild
before she let go my hand,
Said her daddy.
No one can
bind the wind that is her breath
trap the water that is her blood
cage the earth that is her bones
capture the fire that is her heart
Said her granny.
No one may give what is not owned.
midnight, minus threewinter comes to beijing like an old coat,midnight, minus three5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
or perhaps a threadbare tide;
not a hurried cold--no, not yet so old
as an angry man--but careful, slow,
and weaving herself from wind after wind,
snow after snow--
like a shroud for a warm corpse
laying itself out on the street
at last to rest,
then, tugging like a baby at her own sleeve
she sees to them, the hot potato women,
the quiet men crying corn,
to the dusty coats and supplications,
and the sparrows blown like buttons
in a storm.
Barbaric TreatmentLate summer, 2261 AURCBarbaric Treatment7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The noontide sun gleamed off Hrothgar the Northmans rippling thews, and his shaggy mane of golden hair shone. The cheap tunic he wore could not conceal the hard, rangy lines of his frame as he stood astride the path through the narrow pass he had made his own.
Voices reached his ears; ears that, although attuned to the clash and clangor of battle, had never been deafened by the clatter and bustle of what men called civilization and so remained alert to the slightest threat: the padded footfall of the wolf, or the quiet hiss of a blade drawn from its sheath. But these were careless voices, chattering and laughing, heedless of the peril that loomed before them in the barbarians mighty person. His grip tightened upon the hilts of the sword which he held before him, its point resting upon the stony earth; and his nostrils flared in fierce anticipation.
Up the slope before him they came: Two youths walking side by side. The one was tall and well-bui
On The Division Of The SunAt some point, there is a moment where you have to step back from everything and lock your mind onto the first thing that crosses it. Me, I thought I heard the wind smiling. So I listened to it, and thought, this isn't so bad.On The Division Of The Sun5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Until the weight of Splittime cracked it open, and I was back reeling in the
steel forest, holding a wrist made of sharp bones. Hak's bones were so thin that I could feel their shapes in my fingers. I could see his skin dragging like loose blinds.
"I go no further," he said, and his voice was like reeds jumping in the rain.
Close to Splittime, there is no visible change, but you can almost feel Lightset preparing to shut itself off. It always disorients me. I know, of course, why it's done, and I know our bodies can survive Darkhalf, and we won't even remember it until we wake up again, and I know the new world won't get any sunlight if it doesn't happen
but I still hate it.
"Don't be afraid," Hak said, when my eyes started to shutter for the