What is leftUnchain me, Help me breakWhat is left2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Free of all these chains amongst my life
These moments, i'm holding
Could take another step closer
When starlight of night skies
Fade away with broken dreams
What would I be left with
If all is left is uncertainty lurking in
With darkness carving within me
I'm running away from my paths
That I once shared, as I can't seem to escape
Where would I be, where am I now
For my smile could mask false sanity
For what is left of hope
When all of what you build crumbles below you
I can only ask my self............ what is left......
The lull of a bird's songThere is no timeThe lull of a bird's song2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
There is no way
To find, to bring, to carry on
I wander on
I wonder if
A life, A bird, that flew away
It flaps it's wings
It sets for skies
And looks, And dreams, of home again
Where the river flows
Where the wind blows
This bird, This truth, A true felt friend
Singing the sunset as the days passed
Here stands today
Here where I am
Let not, Let not, Time slips away
Along our path
Along this way
The song, the sound, the lull of day
So bright with skies
So light, it flies
My friend, my smile, a part of me
She brought smiles
She brought a breath
Such heart, such song, a graceful peace
Dreaming of rain, to grow seeds in light
We flew, We stood, among a branch
Shadows cast high
Shadows soothe skin
From somber, from somber, she gave me hope
A journey, a flight, as time does part
I cannot bear
I cannot speak
As time, as paths, they will soon part
What could I hold
What was foretold
Why me, why now, while the bird sings?
Windfall - Part 4Before any of the chastised mares could respond, the Apple family matriarch looked up toward Sweet Apple Acres' front gate with a grin spreading across her wrinkled face as a cheery voice sounded over the muddy courtyard . "Another Apple about to drop on our heads, eh Granny?"Windfall - Part 43 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
All eyes turned to see a stout mare draped in a heavy canvas cloak and broad brimmed hat pick her way across the churned up mud of the courtyard, bulging saddle bags hanging from her sides. When she stepped into the light she revealed a broad, olive green face with a bluff, open smile.
Granny Smith held up a hoof in welcome. "Just the gal I was a-waitin' fer. Howdy, Cabbage Leaf. Y'got my note, I reckon."
The sturdy mare nodded. "That I did, Granny. Sorry if the weather slowed me up a little gettin' here."
Nurse Redheart blinked in recognition and stammered. "C-cabbage Leaf, the... the midwife?"
The new arrival nodded again. "Right a roonie."
She squinted her eyes and peered at the flustered nurse from under the
Windfall - Part 6Spike the dragon lounged in a nearly pony sized basket next to Twilight Sparkle's desk in the office shared by several of Canterlot U's junior faculty and student teachers, seemingly flipping lazily through an advanced and esoteric tome of magical theory.Windfall - Part 63 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
In truth, he was perusing the four color panels of the latest issue of Thunderpony tucked neatly into the pages of the larger book. He'd picked up a lot in his years as the lavender unicorn's assistant, and knew how to choose books to get the best startled double takes from any students or faculty who happened to pass by.
His stomach rumbled a bit, and he glanced at the somnolently ticking grandfather clock that stood by the door, noticing that Princess Celestia's beaming portrait on the dial had been replaced by Princess Luna's shyly smiling visage.
As the comic book he read wrapped up on a cliffhanger, he began to mutter petulantly under his breath. "Is this it for our hero? Will Thunderdragon ever... eat... again... Will the nefari
Windfall - Part 8A pair of pegasi lounged on a terrace outside the VIP suite at Madison Mare Gardens, looking down at the busy street in front of the stadium's main gates. Down below, a cyan pegasus mare with a multicolored mane and tail stood with folded wings amongst a throng of colts and fillies, looking for all the world like a swan swimming in a lake of swirling manes, tails, stubby horns, and small fluttering wings. She was dressed in a sweat stained, form fitting blue and yellow bodysuit with jagged lightning motifs, the signature uniform of the celebrated Wonderbolts Stunt Flying team.Windfall - Part 83 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Shootin' Star popped a grape from a nearby fruit tray into his mouth and cast a scathing glance at the spectacle below. "Just lookit' that show boatin' glory hog down thar." He muttered, his Appleloosan drawl more pronounced than usual. "She just cain't git enough, can she?"
The lean, blaze yellow mare reclining on a deck chair next to him shook her head, ruffling her fiery orange mane, and chuckled, fixing the y
,the thing they forgot to mention,9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
about being a writer
is that we all live the longest
and die the fastest.
we feast on metaphors
with numb fingers and hearts
until we crawl under a half moon to sleep
and just don't wake up,
because everything we are
is arranged in our work
and we start to become
everything we've written about,
slowly but surely.
and now i'm not so sure
if i want to be a poet.
i just know
that i want to be a writer.
all we ever wanted was the world.it still feels like summer.all we ever wanted was the world.10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
tastes like late nights and cigarettes,
sliding through the back door,
still damp with the could-have-beens,
our past lovers
tugging at our lips.
we sit in downpour
and watch the trains roll past,
spilling from our mouths
while we talk about
how we could get on one of those trains
and just get off
at the last stop.
"and we'd never come home."
Something You Couldn't StopSometimes when it's very dark, sometimes when the air becomes infected with deadly silence, sometimes when all I can feel is coldness and pain and sometimes when life seems to solidify into uncaring concrete, I hear your voice. Just yours, whispering into my ear.Something You Couldn't Stop3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
And you only ever say two words.
This murmur in my ear allows some light to filter in through the darkness, it shatters the silence, melts the ice, soothes away bitter pain and brings softness back into my world. Only these words are never true, they sound in my head but never in my ears. Because you aren't here anymore to speak to me. I lost you a long time ago.
Once I was crossing the road and a car came towards me. I stopped and stared at the machine, I stopped and allowed the tinny scent of pollution to fill my nostrils. It wasn't that I wanted to die, it was just I lacked the motivation to live. However in the next momen
Detailed Character SheetDetailed Character Sheet5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
* = Relative to a certain universe
Reason or meaning of name:
Date of Birth:
For how long?:
Like his/her job?:
Siblings (describe relationship):
Spouse (describe relationship):
Children (describe relationship):
Are all children with the same partner?:
Is relationship with children important to character?:
Parents (describe relationship):
Grandparents (describe relationship):
Grandchildren (describe relationship):
Significant Others (describe relationship):
Children of siblings:
What is your character's family life like:
Is character divorced?:
If divorced, how many times?:
Has character ever cheated on significant other?:
for Erkyou must have heard by nowfor Erk4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
that diamonds are only made
beneath a million pounds of
you must have heard by now
that pearls are only made
as a form of self-defense;
but darling, have you heard
someone tell you to your face
that you are brilliant,
beautiful in your own skin, in
every freckle, every frown,
in every graceful good morning
and every war waged and weathered
in the marrow of your bones -
you are so much more
than the scars you wear
and the stories they will tell;
you are so much more
than the lines you will draw
in love and laughter
and landscapes made alive;
you are so much more
than the climb you have yet
to conquer -
you must have heard by now
that we are all of us newly made
every seven years;
you must have heard by now
that we are none of us prisoners
of our past, but products of it;
but if you have not heard by now
that every new day and every disaster
is another chance to write bad poetry
and another chance for someone to
Poem Written On the Eve of a Friend's Quiet DeathWe are a window into the past.Poem Written On the Eve of a Friend's Quiet Death10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
We, a window of hazy glass,
hazy nights in autumn
under fog and burnt-breasted
sycamore. We are a walk
through campus, one camera,
friend, the breadth
of each other's breath
and filtered warmth
coming off the creekbed. We
are the womb. We are the birth
of something greater than
a moment. We are a cool
kiss, a sip of simmered
vegetable stew. A Saturday
matinee. Infused chai tea.
We are everything memory
has left in its history. We are two
clipped blades of wheat, making
love in a grove of trees.
i keep my hair like i keep my blue jeans: shortthe beginningi keep my hair like i keep my blue jeans: short9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
she was all curls falling over shoulders and small hands and slender ankles, but she was also all crooked toes and cheek moles and half-baked smiles. she wore skinny jeans too long and too big on her and she always wore a jacket because she was always cold. and he thought that she was pretty beautiful the first time he saw her in a parade, sitting on top of a dodge truck and waving with both hands so that no one was left out. she was the kind of pretty beautiful that only came around when he said something stupid and she shook her head at him, trying to hide her teeth but failing miserably.
she wore glasses but only when she was doing work or when she had a headache because she thought that her eyes looked too wide in them and all she ever wanted in life was to be people magazine's definition of pretty—which she wasn't (but don't tell her that.) she drank tea on sleepless nights, sitting on her porch and stargazing; she thought that ma
the problem with romanticising architectureI built you a summer housethe problem with romanticising architecture6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
in my heart,
and I quite forgot
that winter comes sooner
than any of us would like;
we are children of
the sunshine, you and me -
and even knights are not built
to weather storms
from inside themselves;
four walls and a roof
make not a home,
but it is still shelter.
it is still shelter.
DawnFirst day: kneeling.Dawn6 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Homeless, newly blind.
bomb broker.there's a boybomb broker.6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
down the road;
and at night,
when the bombs
fall like snow,
i imagine him thinking
of anything but
the walls shaking.
the people across
hid a Jew, and
the boy down the road
(i don't know his
name, only that
his hair is the color
of candle wax, the moon, the
when they took the women
and shot her outside
of the church.
sometimes when i'm
in class, i
sneak glances at him
and wonder what
he thinks of
the war and the stench of
death (it's so
heavy in the air, now).
he salutes like
it's no trouble, but
i think he's just smart.
two years after
the war is
he kisses me while he
it's the first time
i've ever been
kissed, and i taste
blood on his lips and
in his words as he
splutters out his
"don't hide, Leslie. don't you ever hide."
it's not fate, it's just circumstanceI don't fool myself withit's not fate, it's just circumstance3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
romance, darling :
I have loved you for days upon days
and nights upon nights;
I have seen you with eyes blazing and
your wildfire words aimed all at me;
I have watched you walk away
and I have watched you run;
I have been brave enough to ask
if I was someone you could love,
and I have been brave enough to ask
if I was the only one -
I have fought you and I have fought for you,
and I have fallen prey to the way you kiss me,
to the way you say you miss me -
this was never romance, this was
morning breath and midnight poetry; this was
falling asleep in the middle of a phone call, this was
watching a tv show together when
you're miles and miles apart, this was
singing along to all the songs you love to hate,
the ones tattooed on your heart,
we're too old to know all the steps but
we still love to dance;
no, I don't fool myself with romance,
my hair is growing longthank god for x-acto knives andmy hair is growing long1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
marking pins and heroine
addicts and you.
thank god for good music.
and thanksgiving meals and
grandmas and spanish teachers that
actually care about you.
thank god for
quizbowl teams and gay sponsors and
that give you strength even while
thank god for sandwiches and mothers and
thank god for blue gatorade and
little girls’ dreams and
leather ballet shoes.
thank god for hair bows and tutus and
a stage made up of glass.
thank god for hamstrings and
thank god for dazy
and little lion manes.
thank god for big paws and
wasp stings and
thank god for sally.
thank god for self-destruction.
and thank god for signs.
thank god for twin sisters and
best friends and
conjoined hips and most of all:
thank god for support.
thank god for love and
care and tragedy
and train tracks lit up in the dark
Icarusbottled up at the bottom ofIcarus4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
is the wing-beaten
looking for a place to sleep,
far from the desolate
quiet of sky
and summer sun.
but he grew restless, this boy
lungs filled with saltwater
& quaking bones carved with feathers
detached of the pressure
between his fingers
and the slow but thunderous anger
waves roaring against the sky's belly,
his body rising to the storm
roiling and tumbling
until at last
the current tosses him upright,
palms against the heaven
and his back against
Temptation"Oh but mother!" I sighed shaking my head at her as she crossed her arms giving me a stern glare.Temptation3 years ago in Settings More Like This
"Don't defy me, Perisia! You know very well to never cross into that land! After what happened your older sister, I couldn't bear loosing you too!" She said unfolding her arms pulling me into warm sun kissed hug, I couldn't help but hug her back. I completely understood what she meant, my sister Persephone had wandered off and and was seduced by the god Hades. My mother, Demeter, was devastated but after a deal with my uncle, Zeus, he was able to free Persephone for six months. During those months my mother had lightened up and was happy. Then I came into the picture. Perisia. The daughter of the harvest goddess Demeter and Zeus and sister to the ill fated Persephone, queen of the underworld.
"I swear to you that I won't do anything irrational. Now may I please go now?" I asked wanting to go play out in the fields under the warm sun provide by my cousin Helios.
tidal (waves that taste of vanity)we are galaxies.tidal (waves that taste of vanity)10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
if i am the earth-
brown eyes, and scoliosis
in my bones-
then you are the moon.
you are bright and glorious and
you may have scars,
blemishes on your surface
from a lifetime of hurt,
but you are big and beautiful.
you are big and beautiful even though
you have a dark side, too.
we are milky-ways because we
shot for the moon but landed
among the stars.
i have oceans of
tears on my lashes because
we were probably never meant to be.
and we were not meant
to be in the way of
we were not meant to be in the way
that you played marius and
i played eponine and i would die a
thousand deaths to see you happy.
i have oceans of
tears on my lashes because
every time you get closer and
closer to me, my heart wavers and
tears rack my chest,
but i love it the sound of my
sobs kissing the shoreline of my cheeks.
you don't know how beautiful
the sounds of my screams are,
i am a black hole, a
On failuresometimes we stumble,On failure4 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and the scars run deep.
mistakes are only mis-takes,
and we may try again
and again, and again,
and we may wear ourselves weary,
and we may wait out no wars,
and we may wave no white flags,
but we may weep.
The Boy Who Couldn't SwimHe had harbor beam bones that splintered like gaspsThe Boy Who Couldn't Swim5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Anchor-hung lungs that sank him down into the deep
Until minnows lacerated his fingertips
Until shark jaws kissed his jugular
Until sand corroded his veins
Until he drifted like a buoy
Wondering if he was the first person to ever walk over a sea of broken glass
Just for the pleasure of it
i was doing so well at this happy thing.from age fivei was doing so well at this happy thing.8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
it was the constant
voices (at home
and in my head)
telling me that i was
and then for 3 years
i was nothing.
i was the child
that dyed her hair and
told her dad that
she didn't want to get married
because it was all
for 3 years,
i was the girl who
wrote stories and folded them up in
to hang above my bed.
at 16 years old,
my dad tells me
that i'm too
i don't eat enough.
and i know that it's not
true. i eat
what my body needs.
and i had finally gotten
to the spot where
i felt comfortable.
no-- fuck, i felt good.
when i look in the mirror
all i see is my dad
telling me that i am a mess
(even though he never said
and that when he was my age,
he didn't have anxiety attacks
and my brother
may be a fuck up but
at least he's
mentally capable (sort of).
no matter what,
will always be better
and so will my
Let Me See You...The last thing John had expected to see when he entered the warehouse was nothing. He hobbled further inside and stood his ground, hands folded over the cane.Let Me See You...9 months ago in Romance More Like This
“Cut the crap Mycroft! You dragged me out here for a reason. Make your demands so I can ignore them and go back.” There was a shuffling noise nearby and John turned, confused. Mycroft would never shuffle.
“J-john.” Despite the coarse voice, clearly dehydrated and in pain, John would recognize the timbre anywhere. Sherlock was still half hidden in shadow, clutching his left arm tightly. A closer look revealed it was dislocated. Sherlock had a scar just on the edge of the right side of his jaw now, almost invisible unless you were as short as John was. Sherlock’s coat was gone and his shirt had so many bloody tears in it you couldn’t tell it had once been white. Sherlock’s leg was bleeding too and he had a very serious limp. His fingertips were smooth, like someone had attempted to remove h